Much like James Stewart, my love of reading preceded my interest in writing. I would visit the library often growing up, checking out books in the mornings at the elementary school before the first bell rang or taking part in the public library’s reading program during the summer. When I had my tonsils removed in the fourth grade, my school librarian (who was all too familiar with me at this point) delivered me a stack of books at home, knowing I would get restless without reading material while I was recovering.
Unlike Stewart, my love of writing followed soon after as a natural progression. My mother was a teacher at my elementary school, so I would often stay with her after the class ended, waiting for her to finish grading papers or write
Unlike Stewart, my love of writing followed soon after as a natural progression. My mother was a teacher at my elementary school, so I would often stay with her after the class ended, waiting for her to finish grading papers or write