Stages of a Potential DNF

You take a break from the very uncompelling first chapter to check out Goodreads… is this a “make it through the first few chapters and it’ll pick up” kind of read?

Reviews are mixed, so you carry on. It was recommended to you, after all (by whom? You can’t remember, but if the unknown person brings it up again, you don’t want to be caught with nothing to say).

You read the same page three times and still can’t figure out who “he” is. Instead of flipping back to figure it out, you flip forward to see how many pages are left and start mentally calculating what your time is worth.

You’ve skimmed your way, by hook or by crook, to the midpoint. There were some lines that made you think perhaps there will be a twist, or a cliffhanger so steep that it will make you lock in.

You flip to the audiobook and turn the speed up to 2.5x. You might be doing laundry, dishes, paying bills—but you are also “reading”… right?

You give yourself a timeline: this book will be finished by the end of my son’s orthodontist appointment. You sit down and turn the pages so furiously you almost start a fire. People must think I’m of supreme intelligence, you think. What you aren’t thinking about is the book.

Your eye catches on something—a sheep? In the middle of the book? You didn’t realize there were farm animals involved in this city romance.

The last page arrives, and you assign some vague sentiment to the final line to justify the time you spent.

Your pen hovers over your reading log. Can you count this book with any integrity? What if someone asks you about it?

You think about the sheep.

You commit your answer to memory:
“Can you believe the appearance of that farm animal mid-book? What was the author thinking?”

You know this will be enough.

You write it down

You took the DN, out of DNF.

…which leaves you with an F. To be fair, that feels right.