I probably read too little for a Lit student; there are tons of great books out there I have still yet to read, like Lolita, To Kill a Mockingbird, Jane Eyre, heck I haven’t even finished reading Pride and Prejudice yet. I’m like the most un-lit Lit student you’ll ever meet, but I’m working to get there, to meet these great authors through their works. I’m now reading an Oscar Wilde book, like, finally. I heard his plays are good. I’ve read an excerpt of one of his plays, something about women, and it was hilarious.
I used to only read YA books. If you’ve read my Nerd Talks (book “reviews”), you’ll notice most of them (like 99%) are YA books, but now I’ve ventured out and am more open to different genres. I’m now currently more into literary genres, obviously an influence from reading too many of them, but generally, I choose the books I want to read according to what I feel like reading. The books I own now are a mix of different genres. There’s Jodi Picoult, James Dashner, Emily Bronte, Phillipa Gregory, Cassandra Clare, John Green etc., and I guess since I’m taking Creative Writing and have learnt a bit on analyzing works from different authors, I’ve accidentally become more alert on their writing styles. When I read stuff, I can now pick out overused phrases, or cliches, but I don’t know whether it bothers me or not, I just know I now notice them. Strange thing is, I can’t have the same alert mind when I’m reading my own writing.
When I get feedback on things that seemed off, I couldn’t see it. I couldn’t get what they said unless they explained it to me. When I read back my old stories written when I was in high school, I laughed and cringed so much that I couldn’t make myself finish reading it. It was that bad. What’s funny is that I remember when I was writing it that time I thought it was brilliant. Maybe that’s what happens when people fall in love. They can see no flaw in their partner until years later. It’s strange, isn’t it? We’re so mentally consumed and immersed in something that our senses could not even see the imperfections in front of us. It’s so strange we couldn’t even trust our senses sometimes, that includes our sense of judgment.
I honestly don’t know what I’m babbling on about.