Over the past few months, I’ve noticed a certain shift in my likes. Okay, likes isn’t really the right word. It’s more the things I relate to – specifically, the books and articles I read. I’m finding myself very much in the middle of two massive shifts right now. 

The days of my youth are slowly fading into memories, yet the big leaps of adulthood (buying a house, getting married, children, etc.) are very much far off in the distance. It’s like I’m floating on a sea of confetti, and each piece I pick up is a completely different experience from the next. Does that make sense? Probably not, but hey, that’s where I’m hanging at the moment, what about you?

I’m finding it harder and harder to relate to Young Adult novels, which kills me because it has always been my favourite genre. There are some YA writers with phenomenal talents out there, and I still adore the way they loop and twist their words to create stories. But I’m struggling to really feel there. The storylines don’t necessarily reflect my life anymore. I’m not in year 12, I’m not kissing a boy for the first time, I’m not studying for finals or picking out university courses THANK GOD. 

So whilst I love the writing and genuinely look up to a lot of YA authors, I find myself searching for longer and longer to find a book that captures my interest via the cover and the blurb.

So why don’t I just check out the general fiction, you may ask. Well, I don’t know if anyone feels this way too, but it’s a bloody MINEFIELD. There are SO many authors, and titles and covers, and alphabetising has quickly become my arch nemesis. How can I possibly find a quirky, clever novel without spending 4 hours taking books on and off the shelves (okay, that wouldn’t actually be too bad, but a gal rarely has 4 hours of browsing up her sleeve)?

Browsing bookstores is one of my favourite past times. The smell of new books is one of my favourite smells in the world, if not my favourite, and it’s kind of become my happy place. How can anyone be pissed off in a bookstore, right? Books are the perfect distraction and the best of friends, so it’s really quite agonising to realise that I can’t find a book for me as quickly as I once could.

Plus, I feel too young to be reading about divorces and middle-aged suburban dramas and desperate housewives and rich CEOs (I have told several people to smack me if I ever pick up 50 Shades of Grey). I’m still a reckless young soul who wants stories filled with excitement and wonder and witty romances and badass characters. I still love Harry Potter and Maximum Ride and The Hunger Games and books about mental health and memoirs written by 20-somethings. Surely my interests are too spritely to warrant a trip to bestsellers?

In saying that, I do love anything written by James Patterson or Zoe Foster Blake, neither of whom write for a YA audience. So maybe there is some hope for me still. But in the meantime, if you can recommend any good books written about 20-somethings that would be FANTASTIC! I am in a serious literary slump at the moment and I need some inspiration ASAP.

Till next time,


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October 23, 2017

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