I don't even know how old I am in this picture. It's got to be the early eighties- I mean, look at those shorts! But as my mom (the only person with access to photos this embarrassing) pointed out, even then I dragged a book with me. And I'm clutching it for dear life, even though I'm in alleged little kid heaven- an amusement park. See the pretty pony? I didn't. I get so immersed in books, not even bodily harm can rouse me. I know this because my brother- the kid in the unfortunate shorts lounging just behind me- would get so irritated that I preferred dead trees to his company that he threw shoes to get my attention. Sometimes it worked. It's only gotten worse with age:
Daughter: Hey Mom, when is dinner?
Me: Growls: I'm reading. Turns page.
Husband: Sweetheart? You're still in your pajamas. And you wore them all day yesterday, too...
Me: Snarls: I'm. Reading. Turns page.
President Obama:Unless you perform this vital task immediately all life on Earth will cease to exist.
Me: Yells: I'M READING. Turns page.
The second most amazing thing about being a writer has been discovering a whole universe full of people who feel the same way. People who get it, no matter what their role in Book World actually is. Book bloggers, publishers, editors, agents, reviewers, readers, writers, illustrators, librarians, English teachers- fellow book junkies all. If we could, we'd distill books into liquid and mainline them straight into our veins. That new book smell we all claim we love? It's really just an excuse to stand over a fresh volume and inhale deeply, hoping that somehow, this time we really will ingest the sucker.
The first most amazing thing about being a writer?