I cannot search for King Solomon’s mines. No, I must instead search along with Alex Quatermain in the world of fiction. I cannot travel the world to find the Holy Grail, I need Indiana Jones, and then, it is still fiction. Nor can I search for El Corazon, unless with Joan Wilder… again, fiction. And what about the lost city of gold? Ben Gates… yeah, fiction (and what is on page 47, anyway? It’s killing me!) Or searching for a chest of Aztec gold with Captain Jack Sparrow? Who knows, that one might actually be real… So how can I, as a writer, write about such delights of a treasure hunt, if I can’t actually go on a treasure hunt? I go with what I can get, like searching for treasure such as… five books for a dollar at the first garage sale of the season. Can you say score! Ah, the thrill of the chase! The wonder of the second hand store ‘There is only one shirt like it in the store, and it’s mine for three dollars, Mwhaha!’ effect! Some ridicule such a practice. But it is a treasure hunt. A one of a kind treasure (or one of a kind deal) hunt. Most of the books on my shelves are second hand, and they hold almost greater importance than any treasure chest unearthed from the depths of the sea. Almost. The thrill is in the hunt, and there is a true joy reaped from the booty. So hunt on, treasure hunters. Hunt to your heart’s content, it is not just for the fictitious characters of yore. Then we can all sit around our laptops, like treasure hunters of old, and share dramatic tales of our treasures won. Cause treasure hunters of old totally did that. What are your favorite ‘spoils’ from your treasure hunts?