My dad loves books. Everywhere he goes he looks at books. For what seems like hours. Go to an antique shop and he’s straight into the book section. He has a huge collection. Some of it is housed at my house. I think he’s in competition with the Library of Congress.
When I was a kid he always liked to take my sister and me to the library on Saturday morning. I liked going to the library, but not for the books. There were lots of places to wander around. In between the stacks. Around the reading tables and into the seating areas with the winged back chairs. I could look in the card catalog. Just browsing. And I could pull out a book here and there.
A lot of the books seemed dusty and musty. Some had good pictures. Some, exciting stories. Others were as dry as the dust collecting on them. It seemed to me that books should be written for people to enjoy. Reference, text, science, even math. Doesn’t matter. There has to be a way to make them relevant, meaningful and enjoyable.
That’s what I try to do with my writing. Make it enjoyable and informative. Some people seem to like it. But I never really thought about my book being included with those found in a library. But damn if it didn’t happen! It’s awesome. Very exciting. But then again, it is my book.
I found out the other day, just by chance, that my book, Southern Sailor, is now safely housed in a University special collections library. It’s also in their on-line database. Whoa!
The University of Georgia has a serious library system. There are no less than three buildings on campus dedicated as libraries. My book lives in the Hargrett Rare Books and Manuscript Library. It’s even in a special room. The Georgia Room. It’s part of a special collection of books about Georgia and Georgians. Never in my wildest dreams…
That will teach me. Go ahead, dream big!
That’s part of my story. What’s yours? http://www.personalhistorywriter.com