I love English. I love words. Looking for the perfect word is not an easy job.
When I’m reading a book at bedtime, I often think back to the first books I read for pleasure in the 4th grade. My sister Dess gave me Frankenstein and the collected Edgar Allen Poe works. Although they were completely over my head, I was hooked and started devouring all the fiction my little legs could carry on a weekly basis.
I remember back to 11th grade, when I wrote a poem for English and got a A+, with the comment “you can do perfect work”. Why I didn’t major in English is beyond me. But here I am.
“If I knew then what I know now” is a perfect adage because I would have pursued being a writer. I can still be a writer; in fact, a writer is someone who writes. Therefore, I am a writer. But not the kind I dream about – a novelist, celebrated for storytelling.
I know, I know…it’s not too late.