How Do You Decide What Book to Read Next?

I’m the kind of person that always wants to add more books to the pile. More from Amazon, more from the library, more from the shared local bookshelf across the street in front of the coffee shop. How do I decide how many books to read this week? Which one? Help! I can’t decide! This is torture!

If I could read every (good) book ever made, I would.

In fact, I used to look forward to summer because the local library held a summer reading competition and I would try to read as many books as possible before the summer was out.

Gosh, I love books!

But, time has a way of limiting us, and I want quality over quantity.

Recently I stumbled on a great way of choosing which book to read next.

In 2017, I decided to keep a public list of every book I read and share my top 2-3 recommendations in my newsletter each month. I committed to reading more books by women, so at least half of all the books I’ll read this year will be by women. (I’m also tracking the number of books I read by people of color.)

I know that I want to read good books to recommend, and that I’ll probably have time for 2-4 books each month.

Simply by knowing that I’m writing down a list of all the books I’ve read has made me more discerning in which ones I pick up.

If this year’s reading list only has 24 books on it, which books will make the cut?

By limiting myself to two books, I’ve become more savoring of which ones to read. Sometimes having an edge increases the quality. When you choose what your boundaries are before you begin, sometimes the results are better.

And when you force yourself to decide—even if the constraints are arbitrary—deciding has power to it.

What books have you read this summer?

PS: here are my summer reading list recommendations.

An Answer For Everything

There’s an answer for everything. Every choice, every decision, every reason for being.

When you feel the impulse to dance, or wiggle, or scream, or wring your hands in frustration.

When you think you don’t want to go to a meeting, when you hate getting on the subway, when you want to quit working with a client, or a job.

“Because I want to,” is a perfectly acceptable reason.

Beyond acceptable. It is, at the root, one of the only reasons.

“Because I want to.”

“Because I don’t want to.”

It’s an answer for everything.

Default to Finish

Pssst! Quick note: I’ll be teaching a live-stream class on November 9th all about how to plan your week and set up your schedule. Go register in advance for the seminar here.

Do you finish what you start?

Let’s be honest: we’re pretty terrible, as humans, at estimating time. How long something will take, how much work it will do to finish something, how much energy we’ll have later.

Me? I always over-estimate how much I’m going to want to do something later. I get swept up in the high of the moment, in my exuberance, and sign up for ALL THE CLASSES.

The difference between something that gets done and something that remains unfinished is huge.

Unfinished work feels heavy, difficult, like a burden.

We pile up unfinished projects like additional rooms in a house, never returned to, until we’ve designed a house with 187 rooms and we don’t even know where to begin again.

Finished work — although scrappy, messy, and imperfect — is released. It is put into the world of exploration, of connection, of refinement. Push publish on the draft. Release a thought into the world.

If you only have an hour left to do the work, default to finishing it.

Put a smaller timer on it.

If you only had 5 minutes left, how would you finish it?

So many of my blog posts on this site are the product of a timer and a few minutes. I often set 6-minute, 8-minute, and other short burst intervals to write as quickly as possible.

Do it now or not at all.

This applies to signing up for online courses, too. Here’s a rubric I use and love, that might work for you.

You’re hesitating about signing up to do a new program or a course. (For me, it was Krista Tippett’s course on The Art of Conversation that really called to me.) Did I have time to take it?

If I have time today to take the course, at least an hour of it, then I have time to do it. If I can carve out time to do it now, then I know I have enough wiggle room in my schedule to make it happen.

However.

If I do not have time to do it now — in this moment, in this hour, in this day — then I am already too full and too busy to give it attention. (One way, however, to get around this is to delete something from your life to make space for the new thing. Everything is a tradeoff.)

That’s a rubric for deciding that helps me.

Do it now or not at all.

###

How many things are unfinished in your life right now? Leave a note in the comments with your best tips for finishing your work.

###

On Wednesday, November 9th I’ll be teaching a live-stream class all about how to rethink and restructure your week. Join me!

Just One

What would just one of something look like?

Not a diversity of items, but a simplicity of things. A specificity, a selection, and a deliberate choice between several?

Not three workout programs, but just one workout program.
Not seven yoga mats or towels, but just one.
Not eight new dresses or blouses, but just one. Your favorite one.
Not two sets of bedding, but just one.
Not four new books, but just one.
Not three bedrooms, but just one bedroom.
Not two cars, but just one car.
Instead of two sets of tablewear, just one set.
Instead of eight dreams, just one dream to work on.

Sometimes I get caught in the trap of needing more. I have a brown pair of boots, but now I need a black one. I have a black pair, but now I need a tan one. And I need a pair of rain boots. Four pairs of boots? Do I need four pairs of boots?

What would just one look like?

[Or none at all?]