Today’s prompt is Bookmark Flex, which is apparently the literary equivalent of showing off your trophy case.
Some writers have entire collections—beautiful bookmarks from bookstores, conventions, Kickstarter campaigns, special editions, signed copies, handmade leather ones, metal engraved ones, tassels, ribbons… the whole glorious library of page-saving artifacts.
Then there’s me.
My bookmark collection currently consists of one.
Not one drawer.
Not one stack.
One bookmark.
And to be fair, it’s not even physical. It’s a digital bookmark from Angela B. Chrysler from her book Broken. That’s the entirety of my bookmark flex.
Which means if bookmarks were a form of literary currency, I’d basically be walking into the bookstore with loose change and a button I found in the couch.
But here’s the funny thing about bookmarks—they’re tiny artifacts of reading lives. Each one usually comes with a story. A bookstore you visited. A convention you attended. An author you met. A moment where a book mattered enough that you wanted something permanent to hold your place.
My system is… less elegant.
Receipts.
Random paper scraps.
Occasionally a sticky note that wandered over from my desk.
Once, I’m pretty sure I used a grocery list.
It’s not glamorous, but it works.
Bookmarks, when you think about it, are a strange metaphor for writing itself. They mark a place in a story where you had to pause—but they also promise that you’ll come back and continue the journey.
So maybe my lack of bookmarks just means I’m still building that collection.
Or maybe it means I should stop using junk mail and coffee receipts to hold my place in books.
Either way, I clearly need to step up my bookmark game.
Until then, my official Bookmark Flex remains proudly minimal.
One digital bookmark.
Legendary stuff.