How to Begin

My parents instilled a hunger for words at a very young age. I'm told I started reading at around 2 years old, but that can't possibly be true. Or if it is, it's no wonder I'm really tired. 28 years of reading can really be exhausting.

The first book I remember reading from start to finish on my own without ever having someone read it to me is The Berenstain Bears and the Spooky Old Tree, an auspicious start if ever there was one. I don't recall how old I was, but I'm positive I wasn't 2.

As of today, the last book I read was My Sister's Keeper so you can see there's been some deviation, some growth and possibly some regression since I began my reading path ever so long ago.

This blog is about the books in between, the books never read, the books I'm reading and the books ahead. I'm notoriously terrible at reviewing books, I generally try to avoid giving too much away about the plot, and I don't have a habit of remember minutia, so this is an excersize in writing for me. Encapsulating a feeling of the book so as to give my impression without giving too much or too little, incidentally two things I think every writer should practice.

I hope you enjoy.