On Monday a writer friend of mine was in town, visiting from West Virgina. We were in the Masters program at USC together, and she has since moved and found herself a pretty kick ass job as a magazine editor. When she called to say she was coming to town, we both agreed it was a great excuse to have lunch and waste a few hours wondering the isles of our favorite books store.
We are both in love with Skylight Books on Vermont. It’s such a great bookstore. When she lived in town we used to go to readings there together. I don’t think I’ve been since she left, but I do go back to to shop – only these days I go to buy birthday presents, usually for small children. I put on my virtual blinders, fix my gaze on the cement floor, and charge straight back to the kid’s section, because as soon as I look up, it’s over.
I learned that one the hard way. I went there once with the little guy in tow, just as he was learning to walk, and I got sucked into the new fiction section. It was ugly. I was that mom – the one who lets her kid wander around pulling books off shelves. At one point, in a half-hearted attempt to keep him under control, I was holding the back of his pants with one hand and reading the back of new novel with the other, as he slid and whined on the floor, trying to get away. So yeah, since then, I go with a mission, and don’t allow myself to get distracted.
Except on Monday, I went in the middle of the day, sans kiddos, and just dove right in. I find the entire shop exceptional, but left to meander, I always end up in the new fiction section. And since I’m nearing the end of this draft of the novel, I took some time focus in on debut fiction. I found three different titles, all by first time novelists, that seem like they have the same sensibilities as my book. In the acknowledgements I culled the names of their agents and have added them to my list of people to investigate. I managed to buy just one, a book called “Wild Girls.” I can’t wait to start reading it.
The whole afternoon just reminded me why I write.
I love books. I just love them.
Did you know there’s a whole book on salt? It’s called “Salt: A World History.” I mean, really, is there nothing books can’t teach me? Worlds long past, worlds that will never exist, miniscule worlds that exist in the cracks of everyday life. Fiction, non-fiction, literary, trashy. I just love them.
It was a wonderful afternoon. I have to remember, the next time I’m feeling frustrated or tired, that an hour at Skylight can change my whole perspective and remind me why I do what I do.