Last week I wrote about atmosphere and finding my writing mojo by heading to the library. While I was at the library I wandered into the new release section and stumbled upon my book. And it was a wonderful moment. A little thing, really, to have my book at my local library. But it was so amazing to me at the same time.
The library is interwoven with memories of my childhood. Going each day with my mother and brother to pick out a new stack of books. Falling in love with Laura Ingalls Wilder and Nancy Drew. And as I got older, heading to the library to get the next cozy mystery on the shelf. As an adult that addiction to mysteries expanded into suspense books as well and finally in the last few years I have found romances.
I still love going to the library. It’s a place for me to escape and pick up a book to meet new people and new worlds and solve new mysteries and watch new loves form. It is one of the reasons I became a writer. Because I wanted to share my worlds with people. I wanted to bring a smile to someone’s face and offer them a puzzle to solve. To offer characters that could become friends.
The idea of someone picking up my book, and reading the back cover, and tucking it under their arm to take home makes me smile. And so the little things DO count. I would have never thought as a child that one day I would see a book that I had written on a library shelf. But I did. And it makes me ridiculously happy.