The books are all staring at me.
There’s a novel by Jack Vance I got this last summer. It’s short. Shouldn’t take more than a few hours to read. It reminds me I told myself I’d only buy books I’d read quickly. And have I? No.
There’s a novel by a friend. I haven’t read it yet. I found it in a bookstore and was so excited for her I snapped it up. I read the first few chapters and complimented her on her prose. I was sucked right into the story. But did I keep reading? No, I got distracted by something else.
Oh, and look at that ridiculous novel I couldn’t help but get. Amish Vampires in Space. Yes, that’s a real title of a real book, and I’ve been meaning to get to it.
My TBR wall heaps on guilt. Why aren’t I reading more? And right now I’m reading an ebook?! How dare I! I can’t take an ebook off my physical TBR wall!
Am I the only one that struggles with guilt when I look at the books I haven’t read? I thought reading was supposed to be fun! A way to escape or learn or any number of things, but where did this guilt thing come from?
Well, I’m supposed to be reading more.
What’s funny is that the books really don’t care. I know we love to give things personalities, but in reality, they’re just objects. They don’t actually have desires. The only person I’m disappointing is me.
And maybe my wife who has to live with my TBR wall.
Which means the best way to get past this guilt is to just forgive myself. I can read, and read for enjoyment. And I do. But I don’t have to read out of some sense of duty. I’m not shirking some assignment. The books are there for me, not me for my books. And that means it’s okay if I haven’t read them.
It’s okay!
And that means it’s okay for me to buy more books, since there’s no guilt involved, right?
Right?