I pulled my car into the parking lot and parked in the first open space I spotted. I turned off my car and took a moment to gather myself. With a sigh, I grabbed my satchel and climbed out of my car. As I strode away, I armed my car alarm and worked on arming myself. I consciously adjusted my posture; shoulders back, head high, stride long and confident. It was time to engage in battle.
I walked through the two sets of glass double doors and entered a large room filled with shelves containing thousands of books. The books came from all over the land and covered innumberable topics. I kept my gaze focused forward with an effort. I was on a mission.
I had made it halfway through the room, when I found myself coming to a stumbling halt. I could feel myself being pulled in multiple directions, silent voices calling out to me; teasing, taunting, begging, pleading.
“Do you need help?”
The young man’s voice broke through the silent clamor and I gratefully latched onto the reprieve. I gave him the list of titles I was searching for. He led me to a section of shelves that contained a number of the books I was seeking. He left me to peruse those shelves while he went in search of the remaining books on my list. The young clerk returned shortly, carrying a number of volumes. Most were quickly rejected, as they were written by the wrong authors. After we had determined that he had done all he could to assist, he left me to my own devices.
Immediately the silent voices returned. I looked at my current selection of books and groaned. They were all that I had asked for, but I had meant to choose just one book out of this selection. Just one. If that was not bad enough, I could feel the pull of the voices growing stronger. I resisted, yet still found myself amongst another set of shelves.
Suddenly, I was gripped by a new purpose. The number of books in my arms grew quickly, becoming cumbersome, but I could not stop. I gave in to the call of the silent voices and began pulling book after book off of the shelves. Once and awhile I was able to regain enough control to return one book to the shelves, or refuse another, but the number I turned away from was substantially fewer than the number of books that found a home in my arms.
I was finally able to force myself to stop. I forced my eyes away from the books on the shelves and made my legs carry me to the counter at the opposite side of the large room. I was almost pulled off course several times, but I managed to resist the insistent calls, cries, and entreaties from the silent voices.
I kept my eyes focused on the wall as I waited for a clerk to become available. With a feeling of relief, I handed over my burden of books to the clerk. She logged the volumes and I handed over the required sum that would release the books to my care. I walked out, feeling a mixture of relief, heady glee and anticipation, and the smallest twinge of guilt. One book. It was supposed to have been only one book.
The silent voices had won this battle, but I couldn’t bring myself to mourn their victory. I freely admit that I am an addict. And I am going to be your dealer.
Come, join me in this addiction. Here. See this volume? It contains a tale where there is no hero. Truly. You will dislike, maybe even despise, him, but you will also be drawn to him and his story. And this one- a story of a creature that just wanted to be accepted and loved. And this book here? A story of evil, pure evil, and the battle that good takes up against it. There is also this slender book, where expectations are turned upside down. Or this much thicker tome where doing what is right is not as simple as we would like to think it is. There is also this one, a tale of a simple boy with a simple trade that finds himself responsible for his world by accident. And so many more!
Come, join me in my addiction. You know you want to.
Work the Writing 