17 books in January, 8 in February, 10 in March, 6 in April.

I started off this year strong, and now I’ve hit a slump.

It’s not that I don’t want to read, I absolutely do, but when I look at my shelves, most of which contain my TBR pile I’m downright overwhelmed.

I’m sure this isn’t a common feeling amongst those who read a lot, the thought of never finishing the books you own, the fear of possibly not enjoying those you haven’t read but have spent some hard earned cash on.

In a rare event, I’ve been reading the same three books since the beginning of April. Meg Cabot’s The Bride Wore Size 12, Patricia Briggs’ Dead Heat and Arthur Conan Doyle’s The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes.

As you can see, none of these things or rather, books, are like the other. But yet none of them seem to be capturing my attention.

So what is a reader to do? When all she wants to do is lounge outside and read a book, but nothing seems to be capturing her attention.