I have had a strange relationship with books. Not only am I a writer, but I am also an avid reader. However, it wasn’t always that way. In fact, the idea I am a writer at all is pretty strange.
The reluctant bookworm
Many people seem to think that those of us who love reading, h had that habit since we were young. The bookworm of the family, surrounded by stories and with a larger vocabulary than most adults.
Maybe that is true for most people (I don’t know, I’m not most people), but it wasn’t true for me.
When I was young I actually struggled to read. Like most of the Infant and Primary schools, mine had the colour-coded reading system.
Pink and red stickered books were the easy, simple books for new learners. Then it went through the rainbow getting harder with each colour category.
Finally, it ended at silver and gold which were the top reading books. It was expected that children would reach these by the end of Primary school before they went on to High School.
However, for most of my years, I could barely get past the red books. I was not considered to have dyslexia, so there was no condition that affected how I saw words.
I just couldn’t seem to grasp them. I could spell them and read them but it was like there was a slow block that stopped me grasping the meaning.
So, I floundered while everyone else flourished.
A lover of stories
One might think that this would drive me away from the written word, but since I am writing this in my Writing Blog and pursuing a dream of writing full-time, we can see that didn’t happen.
Since I was little, stories held me fascinated. My parents and my sister would read to me when I was young and I would get to listen and just imagine the places in my head. It meant that I was well on my way to creating my own worlds, ideas, characters etc.
Now, all good writers know that reading is important if you want to be a writer. So, I never let my struggle to read affect that.
Whether it was the sheer amount of effort I put in or whether I just “grew into my brain”, who knows. But by my second year in high school, I was able to read at a normal pace.
I no longer struggled with reading and I got to enjoy the stories without the need for someone to read them to me. It wasn’t easy. In fact, even now I still have moments when I struggle to grasp something. It’s as if my concentration lapses and I’m just blinking at some word I’ve read a hundred times and now it’s just not going in.
Thankfully that doesn’t happen as often.
My love of stories, of books and the worlds these authors shared with us, drove me on. Despite the difficulty I had, they opened up a world of wonder that I have felt at home with.
I am glad to have reached a point where I can truly enjoy the stories and now, even make my own. 🙂
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This post has been batting around in my head for a while and when the Blog Hop came up, I didn’t feel drawn to the Optional topic, so thought I would use it to share this.
I hope you enjoyed it and do make sure to check out other Blog Hopper authors. As always, big thanks to Julie Valerie for running the monthly blog hops 🙂
Normal scheduling will resume on Friday with a typical writing post, so do pop back for that 🙂