Journal Treasures / Let My Shadow Speak

I’d like to share something I wrote in one of my journals, just to let you know how the mind of at least one writer works.

This entry was written on January 1, 2003, two years into the writing of my first novel, Between Will and Surrender.

I must do more writing!

All this revising and reading of “how to” books gives me no practice in getting new words and original thoughts on paper.  Shame on me.  It’s time to free my right brain from my left brain.  It’s time to let my shadow speak.

To this I add:  To practice is to practice is to practice is to practice is to practice is to practice is to practice.Show up on the page, run the scales, execute the movement, write for the experience of it.

Don’t judge, don’t analyze, don’t criticize.  Trust your pen.

 Reeves says to grab the tail of the first image that sails into my mind.

Borders!

I spend so much time there, picking up book after book, feeling each one’s weight and texture, marveling at the creative covers and internal layouts, envying the prolific authors (I try not to, but can’t help it.)

I love the smell of coffee and the pastries heating in the microwave.  I love the sound of the espresso machine, whirring, sputtering, and then winding down when its work is done.

Background music, conversations, cash registers, all blend together into an ambiance I savor.  Nothing like a warm cup of coffee, a notebook, a pen, and a new book.

Books speak to me.  I want to buy them all.  Usually, I’m able to limit myself to just one, rationalizing that education is worth the cost.  Better to spend it here than at the doctor’s, is one of my favorite rationals.  Its soothes my conscience every time.

I slip into Borders between errands and after church on Sundays.  Sometimes my mother joins me.  At first she was reluctant, wondering how people could occupy themselves in a bookstore for so long.  But now she loves it.  She can rest her legs, have a cup of coffee, and delve into the world of books.  Her only complaint, she, too, wants to buy them all.

I’m grateful Borders has come to our town.

I’ll try to remember that when I’m stuck in traffic.

Now, eight years later, I still feel the same about Borders.

I meet my critique partners there twice a month.  We spend hours reviewing each other’s work, talking about writing–drinking coffee.

I buy books on craft.

I buy books written by authors who inspire me.

Without Borders, I wouldn’t have completed writing four novels.

Without Borders, I would have given up long ago.

Borders helps my shadow speak.

My gratitude to Borders for helping my shadow speak, made it particularly hard for me to read in yesterday’s Sacramento Bee an article by Maria Panaritis of the Philadelphia Inquirer called “Booksellers’ digital turn leaves Borders behind.”

 In it Maria talks about how Borders has been “battered by the radical shift of consumers to purchasing and reading digital books over the Internet.”

 I have nothing against electronic book-reading tablets and online stores for sellng e-books.  They obviously fulfill a need and are here to stay.

 But where else can I find a place to write, meet with friends, and enjoy a cup of coffee, PLUS leaf through and BUY a paperbound book other than my local Borders?  Not over the Internet.

 Can Borders save itself?

Only time will tell.

As always, thanks for stopping by,