I’ve been a lurking around writer websites for a couple of years now. A post that seems to spring up consistently is how many books writers accumulate. I have to confess, I don’t have stacks of books sitting by my bed. Hell, I don’t even own a bookshelf.
I own a lot of reference books, on a variety of subjects, gardening, resume building, home repairs, auto repair (OK, those last two are Mr. K's) and of course, writing. But fiction? Not many. And what’s stacked in a corner of my closet are works of fiction that are just, eh, OK.
God knows isn’t not from a lack of trying. I walk through our local bookstore dropping books into my overflowing basket.
“You know you have like $300.00 worth of books.” Mr. K eyes the basket.
“No.” I frown. A book slides from the pile to the floor. “Can’t be.”
Mr. K picks up the book and set it back on a shelf. “How about you start with three?”
“Ten.” I counter.
“Five.”
“Deal.”
So it’s not from lack of trying. I think it boils down to two things. First, I’m thwarted by Mr. K’s insistence on keeping us out of bankruptcy. God love’m. Second, almost every good book I read, I end up passing along to someone else.
And by “passing along” I may mean shoving under someone’s nose and blabbering about what a great read it is and how the story pulls you in. In some cases, I think people take the books just to shut me up. But, hey, whatever works.
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