I loved books before I even know how to read them. My mother tirelessly read to me when I was little and instilled in me such a love of made-up stories that I was already excited to learn when I reached first grade. Naturally, writing followed. My teachers told me I had a gift and I enjoyed it so much, I just assumed they were right. I was eight when I wrote my first poem … nine when I attempted a short story … and ten when I decided that I wanted to see my name on a Barnes & Noble shelf someday. I had every intention of majoring in English when I got to college to pursue my dream of writing and publishing a novel. A high school intro to journalism class totally threw my life plans off-track, but in a good way. I hope my ten-year-old self wouldn’t be too mad at me. I’m still sharing stories, just differently, and I love it more than I could have hoped to when it came time to decide “what I wanted to be when I grew up.” Then again, I ain’t dead yet and publishing a book, either for kids, teens, or adults is still a dream. Here are five books (out of countless others) that inspired my love of the written word from childhood to adulthood. Continue reading
Worthy of a reblog. Beautiful. This one’s for all the writers out there.
Oh, why thanks, Ryan. Entertainment PSA is one month old today!
I joined WordPress in early July and immediately began tinkering with what would become my new playground. I knew exactly what I wanted to see it become, but for a short while I wasn’t sure I’d even manage to get it up and running. WordPress is a first class blogging tool, but it’s certainly difficult to navigate as a beginner. Having used it for a previous job, I was familiar with the basics of posting, but to start from scratch was a week-long headache. Finally, I found a free theme I liked that would allow me to utilize the widgets I wanted. It had customizable menus and backgrounds. I was able to get my tabs just right and uploaded the background image I had my heart set on. It finally started to look like a blog. Continue reading