This past weekend, I got lost in a good book. And it was like coming home to a long-lost friend.
The past 4-5 months prior to this weekend, I hadn’t so much as touched anything but my Bible. Now, reading that is always a noble pursuit, but I used to love getting lost in a book. I can still remember the hours as a pre-teen and teen when I would lay in my bed and devour a whole series in as little time as a few days. I remember countless nights where I would stay up until 2 or 3am, hiding out in the bathroom or under the covers, trying to just finish one more chapter. I wouldn’t be able to keep my eyes open for one more second, but I would push my way through just to find out what would happen next.
It was those nights, those stories, that inspired me to be a writer, get my degree in creative writing, and put the dream of writing my own book in my heart.