I have accomplished nothing today. For I have spent the entire day racing through Catching Fire. And if there’s one thing I hate, it’s series with cliffhangers that the author hasn’t finished writing yet. That’s the annoying thing about discovering great authors while their masterpieces are in the process of being made- you have to sit out the bloody wait. And you don’t want to rush them along because you know, in the rational part of your mind, that if you do the book won’t be as good as it could be (cough- Meghan Whalen Turner). But the dead ones are even worse if they had the misfortune to die in the middle of their assuredly brilliant career (Adams, anyone?). While I’ve survived this numerous times (Nix’s Abhorsen came out during midterms, guess which went on hold) it’s always annoying in the emotional book-junkie part of the brain.
Now, since I have frittered away the day frivolously devouring fiction like a box of Belgian chocolates, I will force myself to do something constructive in the eyes of the rest of the world.