I Kristen Joy Wilks have stopped reading a book 1/3 of the way through.
I know that this is alarming. I always finish books. Unless they scare me and I find myself lying awake at night drenched in cold sweats unable to arise and stumble to the bathroom for fear that Bunnicula might hop out of nowhere and guzzle down my vegetable juices. Then of course I abort my reading experience. But for the most part I finish the books that I start. Even the wretchedly written ones. I call in research and laugh and pray and hope that my prose is not similarly hilarious to others.
But yesterday I stepped out of my normal behaviour and closed a book of short stories before even finishing half of them. They were all about being sweet sixteen and strangely every one was terribly depressing. Anorexia and cheating boyfriends and sexual predators, Oh My! Depressing indeed. And when I read the second story that featured two girls smooching I despaired of the lighthearted yuck free reading experience that I so desired. I even found myself moping around the house due all of that teen angst. Too much! So, if you see a short story collection with a cute pink cover about being sweet sixteen, beware. It contains much too much drama, despair, and of course inter-girl necking.