I’ve been in one for weeks now. Weeks and weeks.
I blame Diana Gabaldon. Echo in the Bone, a book I was very much looking forward to reading for review, became a chore. A drag. A book that I dreaded to pick up (and at 10,000 pages, picking it up is not all that easy either) so much that I seem to have lost my joy in reading. It got sucked right out of me. (Blythe took pity on me and reviewed the book. For which I will be eternally grateful.)
Soulless helped. I was hopeful there for a while. But a few C reads later and I am back to my bad habit of playing Solitaire and Bookworm on my iPhone and watching Real Housewives of Atlanta. I do not like playing Solitaire and Bookworm on my iPhone and watching Real Housewives of Atlanta. Night after night. After night after night. (Okay, so I really do like Real Housewives of Atlanta. Not giving that up.)
My usual remedy of reading a beloved favorite doesn’t seem to have done the trick either. If my attention is wandering when I’m trying to revisit my beloved Phin and Sophie or Derek and Sara can’t perk me up, I’ve got problems.
So, with my win count on Solitaire reaching truly impressive levels not to mention that I’ve now formed the word “tone” about 7,000 times, I’m getting desperate.
What’s your cure for a reading slump? And, for extra credit, have you ever experienced one that wa-a-a-a-a-a-y overstayed its welcome?