My First Book Signing — What an Awkward Line Left Behind
Hello, and welcome.
Whether you are visiting for the first time or have been reading my work for some time, I’m glad you are here.
I am Ukyo Kitagi (Kitagi @ Creative Notes).
I publish stories on Kindle centered on themes of hope and renewal, and several of my works have reached No. 1 bestseller status in multiple categories.
Voice. Presence. Words.
I believe that something essential about a person can reside in the things we cannot see.
From that realization, I write stories about emotions that cannot easily be put into words, and about the distance between one person and another.
Recently, I held my first book signing at a certain venue in Tokyo.
It was a joint event with several other authors, but for me, it became a quiet day that has stayed with me.
I was deeply grateful to the people who had already lined up before the event began.
After finishing, I looked at my signature and found myself thinking:
What is a signature, after all?
Perhaps it is not writing meant to be read by someone else.
Perhaps it is more like a trace—
a small mark left behind to say, “I was here.”
Thinking of it that way, I began to feel that those slightly awkward lines were not so bad after all.
Including that awkwardness,
I think this will remain a day I remember for a long time.
Being able to talk with readers while signing their books was also a valuable experience.
I rarely have opportunities to hear directly from readers, so every word they shared stayed with me.
One person told me,
“Your writing makes me want to keep reading.”
That made me very happy.
Looking back on the conversations from that day, the works I have written over the years naturally came to mind.
In particular, the theme of Prosopagnosia somehow overlapped with what I felt that day—
the question of how we perceive the things we cannot see.
If a signature is a trace that says, “I was there,”
perhaps writing, too, is a trace that remains somewhere inside another person.
The words we exchanged that day, and the atmosphere we shared,
seem to connect quietly with the things I have been writing all this time.
Thank you for reading to the end.
Through writing, I want to bring light to the things we cannot see.
I will continue to quietly weave these small lights into words.
If you would like, please join me on this journey of words by becoming a reader.
I Donated My Books to a Local Library — The Trilogy About Human Life
Hello, and welcome.
Whether you are visiting for the first time or have been reading my work for some time, I’m glad you are here.
I am Ukyo Kitagi (Kitagi @ Creative Notes).
Voice. Presence. Words.
I believe that something essential about a person can reside in the things we cannot see.
From that realization, I have continued writing stories centered on themes of hope and renewal.
Recently, I visited a local library to donate copies of my books.
Prosopagnosia
The Runner in the Sterile Room
A Landscape of Normalization
These are the three novels I wrote as The Trilogy About Human Life.
I contacted the library in advance and confirmed that they could accept the books before visiting.
Why I Donated My Books to a Local Library
From the time I published these books and deposited copies with the National Diet Library, I had already decided that my next step would be to donate them to local libraries.
Once a book is held by the National Diet Library, it can be preserved for future generations.
However, the National Diet Library is somewhat different from a place that people visit as part of their everyday lives.
It plays an important role in supporting parliamentary records, documents, research, and other materials, with a strong emphasis on collection and preservation.
Its main library is in Tokyo, while the Kansai-kan is located in Kyoto Prefecture.
For many people, neither is a place they can easily visit on an ordinary day.
Of course, it is possible to read books there.
But I wanted my books to be available somewhere closer to people’s everyday lives.
Books Are Meant to Be Read
I believe books are meant to be read.
It is wonderful when someone picks up a book in a bookstore, or when it finds a place on a bookshelf.
But a book truly begins to breathe when someone opens its pages.
Libraries are visited by people of many different ages and backgrounds.
Some may borrow a book because it catches their interest.
Others may discover one by chance while browsing the shelves.
Through these encounters, a work can quietly find its way into someone’s everyday life.
I think that is one of the great charms of a library.
Connecting with Readers in the Local Community
It had been some time since I had visited my local library.
There were more people inside than I had expected.
There was a quietness even though people were there.
Someone was looking for a book.
Someone was sitting at a desk.
Someone was turning the pages of a book.
Watching this scene, I felt that a library is not simply a special kind of institution.
It is a place that has quietly taken root in people’s everyday lives.
There are people who read.
People who search for books.
And people who are waiting to encounter a book they have never seen before.
I am grateful that my books can have a place in such a setting.
The Donation Process
The process of donating the books was very simple.
I briefly explained the works and completed the necessary paperwork.
That was all.
I am grateful to the library staff for their kind and thoughtful assistance.
Hoping the Books Reach Someone
I do not know when the books will actually be placed on the shelves, or when someone might borrow them.
Even so, I hope that someday these books will quietly reach someone who needs them.
Perhaps at some point in that person’s life.
Perhaps while casually stopping by a library.
Perhaps as a book they happen to pick up by chance.
If that moment becomes even a little meaningful to that person,
there would be nothing more rewarding for me as an author.
Thank you for reading to the end.
Through writing, I want to bring light to the things we cannot see.
I will continue, quietly, to weave my thoughts into words.
