I walk in to the library and go straight to the hold shelf. I pick up the book I requested on using dreams to write fiction and put it in my bag. Then I head to the “juvenile” section.
I pull a couple of new mysteries off the shelves and bag them with my writing book. Then I go for what I really came for: books 3 and 4 in the 39 Clues series. Last week, I read the first book in the series to learn about mysteries. I’m reading the rest because I enjoy the books. Not that I’d admit that to just anyone.
I walk to the self-checkout counter, silently rehearsing the lie I’d use if asked. “I’m checking out these books for my daughter.” I don’t have a daughter, but some how that seems easier to say than “I’m a children’s writer” or “you know, they’re just suspenseful.”
I have a moment of slight panic when one of the books won’t scan, but it works on the second try. Soon, I’m on my way. I sling the bag into the front seat, resisting the urge to crack the binding before I drive home.
Have you had a pleasure read lately? What was it? How was it alike/different from what you usually read?