Maybe We're Back

2025 has been a catastrophic failure for my literary career. I'm nearly 1,000 pages behind, my to-read stack is judging me, and I think one of my books tried to escape under the couch.

Something — I don't know what, maybe guilt, maybe divine intervention — has inspired me to recommit. I still refuse to read any Shakespearean dumpster fire, yet here I am reading A Lady’s Guide to Marvels and Misadventure… a "gift" from my aunt, complete with a note that read: “For the inner pubescent girl in you." Embarrassingly accurate.

I’m also juggling a few other books (more on that later), but for now — wish me luck and Godspeed. I’m going in.