Confessions of a Serial TBR Builder

I’m guilty. Yeah, I said it.

Guilty of an out-of-control TBR, with absolutely no shame.

We all do it. Stack our TBR pile so high it nearly reaches the ceiling (literally or figuratively, depending on your pick of poison). But who decided that having a long TBR was a problem?

Somewhere along the way, reading became another thing to “manage.” Another list to complete. Another goal to check off. As if books were meant to be conquered instead of experienced.

You know that quote about stopping to smell the roses?
Well, I personally think the pages of a new book smell infinitely sweeter than roses ever could.

The thing is, I’m not only guilty of having a growing TBR. (Side note: I’m really exposing myself here.) I’m also guilty of rarely shopping my own TBR when it’s time to choose my next read.

Now before you go all book snob on me, hear me out.

A TBR is meant to hold different versions of us, at different moments in our lives. The ambitious version who buys the dense literary novel. The romantic version who can’t resist the soft, pastel rom-com. The healing version who adds every self-growth title she sees. The chaotic version who impulse-adds a thriller at 11:07 p.m.

Not every version of you is ready at the same time.

Sometimes the book you should read isn’t the one you need right now. And that is okay.

Reading is supposed to be fun. Entertaining. Enlightening. Escapist.

A long TBR isn’t pressure. It’s permission.

It’s space being held for every version of you: the one you’ve been, the one you are, and the one you’re still becoming. The stories will wait. They aren’t going anywhere. And who cares if you add more before you read what’s already there?

Because when the right version of you shows up, the right book will, too.