Libraries and the Magic of a Dream Come True
Author Jenny Lundquist discusses why libraries are a lifeline for her when transitioning from writing one book to the next.
This past spring I finished writing a book. After I typed my two favorite words (the end!) I sent it off to my agent, celebrated with family, and finally got a good night of sleep. I felt content. Proud of myself for accomplishing something I’d been working toward for the last year and a half. I had this deep sense of peace, the kind I rarely experience.
It lasted less than 24 hours.
The next morning I woke up feeling creatively frustrated. I know this feeling well; it’s the sign that there’s another story I need to write. I just need to begin the hard work of finding it. I needed to start a new book, but I couldn’t remember how. This forgetfulness happens to me every single time I finish a book. It’s as though, in the act of writing the final words of one story, I somehow overwrite my knowledge of how to begin another one.
Then a little bit of the fog cleared, and I remembered: I needed to go to my public library.
It’s not surprising that my thoughts would turn to the library, since The Library of Curiosities, my latest middle-grade novel about a family who collects magical objects, occurs in a library setting. For me libraries have always seemed like magical places, and have been a source of great inspiration. In fact, my local library was one of my first stops years ago when I finally, finally, decided to give this writing life a try.
After all, when you step into a library, you’re not just walking into a warehouse filled with books. You’re entering into a cathedral of dreams come true. You’re standing in the company of creators—both past and present—their artistic offerings to this world bound-up in the form of printed pages. It’s a sacred space that houses fine art, better (in my humble opinion) than any museum ever could be, because in a library you can actually take the art home with you for your own personal enjoyment and learning.
So, this past spring, when I was feeling unable to start, unable to begin again, I took myself to my local library. I browsed the shelves. I breathed in the hushed atmosphere, and the scent of paper and published dreams. I reminded myself that before each one of these books existed there was a writer with only a dream in their heart. A writer who may not have known where to start. Or how to start. But somehow, step by step, they figured it out.
And if they could figure it out, so could I. Again.
I began plucking books off the shelves. Books are dreams come true, yes; but they are also a guidebook. Every single one of them is a master text other writers can learn from. I allowed myself to feel motivated by all the different premises and genres. So many books; so many different stories. So many different voices to tell them and I let myself be reminded that if there was room here on the shelves for these voices there would be room for mine as well.
I paid attention to what stood out to me. If I liked the way an author handled setting, that book went into my tote bag to check out. Same for authors who had mastered other aspects of fiction I admired: tone and mood, point of view, dialogue, and the like. Of all the ways I have pursued the craft of writing fiction—everything from attending one-day workshops to going back to school to obtain my MFA in Creative Writing—the single most helpful thing I’ve ever done is read other writers’ words. My budget won’t ever be able to keep pace with my appetite for books; luckily, my local library is always there for me, day after day, year after year.
It's been a couple months since that day, and I have returned to the library many times in search of training and inspiration. On any given day I can’t tell you how many library books I have strewn around my house, but I can tell you it’s 30 or under, my library’s check-out limit—an unfortunate downgrade from the pre-pandemic limit of 50. Nevertheless, each time I pick one up, I’m reminded that I’m not just holding a book, I’m holding someone’s dream come true.
Right now I’m still in the very beginning stages of working on a new book idea. This means I spend a lot of time staring out the window, imagining new characters and worlds I might want to build for them. Mostly, though, it means I spend a lot of time surrounded by my piles of library books, soaking myself in the words of others. Filling up my creative well so that, eventually, my own words will overflow and spill out in the form of a new story.
A new book; a new dream come true.
Check out Jenny Lundquist's The Library of Curiosities here:
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