If you follow me on Instagram, you know: I’ve spent ten hours a day for seven days trying to recover my life’s work.

Dropbox unlinked itself. My user folder disappeared. So did my desktop. Entire parts of my life—gone.

GUYS.

I found a single chapter of my novel in progress in a folder with a file structure like: priv/var/141814/235/c/b/sve/435.

This suggests that whatever is left is fragmented and scattered. Like dropping printed pages from a moving plane, then trying to find each one.

I cried more last week than I have in years. I canceled everything. Ignored everyone: emails, texts, phone calls, and appointments. Just tried to stay upright and get everything back. I still haven’t responded to many of you; I’m sorry! I will.

A digital life is fragile. It promises permanence, but things can vanish without notice. When my work disappeared, so did a record of who I’ve been.

So today’s post is an ode to what endures. To books, in their original form. These are just a handful of the ones that changed how I think. The ones that held when nothing else did.

What Survives the Years: 7 Books That Shaped My Thinking.

YOUTH

In 5th or 6th grade, my aunt Maggie suggested I read Tuck Everlasting by Natalie Babbitt. She never steered me wrong, and so I paid attention. That single reading experience taught me about writing, metaphors and how to use them best.

Winnie Foster is a sheltered ten-year-old when she comes across a boy drinking from a hidden fountain in the woods. Before she can drink from the fountain, the boy’s family kidnaps her. Back at their secluded home, the Tuck family reveals to Winnie that they are immortal, a discovery made after drinking from the hidden fountain. Jesse is not 17, but 104 (This is all from memory, so forgive me if the ages are inaccurate).

Each family member offers Winnie a look at the different aspects of their predicament: the horrors and the wonders of never dying. If given the chance, would you live forever?

This is the first book I remember reading that opened a new portal in my brain, leading me to consider questions of a philosophical nature and engage meaningfully with literature.

Here’s a 20-second sound byte about the book from an old show called Stacked Up. 

TEEN YEARS

As a tween and teen, I was very into art, and on weekends, I walked around Soho, popping in and out of art galleries, ending up as I did at Rizzoli bookstore (RIP the Soho store) to slowly pore over art books.

One of those weekends, in Rizzoli, I found a book unlike any I’d seen. First, it was a book of blank pages. Across the top of each was a prompt—each one struck me as philosophical. This was new to me, and the prompts themselves were creative and interesting.

I was desperate for that book, and committed the title and authors to memory, knowing I would never forget.

Here’s what I looked like around then.

Years passed, and now and then, I thought about the book. The blank pages, and the possibility of closing the gap between author and reader. But I never looked for it.

And then, decades later, talking about it with a friend, I decided to look it up.

Reader, I forgot the title.

And the authors.

With time, I knew it would come back to me.

It didn’t.

Every few years, I Googled it using random search terms to describe it, but nope—nothing.

Until this past year, I shook up my search terms and added “Sketchbook” to the mix.

BOOM.

I found it.

Upgrade to discover the name of that lost title, and the remaining books that changed and shaped me.

The free version of How to Live gives you a taste, but the heart of everything goes to those who support this work. Join us and always get the full story!

Unlock full access below.

Join How to Live