I have an addiction. Well, several of them, truth be told. However, we all have addictions or guilty little pleasures. Coffee, pastries and chocolate of any form are among some my beloved addictions. Pursuing the book aisle is one of my everlasting favorites. Be it a physical or virtual bookstore, it matters not. I will spend countless hours in search of my next fix.
At best guestimate I would say I have read into the tens of thousands of books over the course of my life and have learned not all are created equal. Like the junkie I am, I discovered not every book published had the magic I was searching for. You know what it is I speak of. That high where the author had enraptured me and was able to take me away to the world they have created. Their paracosms.
Recently, I had ordered the first book of a popular trilogy from Amazon. The consumer reviews were excellent, so much so there is a movie being made based upon the books. Curious to see what the fuss was all about, I dove right in, eager to feel the rush, the high. I felt the disappointment of the crash and could not finish the first book. A highly unusual occurrence leaving my addiction unfed and restless.
On the other end of the scale, I had come across an author, Sierra Dean. She so delighted me, capturing my imagination in the first paragraph. The effervescent excitement was so great, I had to reread it. Twice. I then was compelled to share my high with Frank, reading it aloud to him. From the first paragraph of the first book in the series, she had me hooked.
But, before there was Sierra Dean, Nora Roberts and Stephen King, I was introduced to one of the best storytellers of all time. When we were children, my brother, Dan, was given a set of Louis L’Amour books by our Grandpa Heinrich. I promptly borrowed them, (indefinitely, I believe) and that ignited my passion for the written word, my addiction was born.
Mr. L’Amour hooked me with his first book and I have greedily consumed nearly everything he had ever written. I wonder if I hadn’t felt the magic from Mr. L’Amour, would I still have a love of reading today? Would I have an appreciation for not just authors, but storytellers?
So, I have read a lot of books. And, if I am to be honest, I have a secret (perhaps not so secret now) dream of writing a couple myself–if only to exorcise stories I have locked inside my mind. But, more on that another time.
Are you, too, addicted to fiction? Do you remember the first time you felt the magic of “that first hit”? You can share your story with me; this is a safe place.