Finding My Lazy Genre (And Escaping Reader’s Block with Cozy Mysteries)

Reader’s block hit me like a wet paper towel after college. Who knew years of reading ONLY for school and committing every braincell to your degree could burn you out on books??

I used to devour books as if they were my favorite dessert. But once I graduated high school, I’d open a book, read two paragraphs, and suddenly remember I needed to reorganize my closet or wanted to scroll on pinterested for an hour. I could not for the life of me focus.

Then, I cracked open a cozy mystery a month ago, and, just like that, I was back. Not back in an “I’m suddenly reading 700-page literary fiction before bed” way. No, I was back in the “I finished this paperback in two sittings with a latte and a blanket and now I want ten more just like it” kind of way.

It made me realize something: I’d finally found my lazy genre.

Now allow me to explain. A lazy genre isn’t a dig at the books, first off. It’s a term of endearment. It’s the genre you can slide into like sweatpants after a long day. The kind that requires zero brain gymnastics but still gives you all the serotonin of a well-timed twist or a slow-burn romance. For some people, that’s YA fantasy with dragons and chosen ones. For others, it’s angsty romance with dramatic rainstorms and not-so-conveniently timed confessions (hey, Jane Austin readers. How ya doing?)

For me I had just found out that It’s cozy mysteries with predictable plots, modern settings, and characters who are funny without being emotionally exhausting. Like, please don’t give me a main character going through too much. I’m tired. I want her to bake muffins, accidentally find a dead body, and flirt with the local cop. Is that so much to ask?

There’s something comforting in knowing exactly what’s going to happen: someone dies, someone investigates, someone has a quirky pet, and justice is served along with with tea and cookies. It’s like watching reruns of your favorite show. You’re not surprised, but you are deeply content.

So here’s a thought for you all that I wanted to share: If you’ve been struggling to get back into reading, maybe you don’t need a “better” book. Maybe you just need your lazy genre. The one that goes down easy. The one that feels like a warm cup of Jo for your overstimulated brain.

Find it. Embrace it. Stack your nightstand with it.

And if anyone judges your reading choices, remind them that reading is reading. Whether it’s Tolstoy or a sassy amateur sleuth named Mabel who keeps stumbling over corpses in her idyllic coastal town.