My 2026 Reading Manifesto: What I’m Reading & Why It Matters

Theresa Wilson
Jan 2
8 min read

Every January, I find myself pausing before I set new reading plans — not to count books or make strict goals, but to reconnect with why I read in the first place. Reading has always been more than a hobby for me. It’s been a space to breathe, to grow, and to rediscover the version of myself that I’m proud of becoming. When I open a book, I feel that quiet sense of connection — that moment of escape where everything else fades and it’s just me and the story.

This year, I wanted to capture that feeling in something more intentional than a list of goals. A manifesto felt right. Goals can sometimes feel too rigid, too focused on numbers, while a manifesto is about purpose — about reading with heart and meaning.

If you’ve watched my December 21st video, you already know some of the themes behind this mindset: reading for enjoyment first, embracing my seasonal TBRs and readathons, tracking my reading creatively, being mindful about book buying, and celebrating the creative joy that books bring into my life. I also want to step into something new this year — exploring romantasy and finally diving into the Outlander and A Court of Thorns and Roses series.

This post also marks the beginning of a brand-new series for 2026 — Reading Between the Labels. Through this series, I’ll be diving deeper into my personal reading journey: how books shape my world, influence my creativity, and reflect the many ways reading continues to impact my life. It’s both cozy and empowering, a reminder that the stories we read can guide us closer to who we are and who we’re becoming.

Why Create a Reading Manifesto

Looking back on past reading “goals,” I realize how rigid they often felt. I would set ambitious targets, promising myself I would hit certain numbers or finish specific books, and when I didn’t, I would feel like I had somehow failed. The joy of reading — the very thing that drew me to books in the first place — sometimes got lost in the pressure to check off a list.

This year, I wanted something different. A reading manifesto feels like a promise to myself, a guide for the kind of reading experience I want rather than a list of accomplishments I feel I should reach. It’s about creating a framework that aligns with my values and the way I actually want to read — slow, intentional, and full of enjoyment.

For me, reading with intention isn’t about checking off daily pages or meeting arbitrary targets. It’s about picking up a book because I want to, letting myself get lost in the story, and allowing that quiet joy to remind me why reading has always mattered. It’s about the small moments — curling up in my reading nook, jotting mini reflections in my journal, or savoring a scene that makes me laugh or sigh. These moments are the heart of reading, and in 2026, I want to focus on them.

Reading has taught me many things over the years, but the most important lesson is that I don’t need to change myself to fit society’s expectations. I don’t need to chase numbers or trends. The manifesto is my way of embracing that truth — a way to honor my authentic reading self. It’s about making thoughtful choices, reflecting on the books I love, and approaching each story with a mindful curiosity. In essence, it’s my invitation to read the way reading was always meant to feel: meaningful, personal, and entirely my own.

What I’m Reading in 2026

In 2026, my reading focus will continue to revolve around romance — my go-to genre that always delivers the emotional connection I crave. But this year, I’m branching out a bit, exploring new tropes and subgenres while still embracing the ones I’ve loved for years. I want to dive into historical romance, a category I’ve been neglecting, and venture into romantasy, which I’ve been curious about for a while. At the same time, I’ll continue enjoying cozy romances, shifter romances, and dark romances — the kinds of stories that always feel like home to me.

Romance draws me in for so many reasons, but at its heart, it’s the emotional depth that keeps me hooked. The vulnerability of the characters, the second-chance love stories, enemies-to-lovers arcs — these narratives allow me to experience the connection, growth, and heartbreak I don’t always have in my own life. Reading romance is my way of vicariously living through characters who embody the experiences I long to feel, while still letting me stay fully immersed in the comfort of a good story.

I’m particularly excited for a few upcoming releases in 2026. Lana Ferguson continues to be an author I adore, and Amy Daws and Elsie Silver are always high on my radar. I also have a few special edition releases I’m looking forward to — little treasures that make the reading experience feel extra special.

These reading choices reflect my manifesto perfectly. Each book I pick up is chosen for the joy it brings, the connection it fosters, and the way it encourages me to read intentionally. It’s not about hitting a number or rushing through a list — it’s about savoring every story and letting it enrich my reading life.

Creativity will also play a role in how I approach these books. My reading journal will continue to be a space for mini reviews and reflections, helping me engage with each story thoughtfully. Seasonal TBRs will serve as inspiration rather than obligation, offering options that fit the mood of the season while still giving me the freedom to choose what truly sparks joy. Reading in 2026 is about pleasure, reflection, and connection — and these books will be my companions on that journey.

Why It Matters

Reading intentionally and joyfully doesn’t just shape my time with books — it ripples into the rest of my life. Creatively, it inspires me to make, journal, and plan in ways that deepen my love for reading. But it also affects my mindset. Immersing myself in a story, connecting with characters who face challenges far beyond my own, gives me perspective. It’s a quiet reminder that even on tough days, my life is still full of the little joys and comforts that I sometimes overlook. Books have a way of grounding me, of letting me reflect on my own experiences through the lens of someone else’s story.

Reflection plays a central role in this process. My reading journal — with its mini reviews and notes — isn’t just a log of what I’ve read; it’s a tangible map of my connection to each story. It shows me what I loved, what didn’t work, and why. This year, I want to document the books I choose and the reasons I’m drawn to them, building a thoughtful record of my reading journey that I can return to whenever I need to reconnect with the joy behind it. These reflections remind me that every book carries meaning beyond the pages — and every choice I make as a reader matters.

I hope that sharing this manifesto might encourage others to rethink their approach to reading. Maybe rigid goals aren’t for everyone. Perhaps, like me, some readers would benefit from a manifesto — a gentler, more intentional way to frame a reading year, focused on connection, creativity, and joy rather than numbers or pressure.

Above all, this manifesto is about authenticity. It’s about embracing the kinds of books I love — romance in all its forms, from cozy to dark, historical to romantasy — without shame or apology. There’s no need to hide behind trends or stigma; I want to celebrate what excites me, what moves me, and what sparks my imagination. And I hope that by sharing this, I can inspire others to embrace their own tastes with the same openness and courage.

Reading this way is personal, yes, but it’s also empowering. It’s a reminder that our reading lives are ours to shape, and that a manifesto — one that reflects who we truly are — can make the journey more meaningful, reflective, and, most importantly, joyful.

What I Choose for My Reading Heart

I choose books that make me feel deeply.
I choose stories that let me rest and escape.
I will read for the joy of the experience, not the numbers on a list.
I choose to embrace romance in all its forms — cozy, dark, historical, fantastical — without shame or apology.
I will savor each season with stories that match its mood, letting autumn bring coziness and winter bring warmth.
I choose love stories that let me feel the heartaches, the hope, and the healing right alongside the characters.
I will explore new tropes and subgenres, stepping beyond my comfort while staying rooted in what I love.
I choose to journal my thoughts and feelings, leaving a map of my reading journey to revisit whenever I need it.
I will pick books intentionally, guided by what sparks curiosity and joy, not by expectation or pressure.
I choose to celebrate every story that moves me, whether it makes me laugh, cry, or simply sigh with contentment.
I will give myself permission to abandon a book that no longer resonates, trusting my intuition and time.
I choose to let reading be a form of self-care, a gentle pause in the rhythm of life.
I will reflect on the stories I love, learning from their triumphs and struggles.
I choose books that inspire creativity, whether through journaling, planning, or quiet contemplation.
I will approach reading with curiosity, openness, and a willingness to feel.
I choose to honor my authentic reading self, embracing the books, genres, and moments that make my heart happy.

Choosing a Reading Year That Feels Like You

Stepping into 2026 with this manifesto feels like stepping into a softer, more intentional version of my reading life. It’s a reminder that books are not a checklist or a competition — they’re a relationship. A place to return to. A way of reconnecting with the parts of myself that I sometimes lose track of.

I’ve spent years treating reading goals like something I could fail, but a manifesto lets me treat reading like something I can grow inside of. Something I can shape gently, without rigidity or pressure. Something I can breathe with.

My hope, in sharing this, is not to tell anyone how to structure their reading year — but simply to show that there are other ways to approach it. Ways that feel softer. Kinder. More human. If you’ve felt weighed down by goals or the pressure to keep up, maybe giving yourself a manifesto — a little guide for your reading heart — might bring you the same sense of freedom it brings me.

However you choose to read this year, I hope it brings you joy. I hope it brings you rest. I hope it brings you stories that make your heart feel full, seen, or simply comforted. And above all, I hope you choose a reading life that feels like you — no explanations, no apologies, just the quiet truth of what you love.

If you’re stepping into 2026 with your own intention-filled reading plans, I’d love to hear from you. What intentions, promises, or quiet truths are shaping your reading life this year? Share them in the comments below or send me a message — I always love hearing how other readers nurture their joy.

And as this series unfolds through 2026, I’ll be taking a deeper dive into one of my favorite topics: the romance tropes I never get tired of — and why they stay with me long after the last page.

Here’s to a year of intentional pages, cozy moments, and books that feel like home.