A few days ago I visited the Brownsburg Library. I happened to be driving down Tilden when, all of a sudden, the urge to handle a book consumed me and I literally turned around in the first available driveway and headed back to the library.
As a kid, I spent some time each week visiting the tiny library in town. I usually checked out mysteries or horror story collections. And there were times when I just strolled through the stacks and looked at the selection. Sometimes for hours. But, hey, I was an odd kid (and was often called "Odd Todd"). It was only later in my life that I gave up my dream of becoming an axe murderer and decided to read instead.
Going to the library still gives me a thrill. I love the smell of fresh books in the morning. I always enjoy seeing the new titles on the front shelves and every now and then I will ask a librarian if the library happens to carry a title by an obscure writer named "Allcott", "Outcoot", or "something like that." Of course, libraries never have my books on the shelves, which gives me great relief. I can't deal with the idea of people actually reading my books, and have yet to meet anyone who has actually read anything I've written.
The closest I've ever come was in a library some years back when someone asked me," Hey, didn't you used to be that guy who wrote those books that no one reads?"
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