This week I'm participating in Christine Tyler's blogfest and talking about who and what made me decide to be a writer.
I don't think there's one, huge defining moment or person who inspired me to be a writer. As long as I can remember, when people asked me what I wanted to be, I told them an author. (Okay, no, that's only half-true; in my painfully shy days, when someone spoke to me, I would squeak and hide behind my mother. And then she would tell them I wanted to be an author.)
My love for words and books started at a young age, so I might as well start at the beginning. My favorite book when I was little was "A Pocket for Corduroy".
I didn't let it deter me. I don't remember wondering if I could read it myself. I just remember opening it up because I didn't want it to be over.
The first sentence is, "Late one summer afternoon Lisa and her mother took their laundry to the laundromat." I asked my older sister what each of the words were, and then read the rest myself. And then I read it again. And then I read some more. I started reading everything. (side note: early reading is great, but can also cause panic attacks, like when I read the symptoms of prostate cancer [getting up at night to pee!], and, even though I had no idea what a prostate was, convinced myself that I had it.)
I guess loving to read doesn't always equal loving to write, but it's where I started. It was my first spark.
**Also starting today is Rachael Harrie's third Writers' Platform-Building Campaign. It's a great way to network and make new friends and Rachael is super-awesome, so go check it out!