If you're anything like me, when you walk into a book store and forget about everything else. Those shelves of books are a siren song, luring you in, tempting you with a myriad of row after row of books in every genre you can think of. (Well, maybe not so much in a brick and mortar store since space would be limited.) Once you start perusing titles and covers, you've been caught up in the siren's snare. But hey, it's not such a bad trap to get caught in. The only problem is losing track of time and later discovering you've been wandering around for the last few hours.
I have several online sources I like to visit on occasion when I hear about a release from one of my favorite authors. When I find a title I like, I start with a price comparison, see where I can get the best deal...and end up getting lost. Researching one title leads to other interesting recommendations and on to others until you've forgotten about what got you started in the first place. (It's like doing research for one of your own plots. You get carried away.) When that happens, I start a list of whatever titles pique my interest. I can sort it all out later.
Mom got catalogs from a company that deals with bargain books. It wasn't unusual for her to order ten or more books at a time. One order consisted of seventeen books. Having that delivered was a special occasion. After she passed, I continued to order from this company until I ran into a slight problem. With my next order, I enclosed a short letter explaining about Mom and asked them to change her name for mine on their mailing list. No questions asked, problem solved.
If you can look at books on a store shelf or in a catalog and walk away empty-handed, you are a strong person. Looking leads to buying, leads to addiction. (Hi, my name is Marissa and I'm a bookaholic.) Let's face it, this is one addiction to which I've never heard of anyone wanting to be cured. Unfortunately, it does lead to another problem. Where do you put them all?
In my home are no less than thirteen bookshelves, nine of which are stuffed to the gills with Mom's books. She never got to enjoy all of them but it didn't stop her from getting new releases that interested her. (I plead guilty to doing the same.) Every bookaholic knows what TBR stands for. And everyone knows the problems a TBR can create. (If you don't then maybe you shouldn't be reading this blog. You're too neat.) Picture the following scenario...
TBR stashes begin showing up in odd places. There's a little one beside your favorite chair, within easy reach. Then it creeps into corners, taking up that little space, growing higher until it's a teetering pillar, taller than you. It covers every seat in the house, every flat surface it can find until the furniture is no longer visible. Little booklets are turning up where you never expected. (Where do booklets come from? If you don't know...) You're forced to tread narrow paths to get around, that is if you haven't already lost your way to the front door. Friends and family no longer visit, afraid they may get caught in the trap that's your addiction. They're so worried about you, they're considering intervention. Is there some place to go for help? Not that you've ever heard of and even if there were, you don't want their help. You're happy with your addiction. There's one thing left that might work for you.
BOOKAHOLICS, UNITE!
