Kathy Hamilton For the last few years, I have been making reading goals. Each January I set out to reach a certain number of books by December. Goodreads aids me in this by creating a lovely little infographic of my reading year but lately, I’ve been wondering- does making reading goals help or hinder my reading life?
The Best Laid Plans…
In January 2020, when I was making reading goals, I set my self the lofty objective of reading 50 books in a year. At slightly less than one book a week, it was ambitious but, as an avid reader, I thought, totally doable. I started well, actually getting ahead of schedule at one point in February. But of course, as with everything else, in March all my best-laid plans were completely derailed- global pandemic style.
For almost two months, I hardly went near a book. Like most of the world, my focus was elsewhere- learning to deal with a new normal that included a national lockdown, adapting to working from home, constant worry about the health and safety of loved ones and just a general sense of being cast adrift from normal life.
In life, sometimes you don’t meet your goals and that’s ok. Even with the best of intentions set in place. A game plan worthy of a top-flight sports coach. Or just the will to do it. If there was any lesson from 2020 it’s the reminder that sometimes life just happens.
What is a Reading Goal Anyway?
In fact, I got so focused on simply trying to get through the days that the idea of taking time to read felt gratuitous. Our brains are funny old things aren’t they? In hindsight, the perfect antidote to the stress of daily life would have been to take an hour here and there to totally escape into a good book.
But of course, my brain had other plans and those plans included giving me the ability to focus of a goldfish. Besides, the ever-present goal I had set loomed in the back of my mind. I should have read 10 books by now, 20, 30…
By July I realised that even if I devoted every spare minute to reaching my goal of reading 50 books in one year I probably wouldn’t make it. I felt defeated. It was ludicrous actually, Rome was in flames all around me and all I could think about was how disappointed I was not to reach this arbitrary goal. A lofty number floating somewhere in the distance.
Not Making Reading Goals is Ok
Then, after wallowing in self-defeat I had a moment of clarity. Sometimes you don’t meet your goals- and that’s ok. In fact, it’s better than ok. Goals aren’t concrete markers of success. They’re simply aids that humans make to help them progress in a chosen area. Failing to meet them by a date we set ourselves isn’t failure. Failure is giving up completely.
Besides, when I actually reassessed my goal to read 50 books in one year I began asking myself why I’d even made it in the first place. What was I hoping to achieve or prove from trying to read that many books? Who, besides myself, would even care that I didn’t meet this goal? After all, a goal only works if there is a will to reach it.
As someone who loves reading, I realised the time frame allotted to each book gave me hardly any time to savour the process. I was racing needlessly through books, choosing them based on how quickly I thought I could read them rather than because I really thought I’d enjoy them. I rejected books I have long wanted to read, like Villette, because at over 800 pages- I knew it would take too much time to read. All in pursuit of making reading goals. In fact, my priorities were completely out of order.
Lesson Learned
By making reading goals that were entirely focussed on quantity rather than quality I had completely lost sight of the reason behind them. My original impulse had been innocent enough.
Guided by Book FOMO, I wanted to read 50 books in one year because there are so many books out there that I’d love to read and I didn’t want to miss out on them. But my goal actually crushed that impulse. It made me avoid reading. I think this applies to so many of the goals we make in our lives.
So here’s your reminder, sometimes you don’t meet your goals and that’s ok. Once I set aside this futile aim and stopped looking at reading like a number count everything changed.
It’s no surprise to me that the books I loved reading in 2020 are the ones I read after July. Hamnet by Maggie O’Farrell, Framley Parsonage by Anthony Trollope and yes Villette by Charlotte Bronte. These books that stand out as the highlights of my reading year and ALL of them would not have made the cut before I failed my goal.
What a shame that would have been! These beautiful books brought me such a wealth of emotion and joy in a time when I was in such need of it. The real failure would have been to leave them standing on the shelf.
Making Reading Goals Going Forward
So this year, when making reading goals, I asked myself what it really is that I hope to achieve. Instead of chasing numbers and buying books that look good on Instagram I want to fall back in love with the lazy languorous style of reading again.
Instead of racing forward, I want to spend time with books that deserve it. So this year, for the first time, I’m not really making reading goals. Let’s see where the journey takes me!
