Guilty…pleasure or pain

So I’m in the middle of reading this book, a novel which has won some of the highest honors in fiction and has received incredible critical acclaim and I could not wait to finally read it and yes, I loved the first chapter…but honestly, I’ve sort of lost all interest in it at this point. The unique writing style, the characters, the pace and setting…well, they’ve all just sort of the lost the magic they first held for me and maybe it was my fault for reading all the critical acclaim in the first few pages, but it’s gone and now I’m feeling super guilty for wanting to put it down and begin my latest Paul Auster book, a novel by my favorite author sitting unopened on my  bedside table and one I know will inspire my own writing (as always).

Should I let the self-inflicted guilt control me and struggle to finish my current book, or should I just move on and not look behind? 

It all seems pretty clear to me after writing it out. And I am PSYCHED to begin the Auster book tonight!

(Funny, that sentence in bold up there is what I ask myself all the time with regards to my current novel, which I am now more than 5 years into, and the constant question I ask myself:  do I put it away for good in order to beginning something new…or do I keep working on it? But it’s not the same as the book I’m reading, right? There’s no clear, easy answer and the responsibility – or guilt – I feel for my own novel is unparalleled.)

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