Wannabe

Other than simply being the name of a popular song (if you don't know Wannabe by Spice Girls then you didn't have a childhood), this word summed up my supposed literary life until my last year in high school. I was a wannabe.

Everyone knew that I liked to read, so—to the teenage mind—I was obviously destined to be a writer, editor, inspirational speaker, librarian, teacher, or screenwriter. What everyone did not know was that I was a poser. Although I learned to love reading as a child (thanks mom for reading Redwall and Lloyd Alexander aloud to me), I only read books I wanted to read like Percy Jackson, Eragon, or Harry Potter. Rarely did I read any books that were outside of my preferred shelf at Barnes and Noble, even if they were assigned by a teacher (Sparknotes and I became fast friends at a relatively young age).

All of that changed my senior year of high school. My teacher was a baby-faced 26 year old straight out of grad school. He emailed us during the summer and assigned us reading to do before school started, who would do that? But, stuck in Utah with no friends while my siblings went on adult adventures, I caved and read one of the books on the list: Pride and Prejudice. My sour attitude changed quickly as I went from reading one page a day to fifty. Once I realized I loved it, my life as a wannabe was over, and my new literary life began.

Hearing everyone talk in class made me realize that my literary life may not be as expansive as many of the other students, but assured me that my love of reading is real (as evidenced by my bookshelf pictured below. Granted, my grandma recently moved and gave my sister and I more than half of these books).

My love for poetry has expanded since it was peaked by my mom’s constant misquoting of Emily Dickinson:

I’m Nobody! Who are you?

Are you – Nobody – too?

Then there’s a pair of us!

Don’t tell! they’d advertise – you know!

How dreary – to be – Somebody!

How public – like a Frog – 

To tell one’s name – the livelong June – 

To an admiring Bog!

Needless to say, I learned to shut my mouth if I was going to complain about being a nobody in a new school for the third time in three years. Fortunately for me, my siblings and books always kept me company until I found new friends.

Being labeled as an athlete for most of my life, I was slightly surprised when a friend told me that I was nerdy. She went on to explain that even though she hated reading, she had really enjoyed the books I recommended to her so I must be a pretty big nerd to have chosen such perfect books. At the time, I kind of shrugged it off.

I didn't fully embrace my inner nerd until my sophomore year at BYU. Due to some strange reason, my sister refused to read anything by Jane Austen because “it must be overrated.” For her, it was a matter of principle. For me, it was a challenge. I reread my worn copy of Pride and Prejudice, underlining comic lines and circling meaningful sentences. Through well-placed plugs for the book and the use of thoughtful quotes, I finally got my sister to cave. Now, two years later, Our individual copies sit (or rather fall apart) on our desks, a testament to our literary lives.