Discovering the Relevance of Words
I remember walking through Powell’s City of Books in Portland as a small child with my grandma. I remember being overwhelmed by the books around me, the way they smelled and felt, the way I got dizzy looking up at the tallest shelves.
I don’t know why I’ve always been fascinated by books, and not just the ideas they contained but the physical objects themselves. My first library card was a revelation to me. “I can take home any book I want?” I was an easily amazed child.
The feeling of pride I felt when I finished reading the first book I considered a ‘real’ book, meaning one with chapters that was over 100 pages, is something that is still with me. I wanted to tell everyone. It was Redwall, I think, and people must have been very irritated with the child who wouldn’t stop talking about mice who lived in castles.
For writers, it all starts with reading. The immense feeling of possibility I got when the nice old lady at the Washington County Library handed me my own library card is the same feeling I got the first time a teacher encouraged me to write about a topic of my own choosing. “I can write about whatever I want?”
What is your earliest memory of the written word? Do you and literature have a cute story about how you first met? Or did you grow up together and fall in love naturally, like Greg and Marsha Brady?
We want to know.