For a long time, I participated in the Goodreads book challenge, a digital ritual where you commit to a specific number of books to read over the course of a year. Initially, it seemed like a harmless way to track my progress and stay motivated. However, over time, the experience transformed from a rewarding hobby into something that felt more like a demanding second job. Instead of finding solace in the pages of a new story, I started feeling an underlying sense of anxiety every time I looked at my progress bar. The quantitative tracker, meant to encourage, began to exert an unhealthy pressure, making me feel that my value as a reader was tied strictly to my output rather than my engagement with the material.

The Numbers Trap 

I used to use Goodreads’ book challenge where you set a goal for yourself for how many books you will read that year. One year I was planning on writing a middle grade book so I read a lot of popular and award winning middle school writers. These books were not long, so I read a lot that year, even manga, and I easily surpassed my goal by reading over 100 titles.

The thrill of that triple-digit achievement set a high bar, making me feel successful as a reader and a writer. However, the following year shifted focus significantly. I delved into epic fantasy novels, including The Wheel of Time, Game of Thrones, and rereads of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings. Because these books are considerably longer and denser, my total book count naturally dropped. Despite the depth of the stories, the visual progress bar on Goodreads moved slower, triggering a deep sense of anxiety and a “what-if” mindset about my productivity. I found myself constantly checking my goal, feeling bad because I wasn’t on track to beat my previous year’s record. It felt as though the numbers were starting to matter more than the narratives themselves.

The Weight of the Epics

The following year, my reading habits underwent a significant transformation as I delved deep into the realm of epic fantasy. I immersed myself in sprawling series like The Wheel of Time and A Song of Ice and Fire (Game of Thrones), and took the time to revisit the foundations of the genre by rereading The Hobbit and the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy.

While I remain committed to my goal of writing middle grade novels, I took to heart the common wisdom that becoming a better writer requires being an omnivorous reader. However, I quickly discovered that fantasy epics demand a much higher time investment than middle grade books. For perspective, Stephen King’s The Stand exceeds 900 pages, and The Eye of the World—the first volume of The Wheel of Time—runs nearly 800 pages.

Because these massive volumes are considerably longer than the books I read previously, the quantity of titles I completed naturally decreased. This discrepancy triggered my anxiety; I felt a mounting pressure to read more, yet there simply weren’t enough hours in the day to maintain my former pace. I found myself constantly checking my reading goal and feeling a sense of failure because I wasn’t on track to surpass my record from the previous year. This shift in reading material forced me to realize that a simple book count was no longer a fair or accurate reflection of my intellectual engagement or my progress as a growing writer.

The Breaking Point

The pressure finally reached a breaking point when I had to be honest with myself about the profound anxiety these metrics were causing. Reading is meant to be a sanctuary and a source of inspiration, but the Goodreads tracker began to feel like a demanding boss, constantly reminding me how far behind schedule I was in my own personal life. When a beloved hobby starts feeling like an obligation or a race you are destined to lose, it strips away the magic of the narratives and the joy of discovery.

I realized that every automated notification informing me I was “five books behind” felt like a personal failure, a stinging critique of my productivity rather than a reflection of the reality of my reading life. In truth, that “slowness” was actually a sign of deep engagement with complex, lengthy epics—massive volumes like Stephen King’s The Stand, which exceeds 900 pages, or The Eye of the World, which runs nearly 800. By letting a simple number dictate my success, I was ignoring the growth and craftsmanship I was absorbing from these sprawling masterpieces.

The Contentment of “Goal-Free” Reading

Ultimately, I realized that the numbers were hindering my connection to literature, so I deleted my reading goal entirely. This simple act felt incredibly freeing, lifting a weight I hadn’t fully acknowledged until it was gone. I still value the community aspects of the platform, so I continue to use Goodreads to share my current reads with friends and maintain my own professional page as a writer, but without the shadow of a quantitative tracker.

My advice is to never let reading transform into a chore or a second job; it is a hobby meant to be savored and enjoyed on your own terms. Instead of chasing metrics, focus on the qualitative benefits: read alongside friends, engage in deep discussions about books, and simply have fun. By removing the pressure of the progress bar, you allow yourself the mental space to truly learn and grow through the stories you encounter.

 

More Works by Nancy Ann Creed

https://books2read.com/u/m25Ygd