Wednesday, April 18, 2012
29 minus 8
There isn't a point in my life where I remember not loving to read.
I was the girl who carried around a book that wasn't assigned for class, and would bury my nose in it every free chance I had. Before classes started, after getting a homework assignment done, after finishing a test. I would bring a book to work with me and sit in the breakroom for 15 minutes smoking cigarettes and losing myself in a whole other world.
I've tried my hand at writing. I've written poetry and random prose. I've written really terrible fan-fiction. I've tried to write a memoir, and a children's book. None of these have ever really panned out. I would like to write a combination of all of these and put them into a book, and a title it Love, Blue. I would fill up notebooks with my purple colored ink. I still have most of them locked in shoe boxes in my closet.
I am good with the real stuff. I am really good at writing about what I've experienced, what I've felt, what I am able to touch and smell and feel and be. It's the fiction I struggle with. However, this is what I enjoy reading the most. The stories that are not mine.
Favorite book: I Know This Much is True by Wally Lamb.
Favorite Poet: Saul Williams
I collect books like some women collect shoes. I firmly believe that you can never have too many bookshelves.