It will take some time for me to reach the present day, but you will have to bear with me a little bit on this journey. After all, I have created this series to document as much as I can of the entire journey so that perhaps other writers will find at least some aspects of my own journey useful.
Fairy tales were a huge part of my childhood. Tales of all kinds in fact. My parents always read them to me, and anything that involved stories was always my favorite thing at school. But more than anything, I have my parents to thank for the passion that I have for books and writing.
From when I was a toddler, books were always given to me as a present. Books of all shapes and sizes and language levels. It didn’t matter that I didn’t know how to read yet. The stories were read to me every day and night, and I stared at the confusing letters and pretty pictures until I eventually began to understand what they meant. I was never told off for tearing a page or scribbling on a book (even if it was an important book that was part of the family library).
I believe that this is the reason why I never had a fear of books or of learning at school (even though I really hated school for the most part). Books were simply an instant part of my life, and my parents deserve all the credit for the magic of stories that entered my life ever since I was born.
I don’t remember every story that I was ever told, but I do remember that I knew entire story poems by heart at the age of two, simply because I had heard them so many times over and over again. They didn’t just help to fuel my imagination, they also helped to increase my vocabulary and my overall ability to express myself.
It would be a few years in the future until I became an avid reader. Surprisingly, it wasn’t children’s literature or fairy tales that truly got me addicted to books. In my preteens, I picked up an unlikely book from the shelf of the local library, because there was a cat on the cover…
Currently listening to: