When I start to read a book that I’d bought only seconds prior, there’s this sort of charged electricity of excitement that passes through me, and when I pick up the book, I cannot put it down. This has happened to me so many times. With Little Women, with Starship Troopers, with Hunger Games… Now, with The Paper Magician.
When I put the book down instead of diving right in, that magic is lost. I am not as interested and I don’t get as hooked onto it so quickly. I can forget about it for days.
New Book Syndrome. I like this, but so very infrequently am I able to really take advantage of it. I become enraptured with the style of the author, wordchoice, the characters in the book, the way it’s written, the new, interesting idea of it or the things I have yet to read. It’s like being in the middle of a library with so many options and choices to read and learn something new, and if ignored, it’ll die down and go unnoticed completely.
But now I’m indulging. I’m pushing through this book easily and I don’t want to stop.
I think about how I want readers to feel when they look at what I write. I want to engage that kind of reaction out of them, I want to be able to pull them in and not let go with my words and imagery, I want to create something so profound that that feeling is so overwhelming that there’s no way they can ignore it.
But some stories just click with you, and others don’t. And then what happens when the new-book-magic is fizzled out, in the morning after or later in the day? When it’s all gone, are you still just as excited about the book? More often what happens is that you start to see things in it that you didn’t before, you critique it, you wonder, you speculate and prod more than you learn and explore.
Whether it lasts or not, that “SHINY!” feeling is still one hell of a ride. One that I love and live for and don’t feel often enough. Time to fix that, methinks.
-The Novice Wordsmith