Time flies, as always. It’s been more than a year since the pandemic started and while people think that being on lockdown means that they can finally read more books, I find myself becoming less and less productive instead―very particularly this year. 2021 has seen me spend half of it working (and reworking, for several times) my translation in a desperate attempt to get some money―because, like everybody else, I lost my “steady” job―and the rest of it fangirling non-stop.
It’s already the end of September and I’ve only managed to finish ten books, including manhuas. I’ve always tried to open and read one book, but could never finish it and eventually jumped to another one. That’s what I’ve been doing these past few months, and it’s horrible. I even lowered my Reading Challenge goal on Goodreads from 20 to 12 books this year. I did still write some reviews here, but not that many, and not that good, either. I tried to send my reviews to competitions and online media but to no avail. Well, you know it when your writing was so bad that any judges or editors didn’t even have to tell you.
This reading slump is killing me, and the toxic book community on Twitter doesn’t help, either. What’s worse, I’ve been losing my interest in reading just exactly when I could fulfill my book wish list at lower prices and even for free. This is so embarrassing and disheartening. And now, when I finally get a little bit enthusiastic again about reading, I find myself having to do another translation to offer to publishers. Really no time to read now.
I don’t know if or when I can get back to my bookish life. I want to read as many books as I used to, I want write as many book reviews/articles as I used to, I want to focus my eyes and my mind on pages in front of me and not on Twitter or Weibo timeline. I really don’t know if I can go back to that phase again. But I wish to, I really do.