I shudder as I type these words, but admitting I have a problem is the first step. Right?
It’s no secret I took to writing like a moth to the flame. Writing is like a drug to me, even though I often consider giving it up for something more lucrative like stealing cars and selling the parts for hard cash.
Writing is a tough passion. It’s a lonely passion. It’s a labor of love. It’s a one-sided love. Writing is a harsh mistress. Trust me, she won’t console you when you’re crying over rejection letters. She won’t lift a finger to help you out of your despair. Instead, she’ll draw you to her breast and suggest you write away your sorrow. It’s a drug and worse than anything, you can buy from a dealer.
The moment I whispered to the world, I want to write, I fell into writing’s ring of fire as June Carter did for Johnny Cash. Love is love. I’d blame it on the tequila and Rio, but the truth is, blue Agave gives me a headache and Rio is on my bucket list. I have an addiction and there no one to blame but the words.
My addiction came with complications.
I needed accessories. Innocent enough I reasoned, a writer’s standard issue: Oxford American Writer’s Thesaurus:
Interesting! My writer’s curiosity peeked when I read about this one. Really? The Emotion Thesaurus:
A hasty purchase after flipping the pages. Later I justified the addition to my collection because of the good review, and I am a lover of love, The Lover’s Dictionary:
For the Latina who speaks high school Spanish, I found the help I needed in, Hide this Spanish Book & Spanish Among Amigos:
This one comes in handy when the cogs in my head jam, The Describer’s Dictionary:
Totally justified, because any day now Raymond Chandler might channel me to write the next Phillip Marlow-esqe novel, A Dictionary of Hipster Slang:
I have no idea when I bought this or why.I think I look a lot like the woman on the cover of, don’t you? Book of Intriguing Words:
If your write steamy sex scenes in your stories (and I do) and get tired of the same old names for body parts… I HAD to have this one, for research, you know. The Big Book of FILTH:
When Pied a Terre, works better than lover’s nest, Dictionary of Foreign Words and Phrases:
I confess this is one of those books I’ve only opened twice, The Disheveled Dictionary:
I swear this one was a gift, British English, A to Zed:
I had to have this one because one day it will come in handy (one day very soon), Dictionary of Allusions:
This is a superb one to write from. I don’t use it as a writer’s reference; rather I flip the pages, find a quote, and write, Collins Dictionary of Literary Quotations:
This one is fun to read after a glass of wine, but it’s mostly a dust collector, Curious Words:
I plead the fifth, Roget’s Descriptive word finder:
The poet in me had to have this one. I’m proud to say it’s well used, Nothing Rhymes with Orange (really, nothing does):
This is my most recent addition. I lost a couple of hours in Barnes and Nobel on Saturday reading through the lists. I tried to convince myself I didn’t need another book, I did, truly I did. Better than Great:
I’m in deep. I wonder if there a Betty Ford program for writers? I only use three of the above books regularly, the rest are dust collectors.
Some writers buy shoes. Some writers eat chocolate. Some writers drink wine. Some writers watch reality television. Some writers tweet. Some writers take lovers. Some writers cook. I buy dictionaries.