Well hey there, lover. Welcome back to another rambling post about books.
Buckle up. Who knows what kind of crazy is about to spew out? HA!
So, let’s start here…
As it turns out, I’m a reader first and… author second.
How do I know this?
Well, my first love was books.
You couldn’t keep me away from the local bookstore after I learned to read. It was my happy place.
Every Saturday, after bowling with my aunt, who happens to be five years older than me and has Down Syndrome, my grandparents would take us to the bookstore. I would peruse the books for as long as I could, taking in the titles, the covers, and the book descriptions. Only when my grandma said it was time to go, would I beg her to buy the book I most had my eye on that week. More often than not, she relented. *sly grin*
I learned very young, books took me to a whole different place.
While my home life wasn’t bad, per se, it was certainly stressful as a kid.
I was the oldest of three kids and when I was just five, my middle brother was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer. Yeah, I know. It was a real shit deal. Trust.
Luckily, he managed to live until he was 31. But that’s another story for a different day.
My parents weren’t particularly picky about what I read. So I read anything and everything I could get my hands on. (And some things, as it turns out, I probably was a bit young to.)
When it finally came time to get a part-time job, working for the bookstore was the obvious choice. I mean, duh! Get paid to be in the bookstore?! Sign me up!
Little did I know that I would spend MORE on books because I worked there. So, saving money… not really an option for a bibliophile. HA!
But I was still in heaven.
I worked for that small, indie bookstore for about three years before moving to a bigger city two hours away. But again, of course, working for a larger retail bookstore was my obvious choice. (And still, saving was damn near impossible. HA!)
For me, reading is a part of who I am. If I’m not reading or writing, I get cranky.
I suppose it’s a place for me to lay out my hopes, fears, and dreams in a way that’s “safe” for me to do so. At least, pretty sure that’s what Freud would say. 😉
It’s been over a decade since I started writing and publishing professionally. But my love for reading hasn’t ever diminished. If anything, it’s only gotten stronger and more diverse.
All that being said, though, I forgot along the way to share that love with my first pen name. I was so focused on learning the ins and outs of publishing that the idea of sharing what I was reading seemed silly. Like, who wants to read about what an author is reading about?
But it’s not silly, is it?
It’s our lifeblood.
It’s what makes up the software of our brains and helps others of like-mind to connect to each other.
That’s why I’ve decided to use this blog as a place where I share my love of reading.
Yes, I’m an author.
Yes, I’m writing books that I hope one day you might read.
Yes, I hope like hell that the books I resonate with will show you that we’re kindred spirits.
But most of all, I just want to share a piece of my heart with you. <3
So, hang tight.
Book reviews incoming.
xo Carissa