When I was a kid I alternately told my friends I wanted to be a detective or a scientist when I grew up, or possibly a combination of the two. But what I really, really wanted (and revealed to my mom who told me to keep working on my math) was to get paid to read books. Whether it was a book hidden under the table at dinner or under the covers with a flashlight, I was always stealing extra moments to dive into the world of a story. Still when high school rolled around, I focused on science and years later had finished my masters in physics. But those cherished things which lay dormant, sleeping but not forgotten, in our minds have a way of creeping back up.
Flash forward through eight years of working in a science museum and then another seven writing and studying the craft of writing to just last week. When I’m talking with my daughter about what she wants to do when she grows up, but all she wants to do in the moment is read. And that’s when I have my epiphany:
I am living my childhood dream.
Thank you to all the wonderful authors who are part of my dream.