And apparently I am not the only one to feel this way. On the recommendation of my Aunt Kathie, I started reading this book that has made me feel a whole lot less isolated and I found camaraderie with its author.
First, let me pay tribute to my Aunt Kathie, who is an amazing writer! She has written a book that she had bound, but not published and I really wish she would. She is brilliantly creative. When I read words penned by her, they melt comfortably into the recesses of my imagination, painting a vivid, unforgettable picture. I hold her responsible for my desire to write and I hold her equally accountable for my love of reading. She single handedly turned me into a book worm. I used to hate reading. My parents didn’t push reading very much and the school’s required reading made me want to run screaming to the nurse’s office swearing to a litany of rare and incurable diseases. But my sensational aunt gave me a book she thought I would like, The Notebook by Nicholas Sparks, and I was SOLD. I couldn’t believe someone could write words so poignantly. I connected to this story on a profound level and I wanted more. And so began my love affair with words.
Stephanie D. Birch is a neurotic artist of ink and paper and she likes it that way. To hear more about the voices in her head, or to read a sample of her work, email her at firstname.lastname@example.org