Book burnout

I’m pissed at COVID. I could write a book about all the reasons why I hate COVID, but we’ve all heard it before; we’ve seen the reports and read the news. There’s nothing I can tell you about what this pandemic has done that you haven’t already experienced. But what infuriates me the most is the stress, the stress that seeped its carnivorous tentacles into my secret corners of comfort.

When this all started, after life stopped short and sent us reeling into the proverbial windshield, I managed to rationalize some things. On some level, I was actually happy that we would be spending most of our time at home. I needed a reprieve from the speed of life. There was no more “you NEED to do this” or “you HAVE to be there.” 

Even though I was reading on a regular basis, it was in small increments on transit or before bed, I wasn’t reading as much as I wanted to, and my to-read list was growing at an exponential rate. The only bookish aggravation I had was wondering when I would have the time to read more. And now this unbelievable opportunity presented itself. Not to minimize the seriousness of the pandemic and the lockdown, but I’m pretty happy with myself that I was able to put a positive spin on it.

I really went all in on this. I took advantage of every free minute I had. I was going through books like a savage. My to-read pile was finally envious of my finished shelf. In a way, not only was reading swallowing the boredom, it was also providing an escape from reality and from the walls that seemed to be closing in ever so slowly. At some point, I realized I had to do some other stuff. Like everyone else, I was streaming movies, putting puzzles together and dabbling in some art. But my books were my apogee.

And then the bubble burst. The days and weeks were passing and the phrase “new normal” took centre stage, but when things finally seemed to be levelling off, something ominous was happening. The new habits of wearing a mask and standing in line to get into the store started to seem natural, but in truth, our hair was getting long (and grey), and our patience was wearing thin. The pressure was heavy. At best, we were tired; at worst, depressed. I realized I hadn’t read in a couple of days, and when I was reading, I was reading the same lines over and over. It was a good book, but I wasn’t feeling it. When I picked up a new book, as I often do, to “cleanse my palate,” it wasn’t working. It took a few days, but I finally faced it: I was experiencing “BOOK BURNOUT.”

Book burnout is the writer’s block for readers, and as I found out, it’s an actual thing. I took a deep dive into a Reddit thread on the topic. Turns out many have been experiencing the same symptoms as I have. Phrases like “I hit a wall” and “reading frustration” were popular, but the winner of the word race in the thread was “STRESS.” It should have been obvious: the burnout was a result of being overstressed. As readers, we often set goals for ourselves that seem attainable at any given time, but nothing is normal anymore. Stress has found its way into every aspect of our lives – including the enjoyable ones.

So I wasn’t reading as much, but I kept busy otherwise. My to-read list wasn’t growing, either, and my books and I broke up for a minute… I figured the worst thing I could do was stress over stressing, so I took a break. I wasn’t about to let the pressure win; my love of reading and books was too important to me. I’m well versed on how to deal with stress, so as Reddit suggested, I applied it to this situation:

I stepped away.

I changed genres.

I read in small increments.

But most importantly, I was forgiving of myself…

And sure enough, things fell back into place: I now read regularly, open newsletters and read articles about books. I visit Bookstagram and the Indigo website, and am back in love with my books and reading. 

Part of the definition of “burnout” is “fatigue, frustration, or apathy resulting from prolonged stress, overwork, or intense activity.” Any part of life in the last year can be classified the same way. I refuse to surrender to the saying “too much of a good thing,” and I’ll continue reading when I can, as much as I can, but I will be damned if I let it burden me again.

xo Maya B.

(Executive Editor, re:books)