I used to be a completionist. No matter how much I disliked a book, I felt a moral obligation to reach the final page. I treated every novel like a marathon—even if I was limping, dehydrated, and hating every second of it, I had to cross the finish line just to say I did it.
But lately, I’ve joined the DNF (Did Not Finish) Revolution, and let me tell you: the air is clearer over here.
The Turning Point
A few weeks ago, I was 150 pages into a "critically acclaimed" literary thriller. The prose was dense, the protagonist was insufferable, and I found myself scrolling through my phone just to avoid reading another chapter.
Then I looked at the stack of books on my nightstand—books I was actually excited about—and it hit me: I am a mortal human with a finite number of hours on this earth. If I read 50 books a year for the next 40 years, I only have 2,000 books left in my lifetime. Why on earth am I wasting one of those precious slots on a book that makes me want to take a nap?
The Rules of the Quit
If you’re a "guilt-reader" like I was, you might need a system to help you let go. Here is my current DNF protocol:
The 50-Page Rule: Give every book 50 pages. If the spark isn't there by then, start asking questions.
The Age Subtraction: A popular rule in the bookish community—subtract your age from 100. The resulting number is how many pages you give a book before quitting. (The older you get, the less time you have for nonsense!)
The "Spark Joy" Test: If I put the book down to go to the kitchen, do I feel a sense of dread about picking it back up? If yes, it’s gone.
It’s Not "Goodbye," It’s "Not Now"
The best part about DNFing a book is realizing that sometimes, it’s just the wrong time. Maybe I’ll love that dense historical biography in five years. But right now, while I'm juggling life, a newborn, and a million other things? I need a book that meets me where I am.
Stopping a book isn't a failure; it's an act of self-care for your hobby. ---
Do you struggle with "Completionist Guilt," or are you a ruthless DNF-er?
