Most of us have an unmanageable TBR pile. Some of us aren’t reading quickly enough to put a dent in it. A lot of us are adding to it. It’s pretty simple mathematics or statistics or physics (I don’t know how those work). And the truth is…it’s going to eventually kill you.
If you have a pile of unread books and you’re not reading them, they will sit on your shelf. If you’re buying more books, those will squish in alongside the books you already have on the shelf. If you continue to get new books, they will sit on top of the books you have, then in front of the books you have, possibly spilling over onto a nearby table (or four) and onto the floor. When you are hopping over hardcovers and ducking under paperbacks, you know you’ve lost control. Your love of books has blinded you and now it is too late. (You have literary Gremlins.) These books simply cannot stay perched atop the precarious pile any longer. Whether they trap you in a corner, suffocate you, or come crashing down on your head…they will eventually kill you.
Word problems are fun. (See what I did there? You know, because a toppling TBR pile is a problem. With words. Get it? Okay, let’s go.) There are 1000 books on your shelf. 1 book is taken off the shelf and read. 20 more books are purchased and added to the shelf. 5 books are taken off the shelf and read. 10 are received as gifts (lucky you) then 25 more books are purchased and 5 read. (If you subtract 1 from 1000 then add 20 then subtract 5 then add 10 and add another 25, then subtract 5 they actually defy the laws of math and multiply…and eventually kill you.)
Once upon a time, people and books lived together in harmony. They got along swimmingly. They were similar in a lot of ways and respected each other. After some indeterminate amount of time had passed (because this is too short to get into the history of it all), people forgot that books had feelings. People treated books poorly, bending their pages, breaking their spines, piling them in stacks on the floor, and, worst of all, leaving them to gather dust. The books felt unloved, neglected, and angry. Those tricky YA trilogies, dastardly detective novels, and sneaky mysteries gathered fellow books for a revolt. People began to get that uneasy sensation of being watched. Began to imagine books were glaring at them from shelves, tables, and floors. Under the careful watch of sweet romances (they’re the ringleaders), deadly plots were hatched (pun completely intended), and plans were carried out. Moral: TBR piles will eventually kill you.
Story in Emojis:
📚📚📚📚📚 🔪 😱
📚📚📚📚📚 🔪 💀
This silliness is in response to Diana’s awesome writing prompt about TBR piles. Check out her post here:
I haven’t written one of these in a long time. But, this week, Colleen’s #TankaTuesday is turning 5 years old. Happy Birthday, Tanka Tuesday! 🥳 I wanted to celebrate by participating. (Sorry, Colleen. I’m a bit rusty.)
Thetheme is autumn’s ‘harvest moon’.
A haiku-ish contribution to Colleen’s Weekly Poetry Challenge. You can write any of the following: Haiku / Tanka / Haibun / Cinquain / Senryu. Check it out and challenge yourself to some poetry.
She hitched her bag back over her shoulder and stepped off the path. Hidden in the ferns, she had time to think. Was there another way to get to the hill? Could she wait it out? Should she confront it?
A million more questions plagued her, comforted her, kept her still in body, if not mind.
She was stuck in the safety of not moving on.
The rock was fairly small for a boulder in these parts, wasn’t it? Or was it large? She didn’t dare peek, relying on the accuracy of memory.
Fear danced with reality and the rock became a boulder, then three, then a wall. Late morning shadows stretched before her, creating shapes of all that the obstacle could be.
Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, another, another… On opening them, she saw the dark shape of the ferns. Felt the fear of the woman waiting in them. She stepped out from behind the stone, reached out her hand, and walked with her to the hill.
Here is my attempt at #writephoto, a weekly writing prompt for poetry/flash/short stories hosted by Sue Vincent. (So pleased Sue was feeling able to bring #writephoto back. Please do visit and write a little something.)
She got a Disney princess dress for Halloween two years ago. Now she wears that stupid costume, and crown, every day.
We’re the Lemond twins but, in our neighborhood, we’re known as the Lemon Queens. And it’s because of my sister. She turned a serious business into a joke. And I hate her.
After the cards, cakes, and casseroles stopped, I opened a lemonade stand. I made the drinks myself. People said it was tasty. It wasn’t. I smiled. They knew we needed money and I knew to be nice, so we both pretended.