I used to be very adamant about finishing the books I started. This might be due to the somewhat spiritual take I have on stories and storytelling—i.e., I took the time to step into this world, and therefore I “owe it” to the book, and to myself, to see it through to the end. Otherwise, I am missing out on the experience / insight / wisdom this story could possibly pass on to me in the reading of it.
It could also be due to the fact that I know how stories work, and if I don’t like the way a book is going there is always the possibility that everything I thought I knew about the plot and the characters and the world could be turned upside-down by the end, and everything will make sense in an absolutely brilliant way that I would, again, be missing out on if I stopped reading.
Or it could be due to the fact that I only ever read the books I bought or was gifted, making it not only a waste of my time to quit in the middle of them, but a waste of money, too.
But I think a lot of it just comes down to plain stubbornness.
The problem with refusing to put down a book you’re not fully enjoying is that the story suddenly becomes a chore. And what do we do with chores? We procrastinate on them. We avoid them wherever possible. And when we finally do get to them, we slog through them with a “grin and bear it” attitude that only makes the process slower and more painful.
Once upon a time, I was lucky to make it through one book a month. And I would look around at all these other readers with yearly goals of fifty plus books—often even more. And just as often, those goals were met within their first month.
I couldn’t understand how they were doing it. I loved books, too: so, why couldn’t I read as fast as them?
Then, my partner finally convinced me to get a library card. On my first official visit, I checked out three books. The first two I breezed through. The third one? I felt “meh” about. I held on to it for about a month and got myself to the halfway point. And my feelings never changed for it. It wasn’t a bad book; it wasn’t even uninteresting. But, for one reason or another, it just wasn’t vibing with me at the time.
With the return date looming, I did something I hadn’t done in years: I Did Not Finish the book. I DNFed it.
Instead, I turned them in and got more books. And I did it again. And again. I kept reading through them at my own quick, but comfortable pace. And while it still may not be impressive by other readers’ standards, my yearly reading goal has soared to fifty plus stories read with enjoyment—and not twelve to fifteen books read with some struggle.
DNFing has changed my life. I have been enjoying the books I read in a way I haven’t for a very long time. And I am reading so much more because of it. And as someone who has always loved to read, I can understand the pain some people may have with putting down a book only a few chapters in. But leaving the books that do not excite you behind only generates more time and energy for the books that do.
It might take a while, but I would highly recommend learning to let go of those stories that don’t sit well with you for one reason or another. You can always come back to them at another time, or you can bask in the relief you feel for freeing yourself from them once and for all. Either way, if you haven’t already, learning to DNF could very well change your reading game forever.
Night Owls, have you learned to DNF books? If not, what keeps you adamant about finishing them?
