writers as readers

            1.     When I’m wanting to be able to focus on my reading and plan on reading for a long period of time, I must be comfortable. Dressing down in some comfy lounge wear is a need. Also, I need a comfortable seat and scenery that’s calm. I typically like to have a little background music, but it can’t be any songs I know too well, otherwise ill end up singing along. Once these needs are met, I can read for hours and hours.

7.    I remember the first book I truly read as a child, was Because of Winn Dixie by Kate DiCamillo. I had saw the movie a dozen times, and one day at Barnes and Nobles I saw the book and decided I wanted it. Notice how I said I only wanted it, not that I planned on reading it. But for unknown reasons, I began reading it and couldn’t stop. I loved the book. My mom, being the nosey woman she is, noticed this and was absolutely thrilled. She was so happy because my older sister hated reading, and had feared I would turn out the same way. So seeing me actually read and enjoy this chapter book at such a young age, gave her hope. But her obsessing over the fact I enjoyed reading, leads me to believe that that’s the reason I refused to really read anything again until I hit high school. I know she didn’t mean to obsess over it so much that I get sick of reading, but it happened.

4.    One of my best memories connected with reading involves my wonderful grandma. I remember I used to spend the night at her house all the time, and every night we would read three children’s books of my choice. She always had the funniest selection of books, but every time I would choose the same three. I don’t recall the names, but I do the stories. It’s not only the hilarious stories the stand out to me, but the scene and the woman reading them. We would sit down in her living room and she would read these books to me using different voices for each character, making me laugh. Sometimes, to this day, I still make her read them to me.

9. When I finished reading The Great Gatsby, I was very upset. I was sad because he died for the wrong reasons, pissed because it was all Daisy’s fault and she couldn’t care less, and happy because even though Gatsby died, he died with hope that the phone call was form Daisy.