My book feedback loop
A swirl of clouds in the sky.
Marie Kondo’s Spark Joy introduced me to the concept that the books we keep in our homes can influence the course of our lives. The author writes:
The energy of book titles and the words inside them are very powerful. In Japan, we say that “words make our reality.” … What kind of books would you want in your bookcase to reflect the kind of person you aspire to be? If you choose which books to keep on that basis, you may find that the course of events in your life change dramatically.
While I didn’t pay much attention to titles when I was decluttering my bookshelf (as I pretty much donated all my books), the concept stayed with me. I became much more aware that what I read affects how I feel and my outlook on life. It’s part of the reason I wanted to write an uplifting book — in a sense, I was trying to manifest authenblissity by writing Authenblissity Reset. Since my big declutter, I’ve carefully selected a few of my favourite nonfiction titles to place on my bookshelf — these are books I plan to return to over and over again.
Even though I’m very selective about what I place on my bookshelves, I don't censor my curiosity. I'll still read any book on any subject matter — it’s just that I don’t buy many books anymore. I’m a mood reader so I tune in to myself when deciding what to read next. And what I’m typically drawn to are books that are rather dark.
This year, I’ve been drawn to fiction — in particular, sci-fi, mysteries, and thrillers. And in recent weeks, a realization surfaced with crystal clarity:
The type of book I read (fiction or nonfiction) directly influences my behaviour.
Here are the patterns I’ve noticed with fiction. For me:
Fiction is a form of entertainment. Even if the book contains themes that make me think about the real world and even if the story makes me feel deeply, I know at a fundamental level that it’s fiction. This sense of separation from the content means that even very dark books can be a source of entertainment for me. I don’t take the material too seriously. In general, fiction helps take my mind off things, whether these be current world events or more isolated problems that I’m experiencing in my own life.
Fiction is a form of productive procrastination. When I read fiction, I’m often fully immersed and I don’t want to do anything else. I’ve recently started recording book reviews as a way to reflect on what I’ve read — this also satisfies my desire to be productive as I end up with tangible creative outputs — but I don’t feel motivated to do anything beyond that. In general, fiction does not inspire me to action.
Nonfiction is a different story altogether. I read it more slowly because I don’t enjoy it nearly as much, but here’s the thing:
Nonfiction inspires me to act, to change, to create.
To be honest, I’ve been rather content in my current routine, even though it feels like I’m in a deep creative rut. I’ve been reading tons of fiction and enjoying myself immensely. But I inadvertently took a two-week break from fiction in May — and I took that time to finally finish reading Recovering from Emotionally Immature Parents, which I had started last summer.
Something strange happened when I picked up that book again. I felt a tiny spark of creativity after many months of being nestled comfortably in my creative rut. I’m not sure what it was about the book that catalyzed my forward movement, but I started drafting an outline for my next authenblissity challenge (spoiler alert: it’s going to be 31 Days to 2026).
Then I picked up fiction again, and my forward momentum stalled.
Nonfiction seems to enter a different part of my brain, and the information is processed very differently. I can feel nonfiction weave its words into the fabric of my being and it almost always sparks an idea for something I want to try in my own life.
There was a time in my life when I was almost exclusively reading nonfiction. Looking back, I was going through a period of great distress — I was unhappy with my job and I reached for self-help books as a lifeline. Things were murky and confusing for a long time but I had a sliver of hope. I entered a feedback loop where I sought out nonfiction, which encouraged me to change; when I changed, I wanted to share my own story. I quit my job, I launched my website, I wrote my book. I’m drawn to nonfiction when there’s something I want to change, something I want to create.
Now, I’m drawn to fiction. And I suspect the reason why is because I feel reasonably content and grounded on most days. There’s nothing to fix, nothing to strive for — so I’m reading books purely for entertainment. Yes, I still think of fiction as productive procrastination, but I feel better knowing that I’m not technically procrastinating on anything. There’s no work being left undone, no big projects I’m self-sabotaging.
This naturally led me to wonder, is there a way to rewire my brain so that fiction inspires me to act?
This immediately led to another thought: My default mental model has always been to look at situations through a lens of racking up life accomplishments. Books are “better” when they inspire me to act. But is that true? What if I practiced enjoying myself, while gently releasing my persistent need to be productive? Maybe I don’t need to turn to nonfiction to accomplish this. Maybe more fiction can be the cure.
This month’s reflective questions
Take a look at the books you have on your shelves. What stands out? What patterns do you notice about the books you bring into your home?
Next, think about your favourite types of books or genres. How do these affect your mood, your thoughts, your behaviour?
Bookishly yours,
