Reading has always been an important part of my life. As a child, I read prolifically. I think people who write tend to be people who read.

 I also read extremely quickly. Part of this was due to my first movie experience.  Understand, up till age eight or so, I had not been allowed to watch TV. My parents read aloud to me every night and I supplemented with my own favorite books. My life was filled with very real imaginary people, challenges and games.  One day, my best friend invited me to the movies. Her father loved horror movies and the two had been going to horror movies together for several years. I had never been to a movie, so this was very exciting.  Thus, my first movie was “The Curse of the Werewolf”. Trapped in the movie seat, bombarded with sound, and horrifying sights, I was terrified. Being a polite and somewhat shy child, it did not occur to me complain. I sat frozen in my seat. The terror that enveloped me did not dissipate when the movie ended.   In fact, I was so terrified that I went home, ran a fever and became violently ill. I could not sleep that night or for many nights after. I even had trouble stringing sentences together.  However, I devised a charm that would keep me safe.  IF I could read past midnight, the werewolf wouldn’t find me. So, after my parents said good night to me, with me smiling innocently back at them – but drenched in sweat under the covers, I would leap up and grab armfuls of books from the bookshelf. Adult books, children’s books, Freud, Jung, it didn’t matter.  I just had to keep reading and turning the pages until 1:00 or so.  The charm must have worked because I’m alive to tell the tale, not lying in some dark alley with my throat ripped out. The upside is that I learned to read very quickly at a relatively young age.  It took me over two years to overcome my terror of werewolves and dark blood thirsty things lurking in the shadows. In retrospect,  I think “Bambi” would have been a more suitable first movie for an eight year old child.