Harry Potter--my first love affair

If you had to chose one word to describe me, it would probably be "obsessive." Doctor Who, Star Wars, Percy Jackson...you've seen my obsessions grow and fade and change. But what started it all? What was my very first obsession?

You might also chose the word "writer," to describe me (that is, if you know me very well). Anyone who has spent lots of time around me knows that I spend an average of two to four hours a day writing--minimum. But it wasn't always like that. I can remember a time when I hated writing. What launched my life as a writer?

Harry Potter.

My love affair with Harry Potter began at age 6. Back then, I avoided writing like the plague. I also avoided a large thick book called "Harry Potter." When I was five, I saw the first movie. Terrified of the scenes with Voldy, I refused to read the book--though, already an avid reader, the long chapters, beautiful binding,and thick width called out to me. Still, a timid girl (not at all a Gryffindor), I was afraid, and simply did not want to risk being frightened by the story.

Near the end of Kindergarten, Order of the Phoenix came out. My mum and dad paid no attention to me the night the book came out, each reading their own copy. Climbing on to the couch next to my dad, I asked him to read it to me. He obliged. After the first chapter, I realized it wasn't too scary after all, and decided to read the first book.

I can still remember the look on my school librarian's face on the first day of first grade library.
"Excuse me, where are the Harry Potter books?"
"Aren't you a little young to read those books?"
"Yes, well, I'm reading the third one at home with my Mummy, but I really want to read ahead at school."
From that moment on, I was "Harry Potter girl." Everyone at school knew me as that. No one dared to rival my obsession with HP. I played Harry Potter during recess with my friends, wore cloaks to school nearly every day, drew lightning bolts on my notebooks, and even signed my name as Hermione on school papers. In fifth grade, when everyone else began to read the lengthy books, I was the one they came to when they couldn't find the Harry Potter books in the school library.

What does this all have to do with my writing, you might ask. Recall that in Kindergarten, I despised writing. When I completed the first Harry Potter book, my life changed. I wanted to spin a story, just as Joanne Rowling had. I wanted to change a girl's life through my words, just as she had.

Now, writing defines who I am.

Sadly, the tales of Harry Potter now come to a close. I saw the almost-midnight premiere (12:00 was sold out, so we saw it at 12:35) this morning, and the movie was beautiful and fabulous and dramatic and special, just like it should be. I don't cry during movies, ever. But I did cry during this one. Just like when I read Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows for the first time, it was the first book to ever make me cry.

I'll hold on to Ravenclaw scarf and sweater, my old, much-to-short Hogwarts Robe, my wand, my time-turner, my broomsticks, my owl and her Harry Potter-style cage forever, because if obsessions define who I am, then Harry Potter defines me more than anything else. My first obsession. My first me.

Long live Harry Potter.