By genre: You have a naturally loud speaking voice. You tip generously. You prefer fruity gum.

Alphabetically, by title: You have a bunch of diaries you abandoned after three days. You love it when people do choreographed dances at wedding receptions. You have seven people you refer to as your “best friend.”

Alphabetically, by author last name: You have a signature dish you like to cook. You own a pair of skis. You are vigilant about checking yourself for melanomas.

Alphabetically, by author first name: You’ve thrown a birthday party for an animal. You have a Pinterest board just for inspirational sayings and images. You lose your keys all the time.

By color of spine: You don’t know if vaping is for tobacco or marijuana or both, and at this point, you’re too afraid to ask. You text your mom a lot. You have an item of clothing you only wear on your birthday.

Separated into what you’ve read and what you haven’t: You keep in touch with friends from middle school. You only do hot yoga. You listen to Rachel Maddow’s podcast every morning, but you’ve never voted in a midterm election.

By size: You buy really expensive pens. You throw out socks when you can’t find their match. You think the moon landing was faked, but it’s not like the lie is hurting anyone.

Chronologically, by year of publication: You use a handkerchief. You know a little bit of American Sign Language. You have a record player, but no records.

Chronologically, by year of purchase: You keep all your movie ticket stubs. You give everyone a nickname. You have a record collection, but not a record player.

Chronologically, by year the story takes place: You went through a period of believing you could communicate with birds. You write fan fiction under a pseudonym. You know all the names of different kinds of hats.

No order: Your parents are still together. You say you’re not on social media, but you’re on Instagram. You’re never the first one to say “I love you.”

They’re all on your Kindle: You swear a lot and never apologize for it. You go to therapy twice a week. You’re a few months behind on alimony payments.

With spines facing the wall, to maintain neutral decor: You hate books.