I cannot live without books.
– Thomas Jefferson
Book shopping is like being plopped in a pile of fluffy puppies and told to take your pick. And that you don’t have to stop at just one.
The moment my fingers brush the door handle, the books inside chirp like we’re finally being reunited after I foolishly strayed off course during migration. “What took you so long? We missed you.”
As I open the door, the sweet waft of paper and promise shoots straight to my brain. Where it obliterates every iota of financial responsibility and spatial common sense.
Space? Of course I have space. It’s just a teeny tiny paperback. Even across state (and Canadian) lines, I can hear my army of bookcases cough “bullshit!” in practiced unison.
As I walk the aisles, my mouth opens and eyes widen in awe of the talent that created these bound wonders. I can hear faint whispers of “chooseme chooseme chooseme.”
I don’t stand a chance against their siren’s song.
I select my newest treasure with reverence, and my heart races as my feet compel me to the register. I went in for one $5 journal, but I come out at least three books happier and poorer.
Since going freelance, I’ve met several fellow copywriters. And we all share this same addiction affection, even if our favored genres and subjects differ.
Books come with the territory of being what we are—keepers of the written word.
There’s an exception to every rule, but I’ve not yet met that writer. If I do, I’m not sure I could relate. Our topic of conversation will quickly turn to the weather.
How deep does your love of books run? What are some of your favorites?
Rubber Ducky Copywriter™ 
[…] frequented libraries; they were our only steady supply of books because we had neither the money to buy them nor the space to keep […]