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I learned to read out of spite. My older sister had been attempting to teach me to read with Dr. Seuss and Richard Scary books for several weeks when one night she refused to provide any further instruction. She would no longer sit beside me at bed time and flip through the pages, enunciating the words, pointing to the corresponding pictures, tucking me in when I drifted off. I was on my own. Enraged, I banished her from my room--I do remember slamming the door, thrashing blankets around, tears--and picked up Go Dog, Go! Reading it on my own was an act of sheer hatred, intended to prove to my sister, the entire world, that I needed no one. They could all fall off the face of the planet. I had found my new family among the dogs of Go, Dogs Go! joining them as they raced their cars for the party at the top of the tree, the climactic finish to the book. I vowed to never come down from that tree, to live in the world of dogs until the end of time.
It took many years before I realized how susceptible I am to reverse psychology, that my sister had played me masterfully.
My sister definitely deserves credit for this. Teaching me to read at such a young age, before I'd even entered first grade totally screwed up my life. I was so far ahead of the other kids when I started school, I became an immediate slacker. It set the pattern and so retarded my progress that by the time I reached adulthood, I definitely needed a career in a profession requiring no credentials or qualifications. Journalism fit the bill.



About a month ago, we held a very unconventional editorial meeting. At our publisher's invitation, we headed to "that most traditional of publishing environments"-the pub-and sat down to talk about a rather non-traditional publishing topic-the Kama Sutra. It was a cozy gathering at the Pitcher and Piano. There's something about stepping outside the office that always gets the inspirational juices flowing.










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