A while back, I started a book club with two of my best friends. We all live in different states, but we’re connected through a mutual love of reading (and the occasional trash TV). We figured a club would be a fun way to stay in touch and swap thoughts on whatever we were reading. So we picked a book, hopped on Snapchat video, and made it official.
It didn’t go quite how I pictured it.
The first thing I realized? Reading pace matters. I read five to ten books a month, depending on the season and how much coffee I’ve had. One of my friends was lucky to finish one book in that same stretch. No shade at all — life’s busy — but by the time we got around to discussing our pick, I’d read six other books and moved on emotionally.
Then there was the genre problem, which actually wasn’t about genre at all. I read across the board: thrillers, memoirs, historical fiction, whatever. But I’m a mood reader. If I’m not feeling a book — no matter how good or well-reviewed — it becomes a grind. That’s where the book club started to feel limiting. I wasn’t stuck because of what we were reading. I was stuck because my brain wasn’t in the right place to want that book right then.
And if you’ve ever tried to push through a book when you’re not feeling it, you know it’s brutal. Especially when you’re staring at a stack of other books that are basically calling your name.
Our actual conversations weren’t bad, just… thin. Without a few guiding questions or shared energy around the story, we ended up saying stuff like, “I liked it,” or “Not really my thing,” and then awkwardly pivoting to life updates. It made me realize we’re all different kinds of readers — and while that’s cool in theory, it didn’t always click in practice.
Eventually, I had the lightbulb moment: we don’t need a book to stay connected. We can just call each other and talk like normal people. Meanwhile, I can keep tearing through books on my own schedule, chasing whatever story I’m in the mood for.
The book club fizzled out. But honestly? I’m not mad about it. It reminded me of something simple — that reading doesn’t have to be a shared experience to matter. And sometimes, the best part of a book is keeping it all to yourself until you’re actually ready to talk about it.
Drifting with Dalton 
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