My love affair with literature did not match my poor background. During childhood I didn’t have access to fiction books. They were expensive, and my parents worked hard to buy the necessary—and boring!—books I needed for school: Maths, Physics, Chemistry, and other textbooks. Then, I was still young when I had to put my love for literature aside and focus on working. Time escaped me, as if it were water I was trying to hold in my hands, and there wasn’t enough room for my dreams.
Nevertheless, that very life which changed the course of everything, in another turning point put me back on track, facing my old and striking love: Fiction, or more specifically, young-adult fiction.
As the workaholic I used to be, I saw my world turn upside down when the doctor said I was pregnant but the pregnancy was at risk. I would have to stay home, rest, and take it really easy if I wanted to hold my baby. At first, I thought it was awesome to spend some weeks doing nothing except eating junk food and watching every TV show I fancied. But the days went by taking away my patience. After one month in bed I was at the edge of depression. Then my husband—and a superhero—took action. I’ll never forget the day he got home with a present for me. It was wrapped in a beautiful paper, and he had this mischievous smile in his face:
“You’ve overslept too much. It’s time you start dreaming.”
As I unwrapped the package I saw my great love blinking at me. It was a fiction book! And it was a young-adult fiction book!
And from that moment on I simply devoured a huge amount of books. Maybe it makes sense telling you this: I read almost 100 books in a year. Isn’t that crazy? Yeah… But it’s true. And the rest are only details.
And here I am!