I try so hard to revive the lively spirit I used to have in regards to book reviews. I started my first book blog shortly after high school and I had so much fun with it. I was crap at consistent blogging but I posted whenever I had the opportunity (and didn’t forget.) I practically lived in the first library I worked at. Literally. I had a mini stash of cereal and milk along with my own creamer for coffee in the staff refrigerator. We all had keys to the building so I would go in before opening and make a pot of coffee, eat a bowl of cereal, and just wander around the stacks until it was time to open. I didn’t even work all day, I worked the closing shift and was only part-time. I would be there before opening, then ride my bike to campus to my classes, then I’d come back to work, then I’d go to wherever I was living or whoever I was staying with at the time.
Maybe it was the fact that I was constantly surrounded by books that inspired me. Maybe it was because at that time of my life I still believed in my abilities. Ability to write, review, and recommend anything book related. Picking up the book blog again after so long almost makes me feel like a fraud. Why now? Why ever? What good am I now when I’ve been out of the game for so long? My writing skills are worse than before; I sound like such a child. And things have drastically improved in the book world thanks to social media. Booktubers, aesthetically pleasing Instagram accounts, tons of celebrity book clubs, etc. Who am I in the sea of literary bliss and beauty? Most likely no one.
So again… why now? Why ever? I do it because I must. If there’s one thing that I can confidently say is part of my identity, it is books. So, I will push past the feelings of insecurity and push forward with posting reviews and other bookish content, even if it’s crappy content. Past the insecurity is my happiness for this hobby and I will always strive to keep that happiness.
-Kena
My Novel Garden 