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?
