Yay for The Library!

Guess what I rediscovered. All the great benefits of THE LIBRARY! Oh, don’t get me wrong. I regularly visit my local library. I am not new to the library. As a voracious reader with limited income, it has become my alternate bookstore. I have tons of books and limited room for more. Therefore, I am selective about what occupies space on my shelves. If I read a book and find myself returning to its pages several times before its due date, I will put it on my list of books to buy. If it doesn’t hold my attention by chapter three, I return it to the library unfinished. I am brutal with my reviews and expect no less from my readers. Tear my work apart and make me better.

SO, HOW DID I REDISCOVER THE LIBRARY?

I am a professional procrastinator. I find things to keep me off task. My office is junky—I must clean it to write. My Wigs need styling. I must wash and style ALL of them. I need to organize my spice drawer. Check the news. Find a new purple shirt. Which lipstick will I wear with that new purple shirt? See a thousand things I must do before pressing pen to paper.

My home, my life, has a thousand distractions to keep me from the blank pages that are calling me. So, on my weekly visit to pick up another stack of books, which I order and place on hold on the library website—nothing like another form of online shopping—it struck me that I could use the library as a place to write. It’s quiet. I could leave my tablet at home and use good old pen and paper. Pen and paper worked before.

So, I load up my pencil case, my favorite books on writing, a lot of paper, and my cell phone (I do not play games or read the news on my phone. I’m old. If the screen isn’t 12 inches, I cannot see the words. Digression is also a tool for procrastinators. I found a great place to sit and write. Unfortunately, the librarian and a visitor’s voices shattered the sound barrier. So, I gathered my things and move to the farthest part of the room. Once again, their voices blast through the soft whispers of my characters.

So, remember my husband’s Mitch instructions to be polite and make your request known with a smile, I approached the librarian.
“Excuse me,” I smiled and yes, she smiled back. Thank you, Mitch. “Your voices are carrying to the back. It’s hard to concentrate.”“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said with concern. “Thank you for letting me know. It is rare we get someone in to use the genealogy software. I may have gone overboard. We’ll tone it down. We do have quiet rooms.”

QUIET ROOMS? QUIET ROOMS, SHE SAID!

How deliriously giddy I became when she led me to my own little quiet room. The walls were gray. A six-foot table begged for my belonging. When the door shut behind her, two hours of creative bliss smothered me—no noise or distractions–two hours of straight writing—pen to paper. Who needs a computer? And guess what? I use an old cliche in an eye-popping way. My characters start gaining weight—-fleshing into people of substance and depth.

So, yeah, I’m going back. The librarian says I can the quiet room for three hours if no one has reserved it. Three hours! My characters might even develop some bad habits.