Opening the Shelf
I think about the future — a lot. I always have, even as a young boy.
About five months ago, I decided to start putting more of that thinking where other people could see it.
I was home with our dog, Dirk, while my wife and daughter were out celebrating their bond and friendship. I had been thinking about building a personal website for a long time. That day, I started with Anthropic’s Claude.
Of course, a website needs something to share.
So I wrote There is No Lifeguard, my first essay for the site. It was an unguarded conversation about what was on my mind, and a commitment to keep going. To put the work in. To try to make this new me a habit.
Now, I’m opening another part of my life that I’ve mostly kept private: my bookshelves.
The Shelf was part of the plan from the beginning. It holds my reading record, one shelf per year, with links connecting some of those books to my essays.
But the story behind those shelves starts long before the website. I had to learn to read.
I didn’t discover my dyslexia, or how severe it was, until my early twenties, when a team of professionals assessed my reading speed and comprehension at mid-elementary-school levels.
That was tough to hear. But I knew. I had spent my life working around it, developing other ways to understand what was happening and get by.
I remember asking the experts, “What now?”
As I remember it, one of them spoke softly: “Well, you should read as much as you can stand it.”
The next morning, I picked up a New International Version of the Bible. I read the five-page preface, then the first chapter of Genesis.
Someone had given me the Bible a few weeks earlier, hoping to convert me to Christianity. Frankly, it was the only book in my apartment.
So I read it all.
Then I read it again.
More on that some other time.
As I read more books and worked through books and courses about reading, things began to change. I spent less time backtracking. I began to read for longer stretches, with more pleasure.
In 2013, I joined Goodreads and began keeping a private record. Later, I set annual goals to suit my Type A personality.
Today, I read one to three hours almost every day. It is the first thing I do and the last thing I do. Sometimes I wake earlier than planned because I can’t wait to read.
Now that record is public: 831 books read, ten underway, and 1,300 waiting. Apparently, I have plans.
On the Shelf, you can browse by year, pick a book, and see my rating. Blue marks identify books with connections to my essays. Some are named in the writing. Others helped shape the thinking behind it. The links let you follow those connections.
Opening these shelves is also another step in a collaboration that has helped me grow more comfortable writing. I have always been able to tell stories aloud. Putting them on the page is where I’m gaining confidence.
I’ve worked with ChatGPT since the first essay. Today, Astra from OpenAI helps me develop and edit stories. Claude, from Anthropic, helps me in two separate projects: My Muse, where we explore and challenge ideas, and My Build project, where we work on the site and other code requirements. Those two Claude roles use the same model with different context and instructions.
They have become important collaborators. I bring the experiences, questions, and rough drafts. We work through structure, arguments, and language. I make the final edits and decide what I’m willing to publish under my name. I explain more in How I make this.
Over these first months, I’ve been experimenting with writing, building, and figuring out distribution. Now I’m ready to invite more readers into the work. I’m committed to bringing my most honest thinking, being open about what shapes it, and honoring your time with well-researched insights you might apply to your own life.
The Shelf is open. Have a look. I’d love to hear what you find.
Earlier this year I read a first edition of Lonesome Dove, a gift from my wife.
Before making the Shelf public yesterday, I showed it to her and pointed out her gift.
Her enthusiasm caught me emotionally. She met me when I was still struggling to read, and she committed to helping me keep practicing. She had been a reader since childhood.
Her reaction to the Shelf: “That is really cool.” Then she paused and offered, “I am really so proud of you.”
To which I choked back, “Thank you. I am proud of me too.”
On process and disclosure: How I make this →