Imagine a library that goes on forever – vast, dark and silent. Nobody walks its corridors or dusts its shelves. Millions of books are crammed side by side – adventures, romances, mysteries and comedies. They have never been read, for these are the books that do not yet exist. They sit there, waiting to become real.
There are unwritten stories everywhere, and sometimes I stumble across them. Now and then, when I tell someone I’m a writer, they get this shy, keen look in their eye. Suddenly I know what they’re going to say next.
“Um… there’s this story I’d like to write some day.”
They know I won’t make fun of them. It’s exciting to hear them talk about their secret tale, the one that only exists in their head. Just for a moment I feel like I’m sneaking a peek into the Library of Unwritten Books.
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