I’m reading a book by an author I love – wait, let me amend that – I love her books, her…not so much. I have met her. She comes off as a snob and I’ve seen her snub fans in person, including young teens who really don’t need that kind of attitude from an idol. And no, I won’t tell you her name – not setting myself up for a lawsuit. But while I may not personally like her, I do like her writing. And like many others of my favorites, I find myself putting off things that need done just to read one more chapter.

One more chapter and I’ll go take care of the dishes. One more chapter and I’ll make dinner. One more chapter and I’ll get to my own writing. Just one more chapter…

That’s the kind of book I want to find more of. Ones that draw you in and won’t let you go. Even now, I’m sitting here with the book next to me, about a hundred pages left to read, and all I want to do is finish it. And yes, it wouldn’t take me that long to read a hundred pages, but I have things that have to be done. Things I’ve been putting off just to read one more chapter. And no, it’s not the dishes or dinner – I can put those off. I’m leading a writing workshop on Saturday morning on editing and I need to get my notes together for the class. And I do have an actual job that I occasionally go to – one where I earn a paycheck. Things I need to do.

But just one more chapter…