“Those who read are able to travel the world without ever moving.” This was the quote on the very last page of my favorite childhood book. Now, after about 12 years, I have long since forgotten the name of it, and I’m sure my tattered and over-read copy has been packed away in one of the stacks of boxes in my basement by my mother. To be fair, she probably got tired of even seeing the book after having read it to me for years before I was able to read it myself, finally making the connection between sounds letters made and words I spoke everyday. Out of all the books I have read over the years, this one has stuck with me the most, even though it was one of the shortest and most simple stories. To me, the story was magical and it truly allowed me to travel much farther than my little legs could take me. It was after I read this book that I truly became literate; not only did I learn to read because of it, but I also learned to love the idea that I could use my imagination to take others to another world.
The book was no more than 10 pages long. On the cover was a bunny wearing a polka dot dress, sitting under a tree with a picnic basket in one hand, and a book in the other. Behind her there was a sprawling grass field, decorated with the occasional tree. In the book, the bunny starts reading a book about going on a picnic and becomes deeply immersed in the story. The bunny later finds a picnic basket in her kitchen, despite the fact that she had not actually gone on one, leaving her both confused and mystified. I remember reading this as child and being amazed, as if it had just happened to me. From this point on, I saw reading as a magical act, and this only made my thirst for books grow. From that time on, I read every possible second I could. I became known as a bookworm, and it was impossible to take me anywhere without my nose in a book. I was happier this way, because I knew that no matter where I was, I would always be able to travel, and be in my own little world.
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By the time I was about 10, simply reading became dull to me. I would become upset that a book series would end abruptly, or that an author choose to end the book a certain way. I wanted to be able to control how things ended up in stories, and the only way for me to do that was to start writing stories myself. So that’s exactly what I did, which should be no surprise. As the saying goes, “nobody but a reader ever becomes a writer.” I took inspiration from my favorite books, which had shifted from picture books of bunnies, to books about spells, enchantments and wizards. I would fill pages upon pages of my wide ruled paper with my childish scrawl in colored gel pens, obsessing over every single detail. I would cross out words and replace them with others I had found in a thesaurus and do extensive research, in order to make my stories to sound as sophisticated as possible. Anything I wanted to happen, could. Writing gave me a voice, and this was the one way I knew how to touch people’s lives and make a difference.
In high school I joined the newspaper and found a passion that I had never felt before, Through reporting, I found a new way to have a voice and gain confidence through knowledge. No feeling compared to that of picking up my first copy and seeing my article in print. I still remember the distinct smell of fresh ink that filled the room, and the residue left on my fingers as a result of quickly flipping the pages. Being on the newspaper allowed me to help other students and community members understand topics that would ordinarily be more difficult to comprehend. As a reporter, I saw it as my duty to take information and make it accessible to all. The more I learned about the world, the more I wanted to write about it, and share with anyone I could. I wanted to get rid of the impression that news was boring and difficult, and show how everything that happens in the world does affect us, whether it is immediately apparent or not.
Today, I am an English major with a dream of writing for a newspaper in the future. I’ve been told countless times that this isn’t a practical career, that it’s hard to make a living out of it, etc. At the end of the day, however, I know that this is where my passion lies and it is what I want to do. And I firmly believe that if something sticks with you this long, it is meant to be. So here’s to all the readers who have become writers; may your pencils and minds always be sharp.
