So there I am, on my way home on the tube from my second job today. I’m reading The Dirty Secrets Club, totally enthralled with it, and start crying (very emotional part). Well, nearly. I caught myself just before the tears flowed over. I hate it when I’m in public when I’m reading a book that has an effect. I’m complaining, but that’s what I love about reading. When you get so into a book the where, when, who you are, are irrelevant. This is why I want to write. This is the effect I want people to feel when the read my writing.
I’m really glad I’m reading this. The last few books I’ve started having drawn me in all that much. The last I only got through my sheer determination. It does help that I’ve lots of free time.
I’m home alone tonight. I’m thinking about chilling in a bath and reading my book. If I can drag myself away from NCIS. Ooh, I might do a face mask – proper girly night in. I’m not going to do any writing tonight – but gonna have a reasonably early night then get up in the morning and do some then. I’ll probably work on the writing course a little more; I did quite a bit yesterday too. At some point I need to back up everything on my laptop, you know, just in case it decides to die one day soon *sigh*.