My parents both work in the media - my mom is a journalist and my dad edits footage for the Austrailian Broadcasting news agency. Thus, from the moment I came into the word, I was surrounded by people who not only read, but also wrote for a living.
"Goodnight Moon" was my favorite book growing up. Now, my parents always regale me with stories about how they would read this book to me before bedtime, and we would say goodnight to all the objects in the room. "Goodnight, bed!" "Goodnight, chair!" Goodnight, Ami"
Began school. Went to a Quaker pre-school for two years. I don't remember reading books here, but I used to draw a lot of pictures. At the top, I would always sign my name, only it was backwards: "IMA".
Started elementary school. Did not like my Kindergarten teachers, and I didn't understand how to count
In first grade, our class put on an event where we would each invite our parents or special friends to school and read a book with them. Not only could my parents not come, but this was also the day I realized how difficult it was for me to read, and I watched other students sitting in their parent's lap reading books like "Little House on the Prairie". I was disappointed.
I had a green journal I used to carry with me to school. During recess and after school, I would sit and write stories about girls and dolphins and all the other host of characters little girls like to dream about. One day, a boy in my class saw me writing in my green journal, and made fun of me. I think that may have been the last time I wrote in my notebook. It was definitely the last time I brought it to school.
For my birthday, my grandma got me a subscription to "Stone Soup", a literary magazine featuring aspiring authors and illustrators ages 10-13. Reading these made me want to publish my own work, but I never mustered up the courage to try.
This is my dad's favorite book, and it was the first book I remember being read to me. My brother and I shared a room, and we would stay up late listening to my dad read about Bilbo and his adventures. There were also pictures in the copy my dad was reading to us, and I remember eagerly awaiting these pages, to see what I was hearing about transcribed into real renderings
My parents got me a reading tutor named Marcy. She came to our house once or twice every week, and we would read together. She was the one who turned me onto the "Chicken Noodle Soup for the Soul" books.