First off, I have a post at The Scribblers Cove today, too. Check it out.
Second off, (okay this should probably be first, but it looked better on the page this way) today is Kid D's Seventh Birthday. She woke up expecting magic. You could feel the anticipation in the air, see it in her missing-the-two-front-teeth grin, and taste it in the cake-and-frosting-rich air.
I asked her if she felt older, and she told me,"Yes! My legs are even longer. You can tell, see? My pajamas don't touch my feet like they did last night."
I smiled and smothered a laugh. You don't laugh at seven-year-olds on their birthdays, even if they are amusing.
Kid D's excitement made me think about books and writing. Don't act all surprised. Most things make me think of writing and books because that's how I roll.
Anywho, every time I pick up a book, I'm like Kid D. I expect magic. Not necessarily real magic with spells and wands and elves and such (though that doesn't hurt), but the magic and wonder of fantastic stories and amazing characters. I want to be transported to a new place, time, and setting. I want to feel like I'm seven and grew during the night only to wake up to balloons and cake. All of it for me.
I want to feel the emotions of characters. I want to experience fear, longing, love, adrenaline spikes, and warm fuzzies. I want to live between the covers with the characters.
I want the magic of a book.
What about you? What do you want when you open a book?