Addicted
Confessions of a bookoholic
by cclpadJanuary 17, 2005
Hi. My name is Carrie. I’m an addict. It started innocently enough. When I was six years old, I found an endless supply at the local library. The fact that I lived next door made it easy to get a fix whenever I wanted. After we moved, I had to plan my
sprees but my habit was manageable.
As an adult, limited disposable income kept me sane. I chose my book purchases carefully. But I knew a problem was developing when checking out at Costco a couple of years ago. I bought 3 books and a bag of bagels.
“Doing some reading this weekend?” the checker asked. He was just making conversation, but I felt compelled to explain.
“Well, one is a gift, one I’ve already read, but I wanted my own copy. And the third….” My voice trailed off. He didn’t care. But I realized my need to rationalize and explain was a danger sign.
A friend I'll call "Madge" (name changed in case she reads this and my source dries up) subscribes to a mystery book club and passes the books to me after reading them. For a time, I was able to keep up with Madge’s gifts and my own acquisitions. But soon I had a stack of three or four volumes by my bedside, just waiting to be read.
By shopping at assorted bookstores (both chains and independents – I don’t discriminate) I managed to keep my addiction a secret. No one knew exactly how many books I was buying. Between Madge, the library, and shopping, the stack by my bed grew to ten or twelve. Occasionally I could get it down to half a dozen.
Then I attended the mystery convention, Bouchercon . I came home with fifteen new books. I tried to tell myself that it would be okay, I could handle it. I could get by with three hours sleep. The boss wouldn’t object to me reading on business time. If I could convince my dentist that I needed some root canals, I’d be able to read in the chair.
But it was a lie. I couldn’t keep up anymore. When I attended another mystery convention, Left Coast Crime , I was determined to bring no more new books into my home. Yeah, right. I did manage to buy only three books there, and I gave two of them away. But after the freebies, I still came home with a dozen new paperbacks and a couple of the hard stuff.
My husband and I had a stressful spring and early summer. We learned that dinner out is a good antidote when life overwhelms. I also discovered that a stop at Barnes and Noble after dinner will help me forget my problems.
When on vacation recently, I found a discount outlet. I bought four books. One is for an upcoming meeting of a book club. The others are new titles by authors I enjoy and I would probably buy them anyway, but they were so cheap, I was saving money in the long run. The storeowner was about to pay me to take them off his hands.
My bedside stack is now five stacks, each wobbling with fifteen or more books. As a BookCrosser, I’ve found a wonderful way to pass on the abundance of riches, but of course I have to read them before I can release them. And they’re piling up faster than I can read them. I’m out of control. I need help.
Hi, my name is Carrie and I’m addicted to books.
As an adult, limited disposable income kept me sane. I chose my book purchases carefully. But I knew a problem was developing when checking out at Costco a couple of years ago. I bought 3 books and a bag of bagels.
“Doing some reading this weekend?” the checker asked. He was just making conversation, but I felt compelled to explain.
“Well, one is a gift, one I’ve already read, but I wanted my own copy. And the third….” My voice trailed off. He didn’t care. But I realized my need to rationalize and explain was a danger sign.
A friend I'll call "Madge" (name changed in case she reads this and my source dries up) subscribes to a mystery book club and passes the books to me after reading them. For a time, I was able to keep up with Madge’s gifts and my own acquisitions. But soon I had a stack of three or four volumes by my bedside, just waiting to be read.
By shopping at assorted bookstores (both chains and independents – I don’t discriminate) I managed to keep my addiction a secret. No one knew exactly how many books I was buying. Between Madge, the library, and shopping, the stack by my bed grew to ten or twelve. Occasionally I could get it down to half a dozen.
Then I attended the mystery convention, Bouchercon . I came home with fifteen new books. I tried to tell myself that it would be okay, I could handle it. I could get by with three hours sleep. The boss wouldn’t object to me reading on business time. If I could convince my dentist that I needed some root canals, I’d be able to read in the chair.
But it was a lie. I couldn’t keep up anymore. When I attended another mystery convention, Left Coast Crime , I was determined to bring no more new books into my home. Yeah, right. I did manage to buy only three books there, and I gave two of them away. But after the freebies, I still came home with a dozen new paperbacks and a couple of the hard stuff.
My husband and I had a stressful spring and early summer. We learned that dinner out is a good antidote when life overwhelms. I also discovered that a stop at Barnes and Noble after dinner will help me forget my problems.
When on vacation recently, I found a discount outlet. I bought four books. One is for an upcoming meeting of a book club. The others are new titles by authors I enjoy and I would probably buy them anyway, but they were so cheap, I was saving money in the long run. The storeowner was about to pay me to take them off his hands.
My bedside stack is now five stacks, each wobbling with fifteen or more books. As a BookCrosser, I’ve found a wonderful way to pass on the abundance of riches, but of course I have to read them before I can release them. And they’re piling up faster than I can read them. I’m out of control. I need help.
Hi, my name is Carrie and I’m addicted to books.
