There are two facts about January that remain fairly consistent: 1). It is cold where I live and 2). I read voraciously but write very little during the month. It’s not a productive time of the year, as I’m still usually recovering from the post NaNo and holiday burnout. Thus January is my month to read other people’s work while silently cursing every fluffy white flake that falls from the sky.
This year, the weather held true to form with an extra dose of arctic chill just for good measure. I fell down on the task of reading, however, returning several library books unopened. I did begin rereading Hesse’s Siddhartha at the beginning of the month. It remains unfinished on the growing pile of books that I plan to read. Considering Siddhartha is less than 175 pages and that I am perfectly capable of devouring an entire George R. R. Martin novel over a quiet weekend, this failure to read is pretty substantial.
Where reading failed, writing flourished. A quick tally of non-fiction comes in at about 5100 words. The word count for fiction is uncertain, as most of this is still in hand-written form. However, I can venture an educated guess based on what I normally average per page that would put the count right around 25,000. Let’s compare this to January of last year. I believe I have that total fiction word count memorized, as it was a nice round number that starts with z and ends with o. Non-fiction came in at 1900 words give or take a half-dozen. So, that’s 31,000 versus 1900 words from last year. Suddenly I feel perfectly justified in my failure to read more than a few pages.
We’ll see if the trend holds for February, as that bloody vampire novel is still very much in its infancy. Sorry, Siddhartha, but enlightenment might just have to wait awhile.