Reading and Writing

When I was younger I would read anything I could get my hands on. Yep, I did read a lot of crap that way, but it caused me to pick stuff apart and figure out what made it crap (or not). What makes this one take me two weeks to read (and read three other better books at the same time) when this one over here I couldn't put down and stayed up all night to finish? Why do these characters live on in my head for a couple of weeks when these others never even took a deep breath? What is it about that scene that makes me remember it every time the wind blows whistly around that paint-flaking window pane in the basement? What gave this a sleek polished feeling while this one has rough-edges? Was that the intent? Does it add to or take away from the whole?
Anyway, you get the idea. And if you're a reader, you're probably nodding your head, maybe sucking in your bottom lip, and thinking about the first book you put down and never finished because it wasn't worth your time. I remember mine. I was working the night shift and, while that probably was partly to blame for my short attention span, for the first time ever I put a book down and didn't pick it back up.
I had no interest in reading another schlocky novel that didn't have something to say or, at the least, some entertainment value. I don't remember the book or the author, but what I do remember is getting to Chapter 2 and I'd just walked down a street with too many adjectives and walked with a fancy-shmancily dressed lady with a flowery umbrella. I walked up the steps to her porch and into her house and nothing had happened and I just didn't give a shit about the lady or about where she lived or what she did or anything else.
Plus, I was wet because she didn't share her umbrella. Okay, not really, but I just didn't give a shit. I was sick of reading shit and I remember thinking that if I was going to learn what made a good book, then I'd better set the shit aside and seek out the good stuff.
This realization, plus the fact I had a tracheotomy to clean, a couple of stomach tubes to replace, an order to insert a urinary catheter, a serious case of sleep deprivation, morning meds and report to get through all combined to make me realize I didn't have time to waste - especially not on an uninteresting, crappy novel.
That was the beginning. I've become even more (nit)picky since then (hard to believe, huh?).

The point in all this?
I'm feeling rather bloggity today and I have some time this morning (time created through procrastination, mainly). So, if you've a mind to stick it out with me a bit, we'll see where this is going....

I need to add, too, that I have very little patience for formatting pictures into posts. Usually I just deal with it and do it anyway, but not today. Today I'll just make multiple posts. Patience may be required. :)