I have a problem. It’s kind of bad and a little embarrassing. Remember that time I moved everything I own into a storage unit?
In that tiny 4.5X8.5 space, there are fifteen boxes of books, not counting music books and other sheet music. Just books. Fifteen boxes of them. What is the one thing I own more of than anything else? Books! And what store is always the death of me? Barnes and Noble!
It’s an addiction! And it’s terrible!
I know, I know. I’m an author, and authors are supposed to like books. But I own books I haven’t even gotten to read! I’ll buy four, get through two, buy four more. It’s an endless, vicious cycle of the compulsive need to buy more books! And I own a nook! But it doesn’t matter. I want the weight of the paper in my hands. I want to see the spine on the bookshelf I don’t currently own. (more…)