I recently ran into a friend who said, "I read your book, Chain a Lamb Chop to the Bed, and I loved it."
Thank you," I said, turning bright red [I always turn bright red when someone says she/he loves my books].
"But," she said.
Uh-oh, I thought, the dreaded but.
"I got it at the library," she said.
I gave her a bone-crushing hug.
For the record, I was a "library kid." Picture a plump Shirley Temple with red curls, emerging from the Bayside [N.Y.] library…hands cradled around books…so many books…so many adventures to share…the top book anchored by my chin.
Now, if you’re an author [published or non], repeat after me: "Librarians are our friends. Despite their hectic schedules, librarians read books. Librarians recommend books. Libraries buy books."
And what’s more, librarians do their best to order a book requested by a patron. It’s true. If everyone who reads this blog requests…oh, say, Chain a Lamb Chop to the Bed, librarians will try and get it for you.
I dedicated Eye of Newt to librarians.
When I saw my first published book in a bookstore, I was thrilled. When I saw it in the library, I lost my breath. Literally. Finding my breath, running up and down the aisles, I shouted, "Come! Come! Come! Come!" As if I were the Pied Piper, people followed me back to the New Book Section. "Me!" I said, pointing. "Me! Me! Me!"
And the people smiled.
‘Tis the merry month of May and, as promised [and rib-nudged], Bea will start her serialized suspense story today. In fact, she’s pushing me aside and reaching for the keyboard right now…
GOLDIE AND THE THREE BEERS
by Beatrice Brooks
Twenty-six-year-old Goldie Locke, named for Goldie Hawn—her mother was watching Private Benjamin when her [expletive deleted] water broke — heard heavy footsteps rounding the [expletive deleted] curve behind her. The dense, dark forest was deserted, as dense, dark forests usually are in the middle of the night. Which led to the question: If a Mime fell in the
forest, would anyone hear? Even more importantly, would anyone care?
That very question kept running through Goldie’s head, reverberating like a kettle drum [or, in Goldie’s case, cymbals], as, frightened out of her [expletive deleted] wits, she began shedding stuff in order to make herself lighter. And faster. Her [expletive deleted] wallet, her [expletive deleted]
keys, her maxed-out credit cards, her laptop computer, three library books, and, finally, her [expletive deleted] clothes.
Naked, bosom bouncing, Goldie ran as if her life depended on it…
Tune in next week for the second installment.
Over and out,
I love your library story. As a wannabe writer (and, okay, librarian, although not in the kind of library where mysteries are a factor) I can never understand authors who resent library users for using the library.
And what a day-brightener your Pied Piper moment must have been for the folks at your local PL!
Authors resent libraries? What? Tell me that’s not true! Let me go on record as saying this author LOVES libraries. I discovered the world in a small library in Oakland when I was in the fourth grade. I damn near lived there on Saturday. Unless, of course, there was an Abbott & Costello film at the movies.
Authors don’t resent libraries, Elaine. Au contraire. It’s just that readers/fans seem to be “embarrassed” because they borrowed, rather than bought, my books. What I was trying to say [before Beatrice so rudely interrupted me] was that authors LOVE libraries. And librarians.
Yes, we DO LOVE libraries. I was taken aback by Shelly’s comment. And yes, she mentioned ‘authors resent ‘users’. My error. Mayhap too much coffee this morning?