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.

Why Saying “No” Is A Kindness

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I invited two dear friends to join a book club with me. I think their reactions were remarkable.

The first said, “No thanks,” directly.

“Business books are so oversaturated in my life right now. I’m only reading fiction,” he said. “I can’t read another business book right now.”

Done. Clear. Easy.

Being direct is a kindness.

The second hesitated on the phone and then said, “I can’t say yes right now, because I haven’t read a book straight through in a while, and I have a ton of traveling to do over the next month.”

I wasn’t sure if he wanted in or not. He wasn’t sure either. He clarified:

“When I say yes, I want to really mean it — I lock it in, like a commitment. So I don’t say yes unless I mean it. That’s why I’m hesitant to say yes, unless I know I’ll actually be there and be able to show up.”

So grateful.

This makes it easier for me, the book club organizer, not to wonder if a bunch of people signed up, but won’t actually participate. If they’ll flake. Whether or not I’ll be chasing people around or engaging in meaningful conversation around a book (which, clearly, is what the goal is).

Saying no — clearly, firmly, when you know you can’t make the commitment or the time — is a kindness.

Saying “yes” when you really mean no is a burden on other people’s energy, time, and space.

Say yes — when you mean it.

Say no when you don’t want to.

It is the kindest thing.

Have A Point of View

In our fear of being wrong, or looking stupid, or losing out on opportunities — we waffle. We waver. We fail to make decisions.

We try to make decisions that leave all the options open. We’ll try it all, rather than pick a single dish. We’ll date as many people as possible, rather than cultivate deeper relationships. We’ll rack up followers and acquaintances and friends, rather than spend time with one person through the difficult and exciting times.

Action and decision-making requires having an opinion.

When you have an opinion, you say, “I believe THIS about the world,” and “I think that it works better when we do it like THIS.”

This requires you to take a stand, to think about the consequences of a decision, and make a choice even when all the information isn’t present.

Decision making isn’t easy to do, but waffling isn’t necessarily an easier answer. It may feel cozy for a while, until you realize that not making a decision costs you as well:

When you don’t make a decision to date one person, you date nobody.
When you don’t pick what food to eat, you end up without dinner.
When you try to give your customers everything you want, you fail to differentiate yourself as a business. 
When you don’t decide what to focus on, you’re 55 and still don’t know what to do with your life. 

Decision-making seems like it will hurt. But not making a decision doesn’t actually lessen the pain.

What’s your point of view? What do you think is important?

How to practice saying no.

I walked into the restaurant and something didn’t feel right. The prices were too high, the waiter a little stuffy and dismissive, the air a little cold.

I can’t tell you exactly what it was, but I do know that my body was decidedly uncomfortable. While none of the particulars was enough to make a fuss—should I complain about the temperature?—I knew the minute after I walked in and sat down that it wasn’t right.

Social norms would cue me not to make a fuss and to stay where I am. Cognitive dissonance—the idea that we do things in accordance with our beliefs and decisions, to support our earlier actions—would have me stay put because I had already chosen to eat here, and leaving would mean changing my mind.

But my intuition, that feeling in my gut, in my body, knew. Intuition isn’t perfect. Sometimes it takes a moment to settle. Mostly, it takes a willingness to listen, and to listen closely. After being seated, I placed the napkin in my lap and looked across at my man’s face. I could tell he felt equally at odds, if not more so. I leaned over and asked him:

“You okay with this place? I’m not feeling it.”

A look of relief immediately washed across his face. “Yes,” he replied, “I don’t want to be here, either.”

We had already placed our drink orders, and it took another ten minutes to get a waiter back to our table. At that point, I looked at our waiter directly in the eye, smiled, and said, “We’re not staying for dinner after all. Here’s my card, please run us for the drinks, and that’s all we’d like tonight.”

We enjoyed a few sips of our beverages and pushed back our chairs. Within a few minutes, we were gone.

The power of saying no — and the need to practice it.

Sometimes you just need to say no.

No is a muscle that needs to be exercised just as often as yes.

No isn’t always a voice that jumps up and shouts its way into your ear. Sometimes “no” is a subtle whisper that’s only heard if you’ll listen for it.

No, it says, I don’t want to be here. I need you to make space. I need you to rest. 

The small times we say no is a practice in listening. When we practice listening, we tap into the power of our own intuition. Stopping to say no in line at the coffee shop and say, “Actually, I don’t want this coffee anymore; can you gift it to someone else?” is you exercising your right to listen—to yourself.

Saying no is a practice of listening.

When we practice the power of saying no, we build an inner strength of tapping into our intuition. There is a listening that comes from our own gut. Our own bodies already know, if we’re in tune. “I don’t want to be here right now,” your belly might be telling you. “This isn’t the right person for me, I know it,” your body might know intuitively. Itchy skin, wiggly fingers, tired eyes, disinterested neurons—they know.

Sometimes “no” shows up in strange ways (and why it’s okay to change your mind).

Saying no—and making any decision—is skill-building exercise. I don’t always know that I want to say no until after I make a decision — and I realize that now I know what I want.

We don’t always know everything in advance. It’s okay to say no in the middle.

Sometimes I say no and realize later that I wanted to say yes after all. Sometimes I say yes and realize that I wished I had said no earlier. We don’t always have all the information—if we knew how life would turn out, living wouldn’t be so extraordinary. Life is a series of experiments. Sometimes you say yes, and you learn that no would have been wonderful.

In those instances, write your experience into your mind and body. Remember to tell yourself, “Ahh yes, Sarah, here’s a moment when you can remember that no is an answer you’re allowed to give.”

You can also change your mind.

Changing your mind—or rather, making up your mind after receiving more information—is something that we can do. You’re allowed to change your mind after you’ve been seated at a restaurant. You can leave a party after you’ve walked in through the door—by hugging the hostess and saying, “I absolutely love that I got to see you, and I love you dearly, and I need you to know that I’m so tired that I need to get off my feet.”

You are allowed to not know. You are allowed to listen. You are allowed to say no. You are allowed to change your mind.

The power of yes can pull us into commitment that feels overwhelming. Alexandra Franzen has an exceptional resource out right now – a wee book full of scripts on saying no, and when and how to say no. My favorite? Scripts for saying no just because you don’t want to, whether it’s a client you don’t feel like working with, a conference you don’t want to keynote at, or a project you’re too tired to give your time to.

She even has a script for — and I love this so much — friends you just don’t want to spend time with at the moment. Beautiful, wonderful, smart friends that it’s okay to say no to.

You are allowed to say no.

No to clients, no to friends, no to freebies, no to time you don’t want to spend that way.

How to practice saying no:

Start small. The smallest, most insignificant things are the places we begin to cultivate our habits. Say no to the creamer you don’t actually like; put down the coffee once you realize you don’t want it after all. Leave an event early if you’re disinclined to go; say no to the television late at night when your body whispers, Hey You, let’s go to sleep.

Iterate. If you don’t know what you want, experiment with a new response. If your typical response is affirmative, test a small no and see how it feels. (Caution: this can become really fun as you unleash a reprise of your inner two-year old.)

Be kind and generous. The word “no” can still be thoughtful, kind, and sweet.“Gosh, love, I love everything about this event of yours, but I’m overbooked at the moment so I need to say no. I know how important RSVP’s are so I wanted to give you mine even though I won’t get to see your face this time.”  The word “no” can be exercised graciously and lovingly.

What can you say no to?