I remember my motive to be a bookworm very well, this unforgettable scene keeps coming to me. I can’t recall the exact words but I can recall the situation.
It was during D.E.A.R. time (drop everything and read) in class I was either in third or fourth grade a bunch of girls and myself were sitting and discussing those childish discussions of whom they knew read a book with more pages. One said holding her hands up and leaving a gap between her index finger and thumb indicating the thickness of the book and saying that a person she knew read a book that thick. While another girl points to a book she was holding, probably a “Harry Potter” book, saying that her sister read that much. I don’t remember joining the conversation but I remember absorbing. I absorbed what they said and I thought I wanted to be that person who reads such an amount of pages. I wanted to experience that, little did I know that the term books is underestimated in my perception at that time.
Shortly in the years after books become my companion, my friend in need, my husband with love, my everything. I would hold a book and not let go of it, grasping it hard until I finished it and when I was done I would hold another books fulfilling my pleasure at living another world. And so much did I feel lost when I had no book to read. I found a better world in those papers, a place where I could fantasy and dream and let my imagination to be free.
I hated those picture books it was not my thing it only did block my imagination and showed us how they wanted us to see it as it is, not we creating its image. I always went for fictional books, preferably modern fiction. I like to explore those amazing minds and it’s sensation it gave me was unexplainable.
I would clear up my time to just read a book and so my enjoyment was unattainable when I went to a bookstore. Every time I picked a book a thought would come to me ” I want to be a writer one day”, ” I will be publishing my book one day”. I not only wanted to be that but I just knew it that someday my destination is to be one. I would vision that one day I’ll see my book with my bare hands on one of those shelves being sold.
It wasn’t a matter of money, while it sure is a good element to consider, but it was a matter of being one of those writers that I often idol being in the same line offering my writings to people who were lost like me. Giving them the comfort that those writers gave me. I made up stories in my head and I knew the best way to release them was through writing.
My first attempt to write was in sixth grade it was a two page story on a cardboard (front and back), I think I ran out of paper that made me decide to write on a cardboard, with ideas flowing that I could no longer hold back and I wrote a small fairytale about an orphan girl who was treated by her aunt and uncle as a maid , locked up in the damp attic and then this boy finds out about her and comes to rescue her by helping her to escape later on they get married and live happily ever after. A typical fairytale you see but it was my first and it was and is still something big to me for this small piece was my first step forward to what I believe is my dream.
And so I created my own world that consists of books and writings, a place where there is no expectations and no judgment. A beautiful world where I was at peace and enjoyment. A place that allowed me to be myself and nobody else.