My Earliest Memories...

When I was little, my mother would read books to me before I went to bed. She read various books to me, such as This is the House Where Jack Lives, Green Eggs and Ham, Fox in Socks, and books from The Bernstein Bears series. I was fascinated by the words and pictures in those books, and these fascinations inspired me to pick up a book and start reading myself, in addition to drawing.

I do not remember the first book I read by myself, but I do remember reading constantly. After a couple of years of reading whatever I could find, I began creating my own stories. I used my father’s computer to write hundreds of stories, mostly short and somewhat unfinished, and printed them out where they are still stored to this day in a couple of plastic organizing containers. Reading and writing in school also helped me delve deeper into the world of literature. In kindergarten and elementary school, not only did we read books daily, we had composition journals for us to draw in. I wrote many stories in those journals, accompanied by my illustrations.

In addition to myself, my siblings were also influenced by literature. My mother read to them too, especially my little brother. My siblings also began to read at a young age, and wrote their own stories accompanied with illustrations.

My childhood, in my opinion, was dominated by books. I still read consistently today, and sometimes I reflect back onto my stories written in the past. I even continued unfinished stories until other desires and assignments consumed my attention. However, if it were not for my mother reading those books to me, I most likely would not have discovered this wonderful world of literature until many years later.