I blogged at Cobblestone Press' blog today, but I wanted to post something a little more personal here.
I learned my love of reading from my mom, who read to us children often. When I started reading books of my own, I would curl up with her on the couch and we'd read together, even when we read separate books. She drove me to the library to get more books, and she was always willing to talk about whatever I was reading.
I grew up watching her write as well as read. She wrote poetry and essays, and has won statewide contests for her poetry. When I wrote my first suspense story as a kid (maybe 11 or 12) and wanted to enter it in a contest, she didn't discouraged me from entering, even though she must have known I had no chance of winning. I treasure that memory now--I didn't win, but it meant so much that she was willing to let me try. I only wish I still had that story. Maybe I'll find it someday in a box somewhere.
My mom is on a trip to England, and the one thing I asked her to get me was a nice bookmark. Reading is still something we share. Thank you, Mom, for sharing your love of reading, writing, and for so much more!