Photo by juliaf/stockxchang.comThe year I learned to read, our family moved to the suburbs of Vancouver, Washington, right across the street from a well-stocked library. Cara Newell, the grandmotherly librarian, became my best friend. She let me check out approximately two books a day, followed by leisurely discussions about their content.
For a while, my life goal became to establish a floating library houseboat up and down the mighty Columbia River, bringing books to people who had none. Then, during the third grade, I began writing about anything and everything.
Reading expands our world, letting us share amazing armchair adventures of Hillary climbing Everest or Armstrong walking on the moon. Besides letting us travel to other cultures and times, reading fills our hunger and thirst for knowledge with unending reservoirs of wonderful new experiences.
Years ago while working as a receptionist in Texas for a prestigious international real estate firm, I was allowed to read while I covered the phones over lunch hour. One day I chose Peter Freuchen's nonfiction Book of the Eskimos. I instantly became absorbed in blood-chilling, life-threatening white-out Arctic blizzard conditions defying survival. Winds howled so fiercely that those braving the storm had to walk bent over, almost lying down on the wind, to gain each step forward.
At that precise moment, with swirling winds howling their fiercest, Bart, the comptroller, and Joe, the vice president, flung open the office door and strode in. Horrified that they ventured into blizzard conditions without coats, I looked up and asked, "Joe! Bart! Where are your parkas?"
They never let me live that down.
As an author, Freuchen succeeded in creating writing magic--bringing me fully into the world of his story.
As we spread our wings to share our love for writing, may our described experiences also be so vivid that our readers equally savor the reality of our writing world.
~Delores Topliff














