devouring reading books when I was 10.
Before that I read, but never at the rate that I do now. Over the 6+ years I’ve been swallowing books whole and have developed a state of mind wherein I always finish them. In fact, through all my time reading there have only been 2 books I haven’t finished.
I’ve always been an advocate for finishing novels, and have compiled a short list (I LOVE LISTS) as to why I do this:
My mother taught me that it’s rude to interrupt
Not finishing is like being interrupted in the middle of a sentence. I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one that despises when that happens to me so I can’t help but ask myself why I would do that to someone (an author), who is telling me a story.
Authors pour their hearts and souls into their work
Since becoming a ‘serious’ writer reading isn’t just about a plot and characters anymore. It’s more than that; it’s about passion, diction, world building and the way authors manage to turn 26 letters into incredible novels. And because I understand the hard work they put in, I can’t not finish what they started. It’d be like eating half a slice of cake I mean, WHO DOES THAT?
I feel bad
I feel bad, guilty even, when I don’t finish a book; the mere thought makes me squirm. I almost feel like the author will rush at me with sharpened knives and pitch forks, demanding that I finish their novel.
The story isn’t complete until the very last page
Often, when I get books for review, I feel obligated to see the story until the end to ensure it’s got a fair shot at impressing me. don’t know much about the book before I get it. So, when I find myself not enjoying it I continue reading anyway because I have to review it and feel obligated to give the book a rightful chance to make me fall in love with it.