Perhaps it's an ego problem, then. I do recall a younger, cockier version of myself insisting that the more I allowed established authors to poison my mind, the more likely my chances of unintentionally copying someone and losing my individuality would become. Of course, I've learned the error of my ways thanks to my love/hate relationship with a few college courses.
Required reading be damned, after I graduated, I dedicated myself to rekindling my love of novels that inspired my love for storytelling from a young age. I purchased a short stack of books, posted a picture of them on instagram to hold myself accountable, and attempted to comprehend a book a week. For three weeks, this plan worked. I digested novels that weren't daunting. I set midweek goals. I returned to Instagram to update my progress. All was well.... until I attempted to defeat Infinite Jest.
Infinite Jest - if you don't know - is an 1,079 page book. [I read Chesapeake in high school; this should have been a breeze.] What it's about, I honestly couldn't tell you. My bouts with it started with me glossing over the back cover, weighing the paperback in my hands, and putting it back down. This lasted a month before I decided to move on to my next novel, but by that point, my engine had run out of steam. It might as well have been covered in rust and moss.
Around the same time, I found most reading tedious. Interesting articles online would become skimmed, at best. Comic books I purchased wouldn't be opened until my next trip to the comic book shop for fear of falling too far behind. Creative work friends passed along to me to look over wouldn't receive an opinion until months later. I've managed a few memoirs and collections of essays during the past two years, but those aside, stimulus has been slow for the right side of my brain.
If I could pinpoint the problem, I'd try to remedy it. For now, my best guesses are an undiagnosed cases of ADD, constant FOMO, and enjoyment-depriving depression - none of which I'm ready to admit to myself, probably just making matters worse.
Have no fear, there's hope yet. My friend and I have started a book club! ...however our first meeting has been postponed due to lack of readership, myself included. It's comforting to know I'm not the only one that struggles to turn pages but it's also harrowing. I'm hoping that we can come together soon to accomplish the main goal of this book club: to not let Levar Burton down. Watch the Reading Rainbow on Netflix!*
Until then, I'll make my own strides towards self-recovery. Is this what it feels like for Division I athletes to break a collarbone and try to push through it for love of the game? If so, my condolences to you all. We're finally in the same gang. Now, please excuse me as I struggle to proofread my own work.
Word
*Not a paid advertisement... yet.
**My book club is currently reading The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks. Possible book report to come upon our completion.
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