Sometimes writers need a little inspiration, a kick to propel them forward. When I feel like my writing time becomes sluggish and I lack motivation, I head to the bookstore. It doesn’t matter which one, even the library works, as long as there are scads of books, that’s where I gravitate.
Once there, I head to the YA section. Why? Because I like YA, I read YA, but more importantly, I write YA. Then, I look for books written by my friends, and I stare at the shelf, imprinting the image of their book sitting there in the wild, waiting to be claimed by some hungry reader. And then I imagine mine perched on the shelf, shiny and full of promise. Let’s call it tangible hope—the kind you can wrap your hands around and smell. And that’s just what I do. I pick up their amazing creations, crack the covers and inhale hope.
I’ve spent hours this way, roaming from one book to the other, and then I leave, stuffed with optimism and hungry, too. Hungry for my day when my books will stand next to these others, ready to fill someone’s cravings, or maybe even bring them hope in the form of bookstore inspiration.