Ode to Libby

I've always been competitive. As a kid I played sports and that was a good outlet. But it became clear pretty quickly, at least to me, that I was too intrinsically motivated to have the competitive edge that would really set me apart from the other athletes.

I always wanted to do my best, but I wasn't really interested in being so good I was taking other people down. I was never motivated by beating other people. I was only motivated by beating myself.

As you can imagine, this focused self-perfectionism has both served me well and hampered me throughout my life. But it wasn't until I was out of college that I discovered a new way to focus this self competition.

I started keeping lists of the books I'd read by the year. Then I would compare how many books I read at the end of one year to the amount of books I'd read the previous year. The only person involved in this was myself. Literally no one else mattered. I could judge myself against myself. Perfect. And the stakes were low. Not making a reading goal is far less debilitating than not paying your bills.

This worked well, and still works well. It wasn't until my agent insisted that I up my social media game that I even really shared this list with anyone. But with apps that do cool cover collages, posting them became a thing. Participating in literary citizenship isn't as easy as just reading a lot. You have to also let people know when you like a book. Letting people know when you don't like a book is less encouraged on the social media scene. We all write trash at times. We don't need to revel in it when others do it.

But recently, my competitive book reading game has intensified. And there is a clear culprit. Libby. That's right, the library app that lets you borrow ebooks and audiobooks.

A symptom of my perfectionism is that I rarely take a situation as impossible. This can be great at times, but it can also lead to things like supervisors realizing they can raise the bar at any time and I will kill myself to vault over it.

And Libby is that force right now. I place a Libby hold, forget about it, and dive into whatever book or audiobook I'm enjoying (because I always have a audiobook and print book open at the same time) and then BAM Libby says my hold is ready.

But I'm only halfway through whatever I'm reading! What do I do? I read faster. Because Libby isn't going to set me up for failure at a game I invented and totally control the rules of. I will win, Libby. I will win. I will not lose my place in line to read that book!

And interestingly enough, I'm not upset about any of this. I am simply consuming books at a far greater speed than I used to. I only pick books I want to read, which at this point in my life is mostly genre fiction that makes me want to turn the page.

Is this a good or bad development for me? So far it's good. My constant consumption of books I actually want to read has allowed me to separate myself from the emotional rollercoaster of living in the 2020's. Diving into speculative horror is actually less scary than watching the news.

Who would have thought that the Libby app would be the key to unleashing my pent up need to outperform myself? Who would have thought the Libby app would be the unsung hero of the mid 2020's? Libby is the coach I never had but apparently always needed.

I'll take this as a win.

#TeamLibby