If you’ve been here for any length of time, you know that I’m a hardcore bookworm.
I mean, come on. Growing up, the worst punishment my mom could give me was to take away my books. Grounding didn’t work, because I’d just sit upstairs and read. But a month of no books? That was torture indeed.
Even so, I resisted the urge to get a Kindle for a long, long time. I was a champion of the Book. A lover of musty smells and food-stained pages. Nothing, I swore, could ever replace those perfect bound bundles of joy.
That was before my husband bought me a Kindle for my birthday. Because, Internet? Once hundreds of thousands (maybe millions?) of books could be mine with one teensy weensy click of my greedy fingers? It was on.
My dependence on the Kindle started slowly. At first, I limited myself to one book a week – two if one could be considered work-related in any shape or form.
And when that week’s book was done? I put the Kindle away until the following Sunday (of course, since my daughter was a high maintenance infant at the time, one book was often all I could read in a week).
But then I discovered a whole new category of blogs. Blogs that had the lowdown on the cheapest Kindle reads and the latest freebies. Plus, I got savvier about exploring the Kindle universe. I knew how to find up and coming or self-published authors – the ones most likely to be practically giving their books away.
That’s when I sold my soul to Kindle.
These days? I download three or four books a week – easy. And when one of my purchases proves to be lame and not really worth the time it takes to read it? I abandon it. After all, most of my finds cost less than my favorite raspberry latte from Starbucks. They’re…disposable.
Of course, the bibliophile in me is appalled at this behavior. She forces herself to read every last word in even the most horrible of books. After all, someone poured blood, sweat and tears into that piece of shit. Who is she to leave them unread?
A busy working, freelancing, blog-writing mom, that’s who.
Sorry, crappy writers.
Sorry, dusty, independent bookstores full of printed treasures chosen with love.
I love you, I do. I always will.
I just love my Kindle a little more.