I’ve stopped collecting books for the person I imagine I might become someday. No one can read everything anymore—not with thousands of new books appearing every day and old books never truly disappearing. So I’m changing the way I build my library: only the books I want to read now, or very soon. No more guilt-inducing digital hoards. Just books that are actually mine because I’ve read them.
Most people think reading ebooks on a phone is impossible: the screen is too small, there isn’t enough text, and you have to keep swiping. But once you discover the trick that makes page-turning effortless, phone reading becomes not just easy, but addictive. Here’s why your entire library belongs in your pocket.
Ever sit down with a book thinking you’ll read just one chapter before bed… and suddenly it’s 2:03 a.m.? Mark Posey confesses why those “just one more chapter” moments are sometimes a little bit deliberate—and why writers secretly love hearing about them.
For years, I assumed my growing frustration with certain fantasy novels was a personal failing—shorter attention span, impatience, age. It turns out it wasn’t me at all. Fantasy has quietly split into two different kinds of books doing two very different things: story-first fiction and immersion-first fiction. Neither is wrong—but when you don’t know which one you’re reading, disappointment is almost guaranteed. This post is about naming that divide, understanding where it came from, and giving readers permission to stop blaming themselves when a “perfectly good” book just doesn’t work for them.
There are two kinds of readers in the world.
The kind who says, “Just one more chapter,” and resurfaces hours later dehydrated and emotionally compromised.
And the kind who prefers the slow burn—one episode a week, time to speculate, time to argue, time to savor.
The internet insists one of these is correct.
They’re wrong.
This isn’t a format war. It’s a control issue—and Credible Threat is about to give both camps exactly what they want.
It’s January, which means the internet is once again filled with people vowing to become Better Versions of Themselves.
More exercise.
Fewer carbs.
A spiritual awakening achieved through color-coded planners.
As an author, I feel it is my civic duty to offer an alternative set of New Year’s resolutions—specifically for readers. These are resolutions you can feel good about and abandon guilt-free by February.
