I’m sharing an unedited view of my bookshelves. More accurately, this is a shot of my main bookshelves as I have a few others scattered throughout my place. They’re old bookshelves–temporarily borrowed from my mom’s house to be returned some vague, far-off day in the future–that were shifted around my childhood home, from room to room, depending upon where my dad most recently wanted to store his ever-growing collection. (At one point, he took over the entire dining room, which was an explosion of his office, until we set up a wall of bookshelves in the basement and they all immigrated down two flights of stairs.) I’ve sort of divided my books into sections. There’s the magazine shelf with all my National Geographic (all, pretty much, unread at this point. Hence why I had to cancel my renewed subscription. I haven’t even read all the issues from the past year!), SCBWI newsletters, and Cicada issues. The bottom three shelves on the left bookcase are all the books that I haven’t yet read. Everything else it read. There’s a lot of YA books and ARCs from BEA, history books from college that I’m rather fond of (mostly memoirs), and all the novels, memoirs, and graphic novels from my literature classes (so glad I took that graphic novels class!!! I probably never would have picked up those sorts of books otherwise!!) scattered throughout my collection. About fifty of the books here are former library books–complete with the protective plastic covering and the sticker on the binding–that I rescued when my library dumped its collection so they could revamp as a “popular library” with lots of couches and lots less books. They were only between 25-50cents each. How could I refuse giving them a new home?