Our writing group (http://bit.ly/GRRWG) has a book exchange every month. Books for Bucks. Contribute a book you no longer need (ha! like that’s likely in a group of writers) and buy someone else’s for a dollar. All money goes to the treasury.
Every month I send out a reminder and pick a handful of paperbacks to take along to the meeting. It’s like drawing blood from one of my children. It hurts.
Yes, I know I have too many books. Too many bookshelves. But the world is conspiring against us bookaholics. There’s always a library sale. And the bookstore’s discount table. And don’t even get me started about www.paperbackswap.com! Everywhere I go, there’s a book begging me to take it home.
I grit my teeth, think of DH’s disapproval (not really) and remember the towering TBR pile spread across the house. Sometimes, I’m successful in resisting the temptation. Sometimes, I’m not.
How do you resist the urge to “buy one more”?
There should be no such urge to curtail book shopping. Unless you’re putting your family in serious financial straights, the pursuit of great (and not-so-fantastic) literature should be applauded. What’s the alternative… hubcaps? Old reruns of MASH? Other than insisting that books from new or struggling authors should be purchased at retail to support the starving artists, I have never put any limits on my wife’s near-scandalous love of the romance genre. It’s a deal we struck almost two decades ago and the agreement works great. Even if the world ever goes electronic at the expense of books (she loves her eReader,too), I can be certain she’ll have insulated herself from the cold digital world with a sheaf (or ream?) of paper.