I love the physical items that jump out of the book page and land in my lap with a be-happy giggle and a promise that what I read is just a little more real than it is.

That I am not crazy for my passion and connection to that world. Those written people.

That the confusion stemming from my connection to the story, the characters (that are real people—wait they’re not, but I have real feelings about them), the message and my very real emotional journey with a book—this is all justified with something in my world from that world that I can smear my fingerprints on, and take with me through my day.

Something that says I’m not crazy.

It’s OK to love this.

You’re not alone.

When one of my favorite book series went merch heavy, are you KIDDING with the buying?!?

I dressed up to stand in line for the next book. Then later read it back and forth with a friend of mine together over a few days. That was also a blast.

But dressing up and dripping with merch on my way to the bookstore that advertised a great live experience while waiting to get that next book in the series, I expected a lot more than I got.

They were offering more connection to that world.

And dropped the ball.

Other than the excitement of others like myself—adults and kids alike—that was heady and joyous and a wonderful experience in and of itself, the bookstore’s ad promises of an additional connection between the made-up world and my own fell short.

There was a line, there was red punch in cheap paper cups, and a crackly sound system that abused the eardrums of those standing within 10 feet of it as it wailed and shrieked out fantasy theme music on repeat, but was only annoying white noise to those of us any farther out in line.

And once inside?

No one was dressed up. No fun table set-up. Not even an attempt to theme it up. Just hand-trucked stacks of book boxes they unloaded to people as fast as they could with a look of annoyance. Efficiency over experience.

Here’s your book, now go buy it and go away.

Arg.

And this was quite a large prestigious bookstore that always tried to have a neighborhood, folksy vibe. And there were so many people in line that day they had to close down the street for a block. Like an amusement park ride…with no amusement provided.

But I kept my merch for a very long time. I enjoyed that connection. That magical bit of “this is real.” Well, it could be. Just a little bit more than reality claims it to be.

It could be real.

Just maybe.

I wish there were those kinds of physical things that connected me to more of my favorite books. I would be all over them.

And the ones that do have the merch, that connection via a physical object between reality and imagination. Shared imagination. Well, I am all over it.

I am not alone.

And all of this is to tie back to the Licensing Expo I spoke about in the last two blogs that I visited two weeks ago, and had a blast. A definite amusement park for me.

Those items, the creation and distribution of that merch in order to form that connection between me and my favorite book are often made (business deals) at the Licensing Expo. Where creatives and business people unite to connect people to what they love, create a sense of community, and deepen the love and joy people have with the stories that are written and shared.

…And also to make a lot of money.

So thank you money making dreamers. Keep ‘em comin’.