I've spent an enormous amount of time in the bookshop over the last two weeks.
I could lie. Pretend I got conned by the 3 for 2 sign in the window. But that would be a misrepresentation of information.
No I went in there with specific reasons. A nefarious plot that saw me rubbing my hands in glee.
1)I have a loyalty card that gives me points to buy more books. My last free book? A nursery rhyme collection for the goddaughter, my toddler student in the school of book/reading love.
2)I was looking for a specific book. Didn't see it though. Grrrr.
I can browse the shelves and time seems to slow. The spines whisper and vie for attention.
"Take us home, read us and love us. Let us inspire you."
I get the same feeling when I walk into the library. The stacks hold promised tomes which wait to be uncovered like the treasures of Egypt. Only without the rumours of curses.
A nightmare about a killer book monster coming after me would not be fun. A good story idea, but not fun. :)
What is it about the power of books? Words on a page inspire us, make us think and encourage us to be creative in subtle ways. They feed our imaginations and draw us into other worlds/situations.
No wonder we all strive to recreate the same feelings within our own manuscripts.
Books are like chocolate. They release the rush of endorphins you get from eating the treat but without the calories.
Even if they are just as addictive. :)