So, I’m going to admit this now. I failed. It’s not even going to be a question of whether I might pass or not. I won’t, and I know this now.
I read 7 books this year (and I’m on my eighth). I’m not proud of it, of course, but it’s nothing I can help. I have other responsibilities, and life got in the way. With Covid, I was hoping we’d be on strict lockdown, but in the case of my life, I got even busier than normal. I was working often, and school was harder than I was used to. I was overwhelmed, and everything that mattered most to me ended up being in the backseat.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to read, I did. In fact, I tried different ways of incorporating reading into my schedule. I started buying e-books so I could read at work. This worked until I realized I didn’t really want to listen to my co-workers on break, and ended up downloading episodes of E.R. to watch on break instead.
This isn’t my first time failing a challenge. I’ve only one once before, and it was in 2013. That was the year I graduated high school, so it made sense that I read a lot, and the following year I read more than what I read in 2013 (but failed the challenge I set myself). And over the years, I’ve read less and less books.
But this year was a new low. Less than 10. I’ve never felt so ashamed of a number before.
I even stopped reading fanfiction this year to focus on reading “actual” books! (AKA the ones that would count towards my goodreads challenge). I think this year was a weird one, and I’m accepting it.
I’m ending this year with I’m going to read more next year than I did this year. If I hit more than 7 books, I will be happy.