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copyrighted 2012 by melaniechrismer

Writing is a hoot but sometimes you have to promote.  That’s the business and so I’m at TLA.

The Texas Library Association conferences are amazing.  Hundreds of booths, thousands of people, and tens of thousands of books.  But most of them are in competition with yours.  No matter, the atmosphere is energizing.

This is just Tuesday.  The full conference opens tomorrow and by Friday I’ll be fried.

Thankfully, if you have a real friend (like Sherry Garland) sharing the moments–shoulder to shoulder in the conference trenches (author signings) you start planning the next year usually by Saturday.

It’s great to see so much excitement about reading.  Hooray, TLA!–mc

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The Beginning

So anyway… here’s my first blog post.

I love to write but I prefer to not write about myself.  Stories spin in my head and I know they develop from the millions of experience tendrils, but hey–I like to think they sprout on their own.  That being said here’s a tiny retrospective.  It may be a solo event.

I started out as a poor reader.  Elementary school was a fun place except when we were forced to read.

I know, I know.  You can’t learn without reading but I was an ‘A’ student in everything but.  I checked out more books than others so that I would look like I was a reader.  I pretended that I was done, when sharing a text book with another student, just to hide the fact that I was a super slow reader.  My comprehension was minimal but my imagination was amazingly accurate.  Once I received a B+ for a skit I wrote, supposedly based on my research of the explorer La Salle.  It was an exciting play but I was shocked and relieved when my skit, loosely based on the pirate movie I’d watched over the weekend, turned out to have enough similarities that my teacher was delighted.  I loved to write and I loved imagination.  (Of course that’s still true.)  Sometimes, whew, they pulled me out of deep crevices.

So anyway… I survived elementary school but my reading needed help.  It took a while before I discovered that if I wanted to enjoy those pirate stories, great imaginary places, and write about even more, I’d have to improve my reading.

Reading and writing are welded together; inseparable for the better.  As a writer, boy am I glad I became a reader, too.


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