The Conversion of a Girl into a Bibliophile

I'm a self-proclaimed bibliophile, and anyone who's been around me long enough will confirm this declaration. 

I love books. I love their smell. I love their crinkly texture. But most importantly, I love the content found within their pages. 

You get the idea. 

I at first hated books. For one, my parents never bothered to instill the habit of reading in me, but I also never gave it the time of day. What I didn't know, however, was that I had yet to stumble across a book I'd fall in love with, a book that would pique my curiosity and capture my attention.  

My first encounter with books took place at the local library where I was a volunteer for the summer. It was July and, as is so often the case with most 13-year-olds, all I wanted was to ensconce myself on the couch before the TV and enjoy the shows I'd been unable to watch during the school year. Needless to say, my mother didn't approve. She wasn't very fond of the idea of having a 13-year-old dawdle the day away, and she therefore took it upon herself to find something productive for me to do. She suggested I enroll in summer school, but I balked at the idea. Who wanted to spend summer sitting in a classroom while all the other kids enjoyed themselves on the beach? Exactly. So the library became my one and only option. The air-conditioned building also came as a blessing, for temperatures didn't cease soaring that summer. But the real blessing was yet to come. 

I was assigned a mentor who was, unsurprisingly, a bookworm. She would talk long and passionately about her favorite books and authors--which mostly consisted of vampire fiction--and I would hang on her every word. I was intrigued. Her passion soon led me to check out my very first vampire book: Vampire Kisses by Ellen Schreiber, which tells the story of a goth girl who falls in love with a Romanian vampire. Clichéd? Yes. But it was also riveting.

It wasn't until years later that I began to realize Vampire Kisses set me on the path to a life of reading. 

Shortly thereafter, I began to devour every novel I could find--be it fiction or non-fiction. I was determined to expand my mind, to absorb knowledge, and to meet characters far more interesting than your average Joe (unbeknownst to me, I would soon come to appreciate the art of novel writing). 

Life's too short to read every book that's ever been written, and that's a very depressing thought. It is also sad to think that some people treat books as they would a virus: with fear and repulsion. But what's the source of this fear and intimidation? Is it the fact that they have yet to fall in love with a story? Or is it because they've never been accustomed to daily reading? Or are they simply not interested? Maybe they just need their own mentor nudging them in the right direction.  

I remember I would spend my Christmas and birthday money on books--mostly vampire fiction (thank you, Geisha)--and I wouldn't regret it. In fact, I brimmed with happiness. 

Clothes didn't matter. Shoes seemed dull. And parties were chaotic locations where teen angst permeated the air. But books were life itself. They were the ambrosia my soul yearned for--my own godly dose of enlightenment. They were my sole friends (yes, I must admit I was a bit of a loner). But above all, they comforted me, pulled me out of the dark abyss into which I had fallen, and inspired me to pursue a writing career. 

And for that, I am very grateful.