While marking a milestone birthday a few years ago, I found myself transported back in time – back to the day I received my very first book, sometime around age nine or ten. It wasn’t a library book or something I had to leave behind in the classroom. This one was mine to keep and treasure.

That book, New Maggie Muggins by Canadian author Mary Grannan, featured a freckled little girl with pigtails and plenty of personality. Its short stories were perfect for a young daydreamer like me. Though its dust jacket is long gone, the red hardcover has stood the test of time and still sits proudly on my shelf more than 50 years later.

My shelves now overflow with books from many genres, but that first one marked the beginning of something sacred: reading as both an escape as well as inspiration.

A Solitary Joy

As an adolescent, I quickly discovered I loved being alone with a good book. I didn’t yet know the term “introvert,” but I knew I thrived in solitude – curled up in a quiet corner, disappearing into the lives of fictional characters. My parents, navigating life in a new country while raising their only daughter after three sons, had strict rules. I used books to imagine the adventures I wasn’t having. I figured, If I can’t go out and live it, at least let me read about it.

From Entertainment to Emotion

In my early twenties, I devoured the works of Sidney Sheldon – drawn in, no doubt, by the made-for-TV movies that accompanied his bestsellers. After him came Lawrence Sanders, with his clever and often hilarious detective Arch McNally. I loved mysteries then – stories that entertained, kept me guessing, and made the hours fly. These were my perfect daily companions on my commute to my job downtown.

I sought out authors whose names graced multiple spines on a shelf: Jeffrey Archer, John Grisham, James Robert Waller, Dan Brown. Their novels became my reading comfort food: reliable, entertaining, and alphabetically ordered on my shelves (except for the ones tucked neatly in wicker baskets, arranged by size, of course!).

When Characters Feel Like Friends

In my 30s and 40s, my reading tastes shifted. I began to gravitate toward character-driven novels that made me feel something deeper. Maeve Binchy quickly became a favorite. Her characters lingered in my mind long after the final page. I would catch myself wondering how they were doing – as if they were real people I should be checking in on.

Then came Isabel Allende’s Daughter of Fortune, books by Amy Tan’s The Joy Luck Club, and Rosamunde Pilcher’s The Shell Seekers – each one vivid, emotionally rich, and memorable. I still recall certain scenes as if they were memories from my own life. These books didn’t just entertain; they stirred my soul.  I sought these authors – and others in the piles at the used bookstores and book fairs.

Stories That Transform

As I moved into the next phase of life, my reading took another turn – toward inner exploration and spiritual growth. Over the past decade, I’ve immersed myself in the teachings of Wayne Dyer, Deepak Chopra, Neale Donald Walsch, and others. I wasn’t just reading anymore – I was searching.

Books like The Power of Intention, The Seven Spiritual Laws of Success, and Conversations with God gave me a new language: dharma, chakras, energy healing, consciousness. These words weren’t just buzzwords – they were invitations. These authors urged me to live on purpose, to love deeply, and to stop merely existing. I listened.

A Life Told in Books

Looking back through the lens of a writing challenge that spurred this blog a long while ago, I can see how my bookshelf is a kind of autobiography. From childhood stories to mysteries, from sweeping sagas to soulful teachings, each book has mirrored a part of my journey.

And yes – my bookshelves are still mostly in alphabetical order by author. Because let’s be honest, that’s the only way I can find anything!

I dreamt of one day owning a home with a tall library ladder like the one in My Fair Lady, where books line the walls, each one telling a piece of my story: the people I met in pages, the lessons I learned, the questions I dared to ask.  But I digress, and now happy – simply with my teak bookshelves purchased in the 1970s at Eaton’s department store in downtown Montreal, with a wee step ladder to reach the top shelves – because I only measure ‘five feet zero’!

The Ever-Unfolding Chapter

When I first wrote this blog in 2017, writing was becoming an everyday ritual – for fun and for supporting other businesses with web and social content. And, as life always does, things evolved. I have since self-published 2 books, and 2 colouring books containing supportive and inspiring affirmations for entrepreneurs.

On January 1^st 2025, I decided to join the Goodreads Reading Challenge, committed to reading 40 books this year.  It was a promise I made myself when filling my bookshelves, that many of these books would be enjoyed in retirement for me to enjoy and continue my journey in learning and exploring. I am juggling this reading challenge with home renovations, creative client work, and a meaningful new collaboration with someone who’s both client, friend and business partner. Life is full, but books remain my anchor. 

As I look around my home, I realize that reading has always been more than a pastime. It has been my portal, my refuge, my teacher, and sometimes even my mirror. From childhood wonder to spiritual exploration, each chapter in my reading life has reflected a chapter in my own becoming.

If you’ve ever found yourself transformed by the books you’ve read, perhaps it’s time to consider the story only you can tell. Whether scribbled in a journal, typed into a document, or whispered into a voice note, your experiences, lessons, and memories have value. You don’t need to be a bestselling author to share something meaningful. In fact, with the rise of self-publishing and digital platforms, creating an eBook or short memoir is more accessible than ever – and it doesn’t have to be scary. Start small, write honestly, and know this: someone out there is waiting to read your words, just as you’ve been moved by the words of others. Maybe it’s time to begin.