The Talisman of Books
Finding inspiration to continue a creative life when it's difficult.
One of my clients from the other side of my life (Permission Granted) wrote a beautiful post about how easy it actually is to continue working hard at all the things we’ve been trained to do and how hard it is to do the things we long to sometimes. It was powerful and I know she’s not alone in those feelings. I know when I do my writing and helping in that other space I am also trying very hard to cement that permission in my own body. I don’t know exactly why some of our most precious and important things are so hard to allow for some of us. But I am committed to walking through the bogs of doubt with my eyes on the horizon of where I intend to go.
For inspiration for continuing I love to listen to the process for other fiction writers to see if any of them might match my brain a bit and stick—like that note taking format in university that I have never stopped doing. This week I was listening to writer William Boyd on Desert Island Discs. He spoke about how for each of his novels he collected a miniature library of books he read to help in his research. And because you “don’t throw out books” he now has over 10,000 books in his house. I felt so seen. One of the hardest things about not having my own space this last year is not having my books around me and not buying new ones as I encounter them. I miss the ability to have an idea or a remembering and just reach for the source. Sigh. Such tactile pleasure in books.
I once spent a week at Gladstone’s Library in Wales. A beautiful place full of the former Prime Minister’s book collection—including handwritten notes where he gave away the identity of ‘Anonymous’ women authors. The magical part though is it is a residential library in a beautiful historical building. You get to stay there! Eat, sleep, think, dream surrounded by thousands of books. It was a very special experience.
Can you imagine a world without books? Where the girl I was and the woman I am didn’t have access to books? The Bookmobile of my childhood saved me. A school bus renovated to be a mobile library where the librarian sourced and brought books she knew I would like to the main street of my micro, rural home town. I can’t imagine my adolescence without books. I can’t imagine not loosing myself in bookstores caressing the titles I passed, curating a pile of hope and adventure and knowledge just for me.
And yet this story I am writing is about such a time. When books were so very rate and special and symbols of status and wealth and power. Yet our young Erna is a gifted scribe and finds herself in the centre of power she doesn’t yield. Because of books.
Have a great week and go caress a book if you can.
Susie
