As a journalist who covers books and culture (among other things), I have the terrible privilege to submerge myself in books on any given day. Here's what I do, (please don't try this):
1. For work, I oscillate between old books of journalism, whether it be Hemingway's war reporting, Didion's essays, or more recent inside-baseball sorts o…
As a journalist who covers books and culture (among other things), I have the terrible privilege to submerge myself in books on any given day. Here's what I do, (please don't try this):
1. For work, I oscillate between old books of journalism, whether it be Hemingway's war reporting, Didion's essays, or more recent inside-baseball sorts of books, like "She Said." This helps keep me sharp, and also reinforces my crippling anxiety/self-worth, which in turn forces me to work harder thereby helping me file articles on deadline hoping my editor realizes she's holding my soul in her hands (jk—kinda). These are kept by my desk and flipped through whenever I need a kick in the pants, or looking for an idea on how someone much more skilled than me tackled a sentence, subject, etc.
2. I have my "wakeup and smell the existential dread" audiobook that I listen to as I open up the house, guzzle my first coffee, and generally surface from sleep. These books are your proudly mid books, the ones that you don't necessarily want to clog your shelves, but are easy enough to follow, even as you low-key disassociate while emptying dishwasher. For example, I just finished "The Maid," chef's kiss.
3. Next is my "sit in the sun and watch people walk their dogs" books. Here is where I feel most heroic. These are mostly ambitious books: your prize winners, the debut darlings, the things I need to have at least one cup of coffee in my system before cracking open. For the rest of the day, I chase this sense of misguided grandeur and elation.
4. I have to keep up! I have the brutal challenge to limp through the advance copies that threaten my mailman's sciatica on any given day. Now, with two cups of coffee in my system, hopefully some sort of exercise out of the way, and a third caffeinated beverage by my side, I begin the real work: the close read. I carve out about 2-3 hours, depending how late I am on a deadline, the state of my inbox, etc. to read something that seems especially promising or is relevant to an assignment I'm either pitching or working on. I underline and highlight and make notes in the margins. When the post-its come out, you know it's really singing.
5. I'm a big fan of book podcasts to learn about new authors and new-to-me authors. I like to listen to these on runs, attacking a jigsaw puzzle, and folding laundry. Oh, and BookTok.
As a journalist who covers books and culture (among other things), I have the terrible privilege to submerge myself in books on any given day. Here's what I do, (please don't try this):
1. For work, I oscillate between old books of journalism, whether it be Hemingway's war reporting, Didion's essays, or more recent inside-baseball sorts of books, like "She Said." This helps keep me sharp, and also reinforces my crippling anxiety/self-worth, which in turn forces me to work harder thereby helping me file articles on deadline hoping my editor realizes she's holding my soul in her hands (jk—kinda). These are kept by my desk and flipped through whenever I need a kick in the pants, or looking for an idea on how someone much more skilled than me tackled a sentence, subject, etc.
2. I have my "wakeup and smell the existential dread" audiobook that I listen to as I open up the house, guzzle my first coffee, and generally surface from sleep. These books are your proudly mid books, the ones that you don't necessarily want to clog your shelves, but are easy enough to follow, even as you low-key disassociate while emptying dishwasher. For example, I just finished "The Maid," chef's kiss.
3. Next is my "sit in the sun and watch people walk their dogs" books. Here is where I feel most heroic. These are mostly ambitious books: your prize winners, the debut darlings, the things I need to have at least one cup of coffee in my system before cracking open. For the rest of the day, I chase this sense of misguided grandeur and elation.
4. I have to keep up! I have the brutal challenge to limp through the advance copies that threaten my mailman's sciatica on any given day. Now, with two cups of coffee in my system, hopefully some sort of exercise out of the way, and a third caffeinated beverage by my side, I begin the real work: the close read. I carve out about 2-3 hours, depending how late I am on a deadline, the state of my inbox, etc. to read something that seems especially promising or is relevant to an assignment I'm either pitching or working on. I underline and highlight and make notes in the margins. When the post-its come out, you know it's really singing.
5. I'm a big fan of book podcasts to learn about new authors and new-to-me authors. I like to listen to these on runs, attacking a jigsaw puzzle, and folding laundry. Oh, and BookTok.
OMG. I'm exhausted! Liz, you are a warrior!
terrible privilege indeed!
Check out the Natural^^
Interesting structuration that your reading / listening habits weave into your typical day Liz.
I'm minded to take a mosey out over the ether to your 'Gasoline Books' . . .