My husband laughs at this quirk of mine: most nights, when he goes to bed, I bring in some books into the bathroom, shut the door, sit on the step stool by the sink and read. If the book is good, I finish it in one sitting. Last night, I flipped through six books and finally settled on “Jane Eyre,” which I read as a teenager. I find it too melodramatic for my taste now, but I can see why it is considered a classic. There’s lots of tension and Jane is sympathetic. The book was an eye-opener; I realized the mysterious man on horseback waylaid by the female protagonist has been done to death. Better avoid that set-up in my next novel.
Stephen King once said that to be a good writer, one must write four hours a day and read four hours a day. Reading books is…homework? That was why I became an English major in the first place. I love being a writer!!
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Okay, a stepstool in the bathroom just cannot be comfortable. Ever consider a booklight and reading in bed? :^>
No kidding. The point is that when I sit on the step stool, it’s not meant to be a long reading session, you know? But somehow I get sucked into reading a book clear to dawn…
Reading in bed actually gives me a backache.
I think the bathroom feels more intimate, more closed in; if an intruder happens to break into the house while I am reading, he’ll have to get past Drew first and I can get in one more page. Ha ha.
In my next life, my bathroom will be big enough so I can have a pink armchair and ottoman.