Growing up our bookshelves were green. They took up the majority of a wall in the rumpus room downstairs, and I often remember my Dad standing in front of them, figuring out what he would read next. As I grew older, I would go to my Dad and ask him what I should read. He’d take me downstairs, and, seemingly at random, pluck something off the shelf. But he was always right. The first ‘adult’ book I remember him giving me was Bonjour Tristesse by Francoise Sagan. This easily became, and still is, one of my favourite books. When I had finished and I went to give it back to him, he refused to take it. This still continues, and is the reason my own (now blue) bookshelf is becoming rather full.
I thank my parents, especially Dad, for my love of books, and for being the main reason I’m choosing to study towards a career in publishing.
This isn't my blue bookshelf, but I wish sometimes that is was.
This blog will probably be full of ramblings, but hopefully some interesting things will filter through. But, hey, I figured that's ok, I live by Ray Bradbury's words when it comes to writing: "Write only what you love, and love what you write. The word is love. You have to get up in the morning and write something you love, something to live for."