My challenge...should I choose to accept it

Currently I own about a thousand books, maybe more or less, with that many it is difficult to get an accurate account. One whole room in my house is devoted to housing my three bookshelves, all double rowed. Books are hidden throughout my house, in the bedroom, in the living room and a couple are even stashed in the kitchen. I never leave the house without a book stashed somewhere on my person and when I travel I bring a stash of emergency books in case the places I'm going aren't civilized to have books (they usually do and I just get a sore back from lugging around an extra 10 books). Last year I joined the digital revolution and now I can tote around 350 books on my tablet, yet I still bring books along just in case.

Books are my world and they always have been. I was an early reader (tends to happen when your mom is a librarian) and by Kindergarten I had to get a special sticker on my library card for those of us who were privileged enough to read above our level. Since then I've devoured books, somewhere on the average of 7-8 a week. For most of my life these books came from the library, but then I graduated college. After graduation I moved to a small rural town with a minuscule library and I was making my own money. It was a recipe for disaster (especially with the advent of Amazon) and slowly but surely in the two years since college my collection has grown at an alarming rate. My dear fiance (who takes a year to finish one book) happily tolerates my addiction, mostly owing to the fact that it's cheaper than other things I could be addicted to (and I tolerate his Lego obsession so we're even). However, I think he reached his breaking point in January of this year when we moved from an apartment to our first home. By the time he was ready to put his desk together and unpack all of his prized computer equipment my books had taken over the house (his stuff is still in boxes in the garage by the way).

My prized collection (This doesn't count the giant basket of books in the living room, the basket in the bedroom, the 350 or so books on my tablet etc.)

When I look at my bookshelves I'm saddened by the fact that I've only read about half the books on them. I constantly start books and don't finish them because I buy some new book that catches my fancy. As an author myself (I claim that distinction even though my computer hard drive is littered with half finished manuscripts and the only full book I've ever actually written is still is that tenuous stage of query and rejection) I know how hard these people worked to write these books and I feel guilty that I've never given them their due. I look at the books and I wonder what enticed me to buy them. Hopefully one day it will be my book on the bookstore shelves and I want to understand why people choose to buy a book (and why they leave it on their shelves for years unread).

I'm giving myself a challenge; I have to read every single book currently contained in my house from start to finish. Hopefully, through this project I'll learn more about the "why" behind my book purchases and why certain books are the most awesome things in the world while others inspire you to toss them in a wood chipper.