In the small town where I grew up, there was a used book store next to the place where my mom got her hair done. While she was getting dolled up, I’d sit on the floor of the bookstore, browsing through their pile of old comics. (This was the mid 1970s.)
As I got older, I started to earn a bit of money from doing chores or working in the nearby fields. When I got money, I bought comics. I’d trade my stuff to friends for THEIR comics. In our house, it was a tradition that if one of us three boys was sick, we could ask mom to pick us up something at the store. This was supposed to mean ice cream or popsicles or sugary breakfast cereal, but I always asked her to buy me a comic book instead.
As I grew up, I drifted away from comics…for a little while. During high school and college, I was too cool for comics. I didn’t read them. But after college, once I found out the local public library had comics, I was back to my old ways.
Eventually, I had amassed a huge collection of comics. Only sold them in 2013 or 2014.
All this is to say: Comics have had a deep and lasting impact on my life. Comics taught me to read. And comics taught me to write. In fact, any success I’ve had as a blogger I credit to the lessons I learned from comic books.