You know what sucks about spending a whole week reading great novels. It makes everything you’ve written seem like child’s play.
I wish I could tell you I spent my vacation fervently revising my own story – But I didn’t. I confess, I was lazy and made the hammock my personal home for the past seven days. (All except one when the thunder and lightning forced to cower inside with Shadow Kiss by Richelle Mead.)
Book after book, I was enthralled by the characters and plots the authors threw at me. One day I was battling the Strogoi with Rose. The next I was mourning the loss of Rhode in Infinite Days (by Rebecca Maizel).
I read five books in seven days. If that isn’t a vacation – I don’t know what is.