How Reader Girl Got Her Groove Back

Eventually I had to admit that I was going through a literary depression. But I trudged along dutifully until the day I had one of them there Joycean epiphanies—I couldn't remember the last time I had stayed up reading into the squeaky hours of the night because I couldn't bear to put the book down.

How had that happened? I searched my memory for the last time reading had been a pleasure: age 15. Fantasy had been my favorite genre back then, so I checked out a few fantasies from my library. On the sly, of course. I read them huddled in my bed, nightlight and all. And felt punched in the gut. I'd been spoiled by all that fine literature and couldn't read past the sometimes unpolished and awkward writing enough to enjoy the story.

Well then, I thought, pulling myself up by my boot straps (oh, for genuine boot straps!), if your ideal book isn't out there, then go write it.

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