A few days ago I wrote about my stack of unfinished books, attributing my inability to completing them to “Reader’s Block.” Then I became inspired, maybe because I called myself out in public.

What I mean by ‘inspired’ is that since then I’ve finished one novel and one non-fiction book. It feels good. I also think I’ve realized a way to get through the other unfinished works too. The trick is to skim.

To date, I’ve always read every single word in a book, even when I found each tedious. I felt I owed it to the author, because I would want a reader to do the same for my work. So what if it bogged me down and made the reading feel obligatory.

But, in the two books I finished, I tried skimming over the paragraphs I wasn’t interested in. I didn’t try to analyze every sentence for its dynamics or how it fit into the whole. Instead I gave myself permission to read the parts of the book I wanted and forego the rest. And it worked.

I don’t feel I lost any of the essentials of either book. I understood the story behind the novel and I learned much from the non-fiction. So maybe because I write, and have written for a living, I place too much value on the words, the sentences, the structure. Perhaps instead I need to approach my pleasure reading as a novice would. Just looking for the good parts and ignoring the rest.

I plan to implement this approach with the other books that are unfinished on my bookcase. I hope it will offer a good sampling of how to get more fun from pleasure reading in the future. And, with this, the corollary is that I don’t expect my readers to pour over every word as if each were golden.

Essentially, I just need to chill out when it comes to reading.

At heart I’m a romantic. Brilliant sunsets and well-performed piano concertos and mushy Valentine’s Day cards and unexpected kisses unravel me. I become toast.

At the same time, I’m prone to the hokey saying for inspiration in my everyday life. My home is filled with them, each carefully displayed so as not to intrude on the turf of another. Each also follows certain themes.

In our laundry room we have two pillows above the cupboards that read: “A fisherman lives here with the catch of his life” and “Life is a little sweeter in a home beside the water.” The rest of the space is occupied with bottles in the shape of fish, various books on fishing, photos of Earl fishing, and one bookend shaped like a fly-rod.

In the kitchen area, you can read: “Maybe it’s not Home Sweet Home. Adjust” and “Martha Stewart doesn’t live here.” Then there is “Our gourmet kitchen is closed; try our famous peanut butter and jelly sandwich.” This last plaque was created by my son, Kevin, in seventh grade shop about twenty-five years ago; and it has hung in every one of my kitchens ever since. In future years it will attain the status of heirloom.

Then there are the two notes attached to my office door. One says “Life is too important to be taken seriously,” something with which I totally agree. The other says, “Life is not a dress rehearsal,” again something that I agree with. The trick is to combine the sentiment of these two so that you think, “Life is not a dress rehearsal, but I don’t have to be perfect in either the first or second act.”

Earl and I recently bought two new plaques, and I mounted one today over the closet door in his office. It screams “Oh, Behave.” Which, if you know Earl, is right on. The other plaque is more serious and says: “Motto To Live By: Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, martini in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming “WOO HOO, what a ride!”

I must find a place of honor for this one.

They are stacked in their own neat little corner, almost like children who have been given a time out. And what these ten books have in common is that I’ve read approximately two/thirds of each and then set the work aside.

Some of the books are fiction; others offer advice on the writing life. Some were recommended by friends and family who know my interests, while others called to me in bookstores. All remain unfinished, even though none is boring or uninteresting.

The truth is I have chronic reader’s block, a malady that’s had me in its thrall for about a year now, maybe longer. I’ve never seen it defined in a dictionary, so I’ll give the problem credence by defining it as “that condition where a previously avid reader begins a new book, eagerly moves through enough of it to determine if she wants to finish it, decides it’s worthy, but then becomes derailed as she gets closer to the end.”

Reader’s block doesn’t prevent me from starting another new book; it just keeps me from finishing any. So, in the past year, I’ve read only one book, a novel, from start to finish. The others sit waiting patiently for me to return, while I’ve run out of bookmarks and have taken to reading only the daily newspaper and contemporary magazines whose articles don’t require lengthy periods of concentration.

I suspect some of my closer acquaintances might say, “Yes, Anne, but you always read the last page of a book first.” And I would have to admit it is true. “Ah,” they’d probably nod, “doesn’t that ruin it for you? Doesn’t it make the book less interesting?”

I’ve done this all my reading life. It does change the perspective from which I read a book, but I was always capable of then going back to the beginning and reading to the last page in the usual fashion. So I don’t think reading the last page first is the root of my problem, but I don’t know what is. If anyone else out there has experienced reader’s block, I would appreciate hearing from them. Perhaps we could form a support group.

I sense my little stack of unfinished books is nodding its communal approval.

The primary job of headlines in a newspaper is to entice the reader to read the entire article and to sum its contents in several words, in case the reader passes on. Good headlines usually include some double meaning or some relationship to a bigger picture than the story at stake.

Yesterday I read the headline, “Haze shrouds Turin”; and I smiled. Having graduated from a Catholic university, I knew too well that the Shroud of Turin was supposedly the burial cloth that covered Jesus Christ. I thought the headline was clever, although perhaps someone out there thinks it’s blasphemous.

Headline writers are a breed unto themselves. They don’t get any public recognition, but their best work makes for a better newspaper experience. Here are some of the clever headlines I read over the weekend.

“Deere takes a strong leap” covered a story about Deere and Co.’s recent profits. “Barbie figures large for Mattel” plays on the two meanings of the word ‘figures.’ “Thinking about the big picture” has to do with the revolution in hi-def TV. “You really feel gee forces in MazdaSpeed6” touts a new car. “Tut, tut: the great pyramids aren’t all in Egypt” is about oil companies and pyramid scams. You get the idea.

Not every headline is worth a chuckle, so for me the challenge is to read them all and quickly decide what I think is clever. Often, on the basis of the headline, I decide whether or not to read the story. It may be backing into my reading material, but I like to think I’m giving headline writers their secret due.