The love of books started early.

Yes, I'm a writer so, technically, I'm suppose to have a love of books.  But you'd be surprised at how many writers don't read.  I'd assume it'd be quite difficult to enjoy the written word if you don't actually read it.  Nonetheless, my love of books started at a very young age.  Even further back than I can remember.

I always had a book on hand when I was a child.  There are even old school teachers who remember me as "the girl who was always reading."  I kid you not!  I remember specifically in middle school when I got the "privilege" of being office runner for the day (a boring privilege to say the least) and one of the teachers came in and said, "Every time I see you you have a book in your hands." 

It wasn't a bad thing at all.  Goodness no!  I always took it as a compliment.  Don't know why, but I did.

When I was a bit older, I'd save my babysitting money for a trip to the mall.  Back then that was where the only bookstore in town was.  I'd save and save until I have enough money to buy several new books at once.  We didn't go to the mall often and I wanted to make sure I'd have enough books to last a while.  Of course they never lasted long enough.

By the time I got a job I was splitting my earnings between music, books, and gas for my car. LOL.  Even then, I had quite the list of books to read, but I'd also been able to go to the library as often as I liked (since I drove myself then).  I remember the day I got my library card...  Awww!

As I said, my love of books started very early.  I just didn't realize exactly how early until I came across the very first book I'd written.  No, it didn't have to do with toddlers or vampires.  It was written in crayon; bound and covered with green construction paper and yarn; and had a title page that said, "Written by Author Christie Grant."

It had been packed away for years in a stack of old school papers my mom kept.  She'd given me the papers years ago, but they got pushed to the back of my closet and ignored.  That is, until the other week when I decided to start organizing my paper clutter.  That's when I found the story about a little Indian girl whose parents gave her all sorts of gifts and goodies.

I suppose I was in the 3rd or 4th grade when this "book" was written, but the discovery of that little project proves that my love of books started much younger than I remember.  And I'm so glad it did! :-)

Luckily, my own children are following on the same track, however, I can tell them exactly when their love of books started...  At birth!  I've read to them since they were born.  All three love going to the library; they devour new books; and I only have one left that even requires my reading services any longer (and she starts school in the fall).
So there!  I love books!  And I'm happy to say that my children do as well.  Life is more exciting when you have a good book to fall into.  :-)

Have a great Wednesday, and go pick up something new to read.