For my 8th day of writing, I wasn't sure what to write about. I don't want to rehash the things about today that made it less than a good day. I am sore because I began a new exercise program that is not only working me hard, but is frustrating and sometimes difficult as all new exercise programs are for someone as uncoordinated as I tend to be--so that is not a great topic either.
So, a positive topic: reading. I love reading. I love reading fiction because I can, for a while, get lost in a world or a place different from my own. In a way it's escapist, but more often than not it's just an enjoyable pastime. I enjoy nonfiction because I love voices--written voices. I am not as fond of instructional nonfiction as I am personal narrative, particularly creative essays. I took a look at my bookshelves a few minutes ago while looking for inspiration for today's blog entry--and while I do have quite a few reference books for teaching and for the girls' schooling, I also have a lot of writing books and anthologies of personal narratives.
All my books make me happy.
I guess it stems from the "extrovert" part of me--I enjoy listening to people and their stories. They fascinate me. But reading those stories feeds the "introvert" part of me.