The one thing you will find as a common thread along my reading autobiography is a penchant for choosing fantastical journeys, adventures, and magic over nearly anything else.
I have read many books in my life. Many, many, many books. I would go so far as to say that I read more books in a year than the average american does in 10-15 years, if not more. I started reading when I was very young–and not just pointing at a picture book I’d memorized by driving my mother half to madness, actually reading words–and I’ve never stopped. If you were to look at a list of books I’ve read (sidenote: I wish I had a list of all the books I’ve read), you’d find an incredible array of styles, authors, types, and age ranges. From D’aulaires Greek Myths to Arthur Ransom’s Swallows and Amazons, I have devoured books of every kind. I still reread these books, and find new ones, and reread the new ones.
But I come back to fantasy, even now. My tastes have changed in some ways–dystopian novels have snuck into the realm of fairies and unicorns, as have science fiction novels–yet I still have an overwhelming love for a book about otherness. About the endless possibilities of humanity, the endless possibilities of our universe, and the dark sides within both us and all existing space as a whole. For every darkness internal or external, there is a powerful and overwhelming sense of goodness and rightness coupled with our abilities to shape our worlds into something beautiful.
Make your world beautiful today.