I don’t get to the library as much as I used to. A few times a month, usually with my son to check out a Minecraft Zombie book or browse the New Arrivals section.
But it’s nice to know the place is there. It's easy to take the library for granted. Even when it’s been there for me through it all.
In the more chaotic times of my life, the library has been my refuge. When I was between homes, trying to figure out my way into adulthood, the library sat with it’s rows and rows of books and magazines and newspapers. It offered no judgement, only large, arched windows with warm sunlight streaming onto its comfy seats. I can’t say how many books I read there, some without checking out, just plucking it off the shelf each day where I found it waiting for me.
On Tuesday and Thursday nights sometimes I’d sit there as the night shined on those windows. Maybe reading the classics, or not. Maybe just flipping through a magazine, hopping on a computer back in my Yahoo Mail days. There’s something about the place that I love. The guy bobbing his head silently to his headphones. The occasional cough, the laughter, the slap of hands as two old friends find each other in the aisles.
The library, I’m telling you.
So when I signed a book contract early last year, of course I imagined the book signings, the sales, the… movie rights. Hey, I was dreaming big. But I also thought about placing my book in the local library.
It doesn’t sound like much, but hey, this is my dream, my book.
And the other day it finally happened.
Back before Covid, I’d been in contact with a librarian about a local author event. But events aside, what I really wanted was simply place my hard work on the shelves inside of the building I’ve spent so many hours inside. But then the library closed. Everything closed.
And so I waited.
Recently, the library re-opened, sort of, and I reached out to the supervisor again. This time I was more confident. I'm trying to be more confident. I’ve only recently become comfortable with the author tag (at bookstores or libraries, anywhere, really, I still feel like someone's going to point at me and yell, "Fraud!" when I tell them I'm an author. But that's for another post.)
Anyway, I asked abut getting my books in there. And this time she said they would love to place my books in the library.
So we did it. And now they’re inside that building with all those words, memories, experiences, and knowledge. I think back to my teenage years, and it’s sort of hard to believe.
I mean, who would have thought?