It finally arrived! My very own copy of my very own book. I can actually hold it in my hands and feel the weight of all those wonderful 190,000 words. Even though I’ve seen it up on the Amazon and Barnes and Noble websites, touching the book today made it seem like reality to me. I wrote a book and here it is, the real thing.
Here’s one aspect of writing my first book. Or even my second. The whole time I was writing it, it didn’t seem quite possible to me that all these words would turn into a book. Then when I finished, I began to believe it a little. I visualized it as an ebook. Words, like digital bits and bytes floating around in the ether of the internet, this I believed. But a book, a real honest-to-God book that has paper and printing and a cover…didn’t seem real until I saw it today sitting on a shelf or held it in my hands. I don’t believe we will ever lose that need to touch a book, turn the pages, feel the cover beneath our hands. No matter how many ebooks we may own, there will always be a need to keep a few books around with the printed page on real paper.
I have plenty of ebooks on my Kindle, but I also have plenty in paper. The idea of getting rid of any of my ‘real’ books feels like a betrayal of those books. They are my friends! Look how worn that one is, the cover barely still on, or the one beside it that had a cup of tea spilled on its pages. I’ve lived with these books and they show the marks of that existence. Now I have duplicates of so many of them on my Kindle, yet I still hold onto them, these long-time paper companions. Ebook or paper, each serves a purpose for me still.