For the past decade, I've meticulously maintained a list of books. Books I've read, books I've heard about and books I want to read. I figure I add half a dozen or so every month. Last night, as I finished the final page of "Dinosaur Knights" by Victor Milan, I checked my queue for the next target.
It was empty.
All the bestsellers I wanted to read, works by friends and interesting titles, not to mention the novels from my wife's book club.
Done. Nothing. Nada.
Guess I have NO excuses for not writing now...bummer.