On Books, C.S. Lewis, and Growing Up

I love stories. Just not books, but stories. All people have stories to tell and I guess I just want to hear them all. This love began for me, at a very young age.

I owe it to three things.

One, A House of Stories:

C.S. Lewis once said:

“I am the product of long corridors, empty sunlit rooms, upstairs indoor silences, attics explored in solitude, distant noises of gurgling cisterns and pipes, and the noise of wind under the tiles. Also of endless books. There were books in the study, books in the drawing-room, books in the cloakroom, books (two deep) in the great bookcase on the landing, books in a bedroom, books piled as high as my shoulder in the cistern attic, books of all kinds reflecting every transient stage of my parents’ interests…”

Ever since I can remember my home has never lacked books and…I grew up loving books. Still to this day, reading is my number one hobby. I think one of the only ways kids grow up with a hunger for stories is if they grow up in a home filled with them and parents eager to share with them.

Two, Parents Eager to be Storytellers:

My Dad was always an amazing storytelling, whether it was randomly changing the lot of a book or making up books of his own. His creativity inspired me to want to write my own stories. I still remember the stories he would draw for us. He’d make up stories with us in them. I still remember him making up stories to go with the pictures in books. I’ve just been thinking lately of how my best childhood memories are reading books on my parents bed.

Or my Mom who would get books on tape for car trips, so even when we weren’t reading we would be filled with the beauty of good books.

Three, Narnia, Laura Ingalls, and Some Others:                                                                                                                                       

When I was about four or five, my dad started reading to us the Narnia series. I have to say that filled my entire childhood with quite the Narnia love. I’d love hearing those stories again and again. I am so grateful I was into such amazing stories growing up instead of the many things I could have filled my young life with.  I’m mostly just glad I learned young what story telling is.

I was always obsessed with Laura Ingalls Wilder and her stories. I was pretty consumed in wanting to live an old-fashioned life and that inspired a childhood of reading hundreds of Pioneer books and writing my own Pioneer stories.


For…I am the product of long reading sessions, a wonderful story-teller for a father, car rides listening to books on tape, and making forts with my brother and reading in them.  I owe my love of stories, literature, and books to my family. And to C.S. Lewis, who through writing Narnia gave me a very happy childhood.

If I ever become the writer I dream of being, I will be happily able to say that it was  because of a childhood of books, parents who invested their time in reading to me, and some amazing books that filled my early days with joy.


One thought on “On Books, C.S. Lewis, and Growing Up

  1. I inherited my love of literature from my parents too. =) they didn’t intentionally set out to make me a hard and heavy reader, but I was so surrounded and steeped in book people and worlds that I naturally fell into the kingdom of literature. Isn’t it a wonderful inheritance? xo

    p.s. love the new header, by the way!

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