I can remember—almost to the moment—the day I discovered my love for writing. I was in the third grade, and at the completion of a week of state testing, our teacher let us pick a prize from a table of knick-knacks. I turned in my test and walked up to the table and surveyed the loot: pencils, erasers, stickers, finger puppets, bouncy balls–so many fun little things to choose from. I was eyeing a particularly sparkly sticker sheet when my teacher said, "Hang on a moment. I think I have something you'll like much more." He walked over to his desk and returned with a red composition notebook. He was right. I liked that prize much more, and I filled that notebook from cover-to-cover.
Since then (and probably before then, too) I've had an unending love and appreciation for both reading and writing, and can...