I have been obsessively reading since right around Christmas time. When I say obsessively, I mean it. I finish one book and immediately launch right into the next one. In recent months, I have read all of Lilian Jackson Braun’s Cat Who books. Right now I am a little over halfway through Rita Mae Brown’s Mrs Murphy Mysteries. In addition to these two series, I have read quite a few other cozy mysteries, a bit of sci-fi and fantasy, a smattering of nonfiction, some paranormal, a few favorite old classics, and more.

For a while, I subscribed to Kindle Unlimited. I discovered that they did not always have the books that I wanted to read, and then they jacked up their prices (again), so I canceled.

I dug out my old library card at that point, renewed it over the phone, and downloaded Libby.

If you are a voracious reader, and have not discovered Libby, you really should check it out. It is an app / web application for Android, iPhone, and browser that allows you to access all of the libraries within your local library system. We’re talking free books. Unlimited free books and you don’t even have to leave your home.

To an old hermit like me, that is as good as gold.

Of course, one of the problems with having become completely addicted to chain reading, is that I’m not doing as much chain writing as I probably should be.

Another issue is that I have a bad habit (as do many authors) of reading as a writer. Although I truly do enjoy the stories as wonderful entertainment, my eyes can’t help picking out little oopses and lapses on the page. Most of the time these issues are minor, and I will just chuckle and read past them. I ran across one, a few books ago, that really got to me, though. It struck me strongly enough that I even complained to a friend about it.

The problem wasn’t so much in the story itself. The problem was that I am a total horse crazy kid and some of my fondest equine memories are of the great racehorse, Secretariat. Secretariat won the Triple Crown in 1973. He raced until the fall of that year, and was retired to stud. A horse’s gestation period is 11 months. Secretariat’s first crop of foals did not hit the ground until 1975.

To anyone who doesn’t love horses, that was probably quite boring. However, there’s a point. In that particular book, part of the mystery centered around a woman who went missing in 1974. It was stated that this person left several broodmares to her protege. One of those broodmares was supposed to be a daughter of Secretariat.

I guess it’s obvious where I’m going with this. If Secretariat’s first foals were not born until 1975, how could a broodmare daughter of his have been alive in 1974?

After I groaned and grumbled for a while, I laughed it off and quite enjoyed the rest of the story. I have to wonder, though, how much mail the author received about that little faux pas from fans of horse racing.

I suppose some writers might get frustrated with mistakes found in the books they read, but most of the time I tend to just smile and keep reading. After all, nobody is perfect, and when errors are found in my books (which is bound to happen to just about everyone who writes for publication), I hope my forgiving readers will chuckle for a moment and enjoy the stories anyway.