When I was little, I dreamt of growing up to be a librarian.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
To spend all my days in a building of books?! What could possibly be better?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I read my first real-live chapter book the summer after my second grade year. I had moved mid-year, and my second grade teacher had given me “Tee-bo the Talking Dog on the Trail of the Persnickety Prowler.<\/a>” For real. That’s a real book.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And. It. Was. Awesome. It opened a whole new world to me, this idea that reading was so fun! I had been a very diligent “read to your parents for 15 minutes every week” kind of reader. But, those weren’t real<\/em> books. Tee-bo the talking dog? Now that<\/em> was a real book.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And so it started. I devoured all the books, as fast as I could. If it had one of those medals<\/a> on the cover? Even. Better.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I read everything and anything through elementary, middle and high schools. Our house was always full of books. (Funny story: many of the books came from garage sales. We had a whole collection of sci-fi that must have come from one sale: Arthur C. Clark, Isaac Asimov, Robert Heinlein, Ray Bradbury. There was no Philip K. Dick. None. I had NO IDEA who Philip K. Dick was until like 3 years ago. All because that one guy either really hated Philip K. Dick, or else really loved him and wasn’t giving up the books.)<\/p>\n\n\n\n And then college hit. With so much reading of the not-fun kind, I lost my reading mojo. For years – it was probably like 5 years after graduation before I really started reading again. (I did pick up the Lord of the Rings books because, hello, movies, but that was probably about it.)<\/p>\n\n\n\n Grown up life doesn’t quite allow for all the reading, all the time that I would like, and as an obliger<\/a> (got that from a book!) I found that joining book clubs is really the push I need to keep me reading. And a plus: you get to talk about books with other people that love books!!<\/p>\n\n\n\n But with the husband’s new writing career? Now I get to hang out with actual writers. And I get to read their stuff before it’s famous! Sometimes, even before it’s launched out into the world!<\/p>\n\n\n\n A year ago, I had the opportunity to crash a writing retreat<\/a> the husband was on. An adorable little Texas town<\/a>, impossibly far away (seriously, I live in Texas, how can I drive for 9 hours and still be in Texas??), and friend of the arts.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And it was awesome!! I didn’t attend classes, but I caught meals and evening keynotes with the attendees. I hung out with actual<\/a> authors<\/a> and publishers<\/a>. (Seriously, they were so awesome, halfway through I realized I needed to stop monopolizing their time so that, uh, actual writers could get a minute of their attention. Oops, I just wanted to convince Jaye that she also needed purple hair. Which totally happened a few weeks later. Squee!)<\/p>\n\n\n\n And the attendees? All aspiring writers, some with books out. And so I bought all the books.<\/p>\n\n\n\n That conference is where I found my true reading passion: as a writer-groupie.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Writers have so much working against them. First of all, they have to, ya know, WRITE a BOOK. That’s hard, y’all. Takes a lot of dedication. A lot of practice and skill.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Then, they have to endure 53 people telling them that they do not want their book. I can barely handle a stranger on the sidewalk giving me side-eye, but to actually have someone tell you that your blood, sweat and tears aren’t worth their time? Beyond soul-crushing. That hurts. Every time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And then! If you are so lucky as to find a publisher! Your editor tells you all the things that are wrong with your baby. All the ways in which you failed to produce a perfect manuscript. Ouch. A gut-punch after the high of landing a publisher.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And then! When the book comes out! A 1-star review on Amazon. That’s enough to ruin a day.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And I just … I love books. I love the windows into other worlds. I love the windows into others’ souls. I can only be me, living my life, but books … books let me get a peek into others’ lives.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And so by extension: I love writers. There was a world where their book did not exist, and then they willed it into existence. That’s magic.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I love this place I have arrived at, where I can rub shoulders with the magic-makers! Where I can beta-read things and be a tiny, tiny part of the magic. And where I can be a voice of encouragement, because the writer-life is hard enough, man. And the reader life … well, I for one, don’t ever want to run out of books. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" When I was little, I dreamt of growing up to be a librarian. To spend all my days in a building of books?! What could possibly be better? I read my first real-live chapter book the summer after my second grade year. 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