Project Bookshelf: Greyson Finch

When I was a kid, my mom taught me the importance of books. As a published author and a single mother working full time at a small-town newspaper, she knew the value of the written word. And I grew to love them. She got me a bookshelf, painted the outside purple and the inside green. By the time I was six, it was filled to the brim with books. Chapter books, picture books, pop up books. Something of nearly every genre and age range. The shelves sagged under the weight of thousands of words. That same shelf now sits in my kid sister’s room, filled with different books, but the same weight.

When I was in my teens, I outgrew that tiny bookshelf. My books were longer, heavier. They would no longer fit. So, for Yule one year, my parents bought me a large black-and-silver bookshelf. One with enough space to fit all of my books and my trinkets. I reorganized that shelf a hundred times while I had it. Sometimes alphabetically by author last name, sometimes rainbow order. But it was always full. Fantasy, poetry, fiction, nonfiction, and every story I could get my hands on. I think that’s what made me love writing so much. Reading stories by so many people about so many things. Every time a book made me cry, I found myself desperate to recreate that feeling in my own writing.

At twenty-one, I moved out of Oklahoma and up to Virginia. I packed all of my belongings into my tiny 2007 two-door Honda civic and drove across the country in two days. However, in order to do that, I had to get rid of as much of my stuff as I could. I sold or donated almost every book that I owned. The only ones I kept were either a part of my religious practice, or books I was in the middle of. Once I got to Virginia, I got sucked under the wave of my life. I was a full time college student working as much as I could to get some money.

I finally started reading again when I decided to switch my major to poetry. It was the best decision I’ve ever made. They say there’s no money in poetry. I don’t believe that. But, even if I did, I wouldn’t care. Even if poetry couldn’t keep my stomach fed, it nourishes my soul. Now, my bookshelf has a total of twelve books. Norse and Greek mythology for my religious practice, several fantasy books, and a handful of poetry books that I’ve annotated a little too much.

I’ll work on growing my collection again when I have an actual bookshelf to grow it on. But, for now, I like my small anthology of myth, magic, and poetry.

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