Showing posts with label Lynn Huggins-Cooper. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lynn Huggins-Cooper. Show all posts

The Confessions of a Book Hoarder: Lynn Huggins-Cooper



Until recently, I was drowning in a sea of books. A happy 'problem' - but a problem nevertheless. About four years ago, I moved from a large farmhouse into a small cottage. My book collection was huge but it didn't matter; whenever the piles of books started to topple from every surface, I just built more bookcases. Now, once I made the move into the cottage, I had to decant a gallon into a pint pot - and it didn't work. Books were piled three deep; there was no room for more bookcases. I even had boxes of books in the study. Trying to find books when I needed them was a nightmare and I wasted many frustrated hours searching for the books I needed. The house where I grew up was held up by books. It was a small three story town house, and every flight of stairs and each passage were flanked with book shelves. The bedrooms and my dad's study were crammed with books. So the child of book hoarders became a book hoarder, as you do. Again; a happy problem but a problem nevertheless. This year, I have felt the urge to 'downsize' and simplify even further. I have happily sorted through wardrobes and cupboards and taken bags of items to our local charity shop. I have even donated some items of furniture. But the real test came when I recognised the need to cull my book collection. A scary thought. Giving away some of my home library...shudder.



 The funny thing is, once I started it wasn't as alarming as I thought. I started with cookery books. I had far to many, stretcjing back to my student days. considering I am now fifty, some of those bedsitter-on-a-budget books didn't really fit my needs any more. Then I moved into the living room - more books than anything else. It gives the delicious feeling that one is watching television in a library. However, books were piled up higgledy-piggley and it did not look inviting. More books were collected for redistribution. I took two huge sacks of craft books to a women's project and they were delighted by their treasure. I took blue IKEA bags and boxes of books and donated them to the charity shop - they were very happy with their haul and will hopefully make some funds. I am delighted to think books that I haven't opened in several years will gain a new lease of life with new owners. I kept going - more and more books made that journey to the charity shop. I have given away piles of 'free' author copies of my books to charities and clubs. It has been lovely seeing the pleasure these rather neglected books are giving to new owners. Although the flood has now slowed to a trickle, I have kept donating. Apart from showing me rather embarrassingly that I buy several copies of favourites (handy when it is so hard to find what is needed - but who needs four copies of 'Food For Free'?), culling my collection has taught me some other things. I am ashamed to say some of the books had almost become wallpaper, and I didn't 'see' them any more. No book deserves that! However, with books now all safely and sensibly homed on shelves, I can see what I have more easily. I have rediscovered forgotten gems. It almost feels as though I have a new book collection, without spending any money! I have also moved some of my books into different rooms, and shaken up the mix a little. It is encouraging me to browse and graze happily on books I have not read for years. Give it a go - you may find it quite refreshing.

Secret Trysts

It's a balmy spring morning, and my old dog is happily trotting in and out of the garden in the sunshine as I write, but despite the sunshine I am feeling a bit feeble. The doctor said 'walking pneumonia;' I feel a bit more 'Walking Dead.' Working from home, there are no 'sick days' (cue maudlin violin music) so I am still at my desk, but can I let you into a secret? I am glad to be here. Don't tell my husband - he may stop providing the tea-on-tap that my enfeeblement has provoked.

I have annoying things, like proofs to go through today, and queries to answer for two different projects (again, don't let on to the editors - they need to know these projects only give me unbridled joy) - but I am happy to be here for a different reason. I am cheating on those projects with another love - a new story idea! As with any new romance, I can't stop thinking about my beloved. I fall asleep with a notebook by the bed and disturb my long-suffering hubby by suddenly erupting from the covers to scribble furiously when an idea strikes. The hypnagogic state as I slide into sleep helps me to solve plot problems, and I long ago abandoned the cosy-snuggle-down thought that 'I'll remember that in the morning' - bitter experience has shown that I won't!

I daydream of the story chopping onions for dinner; I woolgather around scenarios as I drive. I ponder WWPD (what would protagonist do) as I go about my daily business. I slip away from my commissioned work down dark corridors of the internet to meet my beloved for secret 'research' trysts and immerse myself in the guilty pleasure.

The thing is, I should probably wait until I have finished the other projects before starting this story, but it is too insistent; it pursues me seductively, wherever I go. So I shall continue to meet my beloved in secret until the time comes when we can declare our relationship to the world. Until then, my secret is safe with you, isn't it?
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