Thursday, November 19, 2015

Just something to read

I have surpassed the 25k mark for my novel. I have never written this much in my life. I'm so chuffed at the word count that I'm not even especially concerned with the fact that I am going to have to basically rewrite the whole first draft! Well not rewrite it but....there is a lot of editing that will need to be done. Still, I see the ending in my head so clearly and I've never seen that before. Plus, I am making myself laugh, cry and develop back problems in the process. It is all about the process anyway, right?

At work today I helped an elderly Haitian man who is a regular at this library. He's a retired academic and speaks about five languages, all heavily French accented and he is the sweetest man ever. Today after I looked up a bunch of Umberto Eco titles for him (normally I just answer questions about why the scanner doesn't read the library card number) he handed me an envelope and said "This is a gift for you, my friend. Just something to read." I was surprised but I always welcome gifts involving reading so I thanked him and he left.

My curiosity would not allow me to wait until closing time to look into the envelope and it turns out he had copied an article about the Citadelle La Ferrier, a former fortress, now "tourist attraction" in Haiti. The article was from the Journal of American Architects in 1928 and described the storied history of the Citadelle and was utterly fascinating. I'd say I could make it a destination to visit but honestly, am I going to be able to visit Haiti, ever? On his way out he told me to save my money so I could visit one day. Also, I'm a little bit in love with the Haitian professor, as I call him in my head. Then again, I fall a little bit in love with anyone who gives me things to read, watch, listen to and learn. I've decided I want to be the type of person, when I'm old and lonely, that gives people things to read. No one will read them, of course, but I'll do it anyway.

And now, just like Mary in Beford Falls, during her unfortunate, miserable, grey, depressed spell as a librarian without George Bailey's emo angst in her life, I have to close up the liiiiibrary!

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