So I missed a day. It’s still Thursday in WA. Already Friday in the eastern states. Yesterday, despite a full day of workshops, racing to the airport and catching a plane, I thought I’d still be able to write a blog post.

I’m down in Albany, a gorgeous deep water port in the south of WA. Late last night, when I tried to connect to the internet in my cozy accommodation, the internet was down. Suddenly, the notion that June was a good month to post a new blog every day seemed crazily ambitious. I’ll be scooting all over WA in the course of the next few weeks so perhaps some days will have to just slip through the net.

Today I spent all day working with some very inspiring young writers from across the region. One of the criteria for joining the writing workshops is that you be an avid reader so the sessions always start with the students talking about what they’ve been reading and discussing new discoveries.

When Lesley Reece, the FCLC Director, asked the group if any of them remembered being read to when they were younger, nearly all of them put their hands up. When she asked how many had mothers who read to them there was the same response. When she asked how many had fathers who read to them there was a slightly smaller show of hands, but interestingly, nearly all the boys put their hands up. Do readers breed readers or is a love of books and stories something we learn in our parent’s arms? Perhaps it’s simply as powerful as growing up in a house in which books have a place, in which they are loved and appreciated.

Kirsty is an Australian author of books for children and young adults.

“Every adult was once a child and the child inside them never completely disappears.”

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