Today, like most days when my lunch is held in a brown paper sack on my desk, I find myself in Barnes & Noble for my lunch hour. Upon entering the store, I immediately feel a sense of relief that quickly goes to my head. I breathe in the smell of ink on paper and I inwardly swoon at the thought of so many stories in one large, shelved room.
Father's Day themed books still hold the first kiosk of bestsellers, followed by New Releases and Buy 2, Get 1 Free. The scent of freshly brewed coffee mingles in the air, but I'm not ready to forsake the words yet. There are beach books and romance novels. There are many new memoirs with bright, catchy titles. (These make me want to write my own.) There are children's books, one illustrating a Dylan song. (This one makes me want to travel & splurge on good concerts.) There are cookbooks. (These make me want to quit my job and live in the kitchen.) There are new history books and unsolicited biographies about the Obamas. There are tables for summer reading books-- I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, The Pearl, Lord of the Flies, Huck Finn, All Quiet on the Western Front. There is my favorite, the book that illuminated my desire to write-- The Giver.
I read The Giver in ninth grade, later than most I suppose; my 13 year old sister read it last year in seventh grade. But the point is that I loved it, mostly because of how Ms. Scott dissected it, the way she asked us questions, the way we questioned ourselves because of the way she questioned us. I wrote a paper about the book when our unit was complete and I printed it on yellow paper. And she loved it; Ms. Scott loved it. Her short note of encouragement told me I could write, I should write.
I have many secret files of my writing and I wonder sometimes how they will all fit together, or if they will at all. When I read the back cover of a book I always read "About the Author" first. If that person is from my state or went to my college or likes something random that I also enjoy, I suddenly find myself writing my own "About the Author" before I realize that maybe I should write my book first.
Can't have the cart before the horse, and all that.
Father's Day themed books still hold the first kiosk of bestsellers, followed by New Releases and Buy 2, Get 1 Free. The scent of freshly brewed coffee mingles in the air, but I'm not ready to forsake the words yet. There are beach books and romance novels. There are many new memoirs with bright, catchy titles. (These make me want to write my own.) There are children's books, one illustrating a Dylan song. (This one makes me want to travel & splurge on good concerts.) There are cookbooks. (These make me want to quit my job and live in the kitchen.) There are new history books and unsolicited biographies about the Obamas. There are tables for summer reading books-- I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, The Pearl, Lord of the Flies, Huck Finn, All Quiet on the Western Front. There is my favorite, the book that illuminated my desire to write-- The Giver.
I read The Giver in ninth grade, later than most I suppose; my 13 year old sister read it last year in seventh grade. But the point is that I loved it, mostly because of how Ms. Scott dissected it, the way she asked us questions, the way we questioned ourselves because of the way she questioned us. I wrote a paper about the book when our unit was complete and I printed it on yellow paper. And she loved it; Ms. Scott loved it. Her short note of encouragement told me I could write, I should write.
I have many secret files of my writing and I wonder sometimes how they will all fit together, or if they will at all. When I read the back cover of a book I always read "About the Author" first. If that person is from my state or went to my college or likes something random that I also enjoy, I suddenly find myself writing my own "About the Author" before I realize that maybe I should write my book first.
Can't have the cart before the horse, and all that.
1 comment:
How 'bout you just share a thing or two from your secret file here on the ol' bloggy? I think that would be just perfect...
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