There are some fortunate enough to have been born with the gift and desire to read.
Those lucky ones seemed to just fall into books, making their way through the Jack and Jills of their early landscape to the tops of Tolkien before they had barely broken ten fine summers. Witchcraft, I tell thee! My little bit of magic came much later with the help of a scribe named William Shakespeare and two young ‘star-crossed’.
In my less than salad days, I find that I need the nutrition of munching on a tome everyday. I tome in the morning, I tome during the hours of work, and I tome when I return home. And as I tome I dream of others reading mine. I am a man who comes pre-tomed; they sit in my digital waiting room ready for action.
In the meantime, I write this blog. It’s a sort of work out, a reminder that I have committed myself to the goal of one day being a self-supported writer. I am a dreamer and the dreams that I dream do not have me ending my days in Gin Alley bemoaning the fact that I could have been a contender.
Anyway, the bullseye of this blog, this tiny post, is to thank the secret reader who is munching their way through my archives. They are not commenting or even liking, but their presence has been felt and my gratitude is being sent.