For all their differences, books by writers about writing agree on one thing: To be a writer, you must be a reader. So, I read voraciously.
I heard once that the excitement of starting a book is not the anticipation of “entering new worlds,” as the posters in elementary school libraries entice. For adults anyway, the thrill of starting a book is the thought that you’ll have the free time to finish it.
When I first heard that take, I didn’t want it to be true. I wanted to enter those worlds. But more so, I didn’t want to admit that I was reading in my free time. Because to have free time, I have to steal time: from family, because I can’t pretend to help my wife with a book in my hand; from work, when I find a 10–15-minute gap between appointments; or from myself, that is, rather than sleep.
But reading isn’t always a win-lose game. It’s just sometimes I have to read on the toilet.
I try to read a lot. I know I should give a book more thought after I finish it, but usually, I log my review and start another book the same day.
In this, I’m learning my limitations. I hear of other bookworms who make use of five or six bookmarks at a time. I’ve found three is a sweet spot for me, where two of those are for church groups I’m in. I can only truly have one book-for-pleasure going at a time.
But it’s hard to help myself. Because whenever I go to the library, I come back with three books to queue up. If I don’t come back from the library with books, did I really go? And when I trade in books at a local bookstore, the store credit feels like play money or a library card so I go out with as many books as I had going in.
I’m also learning, reluctantly, how to quit books. A book in my hand is worth two in the bookstore since it’s right in front of me. But when I’ve begun to doubt whether the book’s gratuitous content will be redeemed, I remember that there are too many books out there not to quit the bad ones.
I have a long-term goal to read all the books on my personal bookshelf. I could probably finish them in two or three years if I stayed away from the library. But I like to cycle the genre I read, and most of our personal books are Christian living and non-fiction. We use the books we buy and keep for reference. To pull off the shelf to recall a quote or revisit a chapter to lend to a friend. Of course, the more presentable books are in the living room, and the more unpresentable ones are in our bedroom.
I rarely re-read books, though I trust this recommendation.
I also have a habit of looking at the top of the book at each reading session. I’ve paused a reading session to see where the bookmark is and to see if I’ve made any demonstrable progress during that session. More often than not, it’s the case of the watched pot that never boils. I make incremental progress, pages at a time. Yet, as I’ve learned in running, one foot at a time (one page at a time) will get you to the finish line eventually.
I just read—in a book, of course—some mind-blowing math on how much we can possibly read in a year (if we’re strategic about who we’re stealing time from):
– Scot Bellavia
