Coming Home

Vacation reflections, a reading reset, and what's on my nightstand this July

My family and I recently came home from a vacation I desperately needed. Spring was an unexpectedly busy season. It left me longing for lazy days with a book and an Arnold Palmer (the most refreshing warm weather beverage, if you ask me).

Although summer is shaping up to be just as hectic, our time away gave me the distance I needed to recognize that — in all areas of my life, even here — I’ve been heaping expectations on myself without stopping to think about what’s really important.

I started Reading in the Dark because I wanted to combine two of my lifelong loves: reading and writing. My relationship with reading has always been the simpler one. I learned to read early enough that it feels like something I was born doing. I always have a book with me. I read whenever I have a free minute, and sometimes when I don’t.

As a kid, I dreaded bedtime and struggled to fall asleep. I’d stare at the ceiling until the coast was clear, then hang over the footboard of my bed, sneaking chapters in the square of light from the living room until I got caught. I’ve been reading in the dark almost as long as I’ve been reading, as my poor eyesight will attest.

In all the years since, books have never lost their magic. They still offer entertainment, escape, refuge, and a way of making sense of the world — experiences I am eager to share with other readers.

Unfortunately, nothing amps up my inner critic like the act of writing. That b*tch is noisy, y’all. And, like many perfectionists, I am a master procrastinator when I feel uncertain.

My first weeks on Substack, I got lost in the details. I focused on color schemes (Canva immediately entered the chat) and posting schedules (very important when you haven’t written anything to post yet), instead of putting words on the page.

Rather than allowing this space to be a fun, creative outlet, I turned it into an assignment I could fail. When life got busy, it was a welcome excuse to choose reading over writing.

Then, while we were traveling, my library hold for the audio version of Mad Mabel came in. I couldn’t wait to start listening. After finishing my vacation books, I was also ready for a slow reread of Tess of the d’Urbervilles.

I hadn’t planned to read them together, but I immediately noticed connections. Tess and Mabel are asking similar questions about guilt and innocence, judgment and forgiveness — especially as they relate to women.

This is how my reading life has always worked.

Books find me, and they find one another.

The connections that matter most aren’t always the ones I expected to find; they’re the ones I discover. So, instead of trying to organize my reading around the perfect theme or publish on the perfect schedule, I’m going to trust my bookish intuition a little more and follow the questions my reading uncovers.

That, also, feels like coming home.

I’m still here, sneaking in chapters after bedtime. Won’t you pull up a chair and join the conversation?