have you ever wished you could enter a book?
time and time again.
even the creepy ones. except never V.C. Andrews. shudder. those books scare the pants off me. at least they did, back in my tween/early teen days. you know, those long, ever-lasting days of summer when you have absolutely nothing on your agenda and no one looking to you to do anything for them?
in those days I saturated myself with the wickedly wonderful words of go ask alice, endless love and forever, to name only a few. talk about eye openers.
in any case, I was the kid sitting at the table, gently scraping the white out off the fine print while a crowd of eager eyes drew unnecessary attention to the goings-on inevitably landing me a good screaming "for show" and another temporary library ban.
is it a surprise I went on to study literature in school or just ironic?
I do know that I wanted to enter pretty much every single book I wrapped my grubby little hands on. nothing was off-limits in my mind and I am glad of it. I have a general understanding of lots of topics, a wide and varied imagination and an appreciation of the stranger things in life as a direct result.
I love to read
I love to write
and there are still plenty of worlds to enter