We are a family of geeks (of varying degrees of dorkiness). We gather ’round the television to watch Doctor Who every week. We all have our favorite fandoms, and many of them overlap. Our household is fluent in movie quotes, TV catchphrases, and general geekery. Being the mean mother that I am, I make my children read regularly. (THE HORROR!!) I’m always pushing my favorites on them (because I am a pusher, I push people). Though they regularly complain, once they’re finished, they usually find me to discuss what they’ve read.
My favorite books as a young child were the ones filled with fairy tales and fables. In my teen years, I filled my bookshelf with novels, sure that short stories would not give me the deep connection with characters that I craved then. My late twenties, however, found me busy with a family of young children, and desperate to read something, anything. (Re)Enter the short story. It was around this time I picked up a copy of The Illustrated Man, and I was hooked. Eventually I branched out into other authors, then other genres. Now, I see my children approaching the age I was when I lost my love for the short story. My goal is to keep that love alive.