Despite appearances, I know what it’s like to be a kid.
A kid who spent most of her days lingering in the shadows, desperate to blend in, yet desperate to stand out.
The world is a big place to a kid; ginormous. Unscalable. And mine was as big and as scary as they get. My father was an alcoholic and my mother—for all her efforts—tried, but failed at protecting me and my siblings from my father’s wrath and his acrid tongue. The emotional scars ran deeper than the ocean in my youth.
As a child I didn’t feel as if I had a voice. Most kids don’t. It’s a painful fact of life when you’re a kid (and adult’s alike). The majority of parents do their best, some don’t. Some parents grow up thinking things happen because of them and not to them and sadly perpetuate the cycle of blame. Sad, but true.
I lived inside my head—my imagination. Only my imagination didn’t soar through the clouds like supergirl nor did it own a magic wand that made her special. Its beliefs were flawed. It saw itself as an the outsider, as that little girl who stood outside the window of a house while gazing longingly in at a party in full swing. The shrieks of laughter would ring inside her ears as she stood alone. Uninvited.
I lived inside my head—my imagination. Only my imagination didn’t soar through the clouds like supergirl nor did it own a magic wand that made her special
My imagination had nowhere to go other than inside a black hole. As a kid we only had four TV channels (yes, TVs where in colour back then, although I did have a small portable black and white TV in the bedroom I shared with my older sister). We also had a weekly video-man who would bring VHS videos to our house in a large brown suitcase. On a good week, we were allowed two videos, one if not. That aside - I had no other creative inlet.
The point I’m making is this: without storytelling the imagination can’t see beyond the small window of our worlds. Books cultivate the imagination, they give you access to a safe space where you can explore your thoughts and feelings without having to explain yourself to others. You get to wear another kids’ Nikes and see how they fit. Empathy and intelligence come as standard and the world suddenly becomes a less scarier place. Books can be therapeutic. They can heal in the same way music does.
Plus, it’s so much fun to unite with like-minded people. It’s where your tribe hangs out. What’s not to like about that? But most importantly, it helps you to create a world of your liking; a world where you’re the hero and no-one can tell you otherwise.
But here’s a weird FACT about me: up until the age of 11, I hated reading. I found it stifling and boring! Yep. I said the B-word: boring! I was ‘forced’ to read books that just didn’t spark my imagination (I say ‘forced’ because it felt like that at the time, but really, it was just my mum trying to do her best).
And then one day it happened: high school, year one (or seven to you uber, cool youngsters). It was an average double period English lesson where were required to read a book followed by a review. I’d winged it so far by reading the jacket blurb and the beginning and end chapters to get the jist. I was getting by. Just.
Then something magical happened. I stumbled upon Roald Dahl’s, The Witches. (Still one of my favourite storytellers). Hello new world! Hello the power of my imagination. And just like that, I discovered my voice and that spark that made me want to read a book.
I discovered a world where I could do, be or have anything I wanted, including chocolate cake for breakfast!
I was the smart one, the adventurous one. I walked with giants and fought along side superheroes to save the world. I waved a magic wand and transported myself into weird and wonderful worlds. I stood up to the bullies. I relished in escaping the life as an underdog. I found ‘me’ in amongst those earlier books as I got to explore relationships through the stories in Sweet Valley High, Sweet Dreams and Judy Blume (I still remember giggling over the sex scene in Forever) to name a few.
I dared to dream a dream. To be a writer and write stories that inspire. It’s my time to give back.
The fact is: being a child means you don’t always get to make the choices you want. It’s a fact that goes hand in hand with growing up (sorry kids!). But what reading can give you is the freedom to let your imagination run wild. Want cake for breakfast — no problem. How many slices would you like? You want to soar through the clouds on the back of a Black Terror Bettle, your wish is my command, or perhaps you want to be a warrior, or experience the giddy feeling of your first real kiss.
And I can give you that. Through my adventurous tales of magic.
I’m still that quiet, nerdy, tom-boy of a girl who loves to read and write and I’m damn proud of her. But more importantly I am damn proud of you. For being here with me, for this is my belief: reading creates BIG THINKERS and big thinkers, CHANGE THE WORLD.
Or, if you like sums: imagination + creativity ÷ big thinking = CHANGING THE WORLD. YOUR WORLD.
Be your own hero.
So, are you ready to travel into my world? A world of magic, mischief and mayhem? If so, then read on here.