I’ve always liked the idea of collecting spoons. Haven’t pursued that with fervor yet. I do own over a dozen Willow Tree figurines. My mom and I got into a groove of exchanging those for years. I’ve pretty much maxed out my collection.It hit me the other day. I don’t actually collect anything physical—anything I can hold in my hands.
What I really collect...stories.I’m building a library inside my brain.
It’s not actual books I enjoy having in my possession, as I take out many books from the library and tend to give my books away readily.It’s the stories.
And every single story has a way of fueling my love of writing.That library—the one I’m building inside my brain reminds me of the infamous line, “If you build it they will come.”
My Field of Dreams lives inside my own characters, characters stitched together from my experiences, my robust and sometimes stubbornly present imagination. My Field of Dreams is fashioned from the hundreds of stories embedded in the depths of my memory and make up. I carry these influences with me everywhere. They alter my perception, increase my will to empathize, and encourage my passion of communicating through the art of story.
The lush benefits of reading and writing are so intricately intertwined it’s oftentimes difficult to discern which invigorates me more.But make no mistake. This is no chicken and egg, which came first conundrum.
Reading came first.Writing was born out of my love of reading—the powerful force, the electric charge that strums the soul when a character comes alive with felt relevance for the reader.
Nothing I hold in my hands has the potential to do what only stories are meant to.Are you building a library inside your brain? Do you collect anything of great significance to you?