I can't totally recall how and when I lost my reading groove.

Seems like it happened gradually.

In my 20s, between the assigned reading in grad school and the dangers to my student loans of the lovely Pegasus Books near my apartment building, reading regularly (and reading fiction) fell by the wayside. Then came a ridiculously busy early career, followed not too long thereafter by parenthood and the accompanying sleep deprivation, none of which helped my reading life.

Then came that wave of short-attention-span-fostering social media and many notifications from various software and devices that began in the 'oughts. Later the 2016 election. And the rise of binge-watching.

It's not that I haven't been reading, it's that I haven't been reading consistently. Certainly not the way I did when I was a kid (I pretty much just devoured books). My adult reading life has been characterized by random, distracted, intermittent reading, mostly while on vacation.

Despite this, I've managed to keep up with Blake Crouch* and Matt Haig and other favorite authors.

(Coincidentally, I may have scared myself into believing I cursed us all by reading three pandemic books in late 2019 and early 2020 — Wanderers, the Oryx & Crake / Maddadam series, and A Beginning at the End — right before COVID kicked off. Either that or my intuition was operating in high gear with a prescient warning...)

Bottom line, I haven't been reading the way I want to be reading (and which I believe is important to do as a writer).

In any case, this summer I regrouped. Finally.

And it was sort of a strange recipe for getting there.

Here's what happened:

1. We were (mostly) unplugged for 22 days. My immediate family and I were in the High Sierra working on fixing sinking piers under our extended-family's cabin, built in the 1920s. Though we could drive down a pothole-riddled road to the one restaurant with WiFi, it was a bumpy, stressful trip, and thus not appealing. So, unplugged, mostly.
2. I needed for-real stress relief from the cabin work. (I wasn't the one under the cabin doing the work, but I was sort of our extended family's representative, project manager, chef, kid-minder, and pioneer-style laundress so I needed to chill the fuck out somehow. Plus we were living in a construction zone. So yeah, stressful.)
3. We've always read a lot at the cabin. The bliss of lying outside on the porch beds, reading books, is a built-in, default for me. So I was primed to read. Plus I had my dad's fully loaded kindle with me, and some print and library books that unintentionally made the journey with us, oops.
4. Once I started reading, I didn't stop. When I finished a book, I started the next one, quickly. I read the three print books (Lost & Found, A War of Gifts, and Staircase in the Woods) first, and nearly faltered, but opened the kindle and dove in.
5. I shifted into full-on binge-reading. Thanks to my dad, I had a massive collection of detective stories at my immediate disposal. That's when the true binge-reading commenced. I started with Michael Connelly's Bosch series (and haven't stopped). It turned out to be a hugely handy way to retrain my social-media-shortened attention span. (It also helped that my kids were reading oodles of books too.)
6. I'm determined not to let myself stop reading. Since we've been back from our trip, my pace has slowed from one book every two days to one book every four to seven days, but I'm happy with that. My intent is to always have a book I'm reading, and to know what the next book is going to be.
7. Turns out reading a massive series is not unlike binge-watching a long show with multiple seasons. So having the Bosch books to binge-read kind of fit my earlier binge-watching pattern, but is much better for my brain (other than all the murder stuff). I had another hiccup when I finished the main Bosch series and I had to wait for library copies of the Ballard/Bosch books to be available, but entertained myself with the fantastic Siege of Burning Grass in the meantime.

In any case, all this to say, I've gotten my reading groove back and I could not be happier.

I've read 32, going on 33 (::checks log:: no, make that) 35 books since June 6, when we left on our work trip (also, note to future self, a work trip is NOT a vacation). Considering that I think I read THREE books this year prior to that? Pretty epic. I know for sure I read All Systems Red, Upgrade, and The Life Impossible.

I want to stick with this pace and hope to have recorded double this number by the end of the year. While I didn't exactly mean to ensconce myself into the detective world, I'm also having fun reading "with" my dad, knowing he would have enjoyed sharing the experience with me (he passed away in 2018).

The best part of all this: my brain feels far less scattered and less hooked by social media and news.

It's a highly welcome and much-needed escape, in times like these. And, it's helped me stretch out my ability to focus on writing for longer stretches, which I dearly love.

If you're in a similarly distracted place, join me. Even if you can't unplug, binge-reading a long, addictive series is a terrific way to break the cycle and come home to your reader-self.

How's reading going for you right now? I'd love to read your thoughts in the comments. 👇

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If you're looking for support making writing happen day in and day out — including regular writing sprints — check out my Called to Write Community, now available at a new lower rate: https://calledtowrite.mn.co

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* All book links herein are affiliate links for Bookshop, which means I earn a small referral fee
if you purchase from them, and which helps me keep my writing ship afloat. Thank you!

Photo by Sarah Noltner on Unsplash

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