From Now On I will Honor Each Book

Last updated on November 1, 2025

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I was an ungrateful reader at times, a moody one as well. I opened each book with the highest expectation and closed many not even halfway in. I had this rule, made up by me, to save myself from wasting time, like I would never waste time doing silly things—ever.

I was an arrogant reader. I expected to be entertained and found myself often bored or helplessly out of my element. While I like to think of myself as being open-minded, when it came to reading, I was not. “If you don’t entertain me, or make sense by page 50, off to the donation pile you go, where you will rest with others until I, the cruel reader, will find the time to release you into the arms of new readers, who, for your sake, might give you the shelflife you long for.” I opened new (and old) books with this rule in mind.

I love books—good books—the good, is of course defined by me, for my use only.

Words on paper, written by someone I don’t know. It’s not like a film, where you can see other people’s imagination on a screen. No, when you read, you are left with your own. Our minds translate the words we read into pictures only we can see. Words take us to places we have never visited before, sometimes didn’t even know existed. Traveling by words, through chapters of places and circumstances, with people we never heard of, and so often we fall in love, and we fall hard and forever.

That’s the ultimate goal of a book: to be loved and cherished. To be remembered. To be kept, like a treasure.

I have spent the last thirty days working with Ann, my editor and now friend. I thought editing meant she would do the edits, but now, she has made suggestions and forced me to read and reread my own stuff over and over again. Every Day. Oh, the cruelty, it was so needed.

“Do you know you have 127 ‘yets’ and about 100 ‘abouts’ in your book,” to name just a few. No, I do not, and I didn’t know I cared.

“Bridget, something is missing here. You need to fix this.” Ok, how do I fix something I didn’t know was broken?

The editing work I will never forget. It has mellowed me as a reader.

I will never close a book prematurely again, just because I can’t feel it, or it might fly a bit over my head. The time, the effort, and the love most of the authors put into their work is something I never thought about. I picture they all had given talent (and many do). They just sit down and start typing, and voila, nine months later (give or take), a book is born. And soon it will walk and talk its way from store to store, to be loved forever. The fulfilled and happy life of a book.

“You have to walk a mile in someone’s shoes,” the old saying came to my mind often. I was walking, and there were pebbles in my writing shoes.

No, I will never underestimate the work of writers and authors, the love storytellers put into their manuscripts and screenplays.

I will respect each and every book from now on, and the old rule will only be used for conspiracies and untruth. And I will start writing on my blog again.

Turns out I have a lot to learn. I also have a lot to share, which is good I suppose. The never-resting mind, a curse or a gift?