When I was twelve, I wanted to be my sixteen-year-old sister (the taller girl on the right with the totally hot date). I crept into her bedroom in the morning and snuck clothes out of her closet. I stole her books... and returned them after I'd read them. I fell in love with her boyfriends (and there were lots). I even listened to the same radio station because if she listened to that weird alternative stuff, like Depeche Mode and Gene loves Jezebel, then it was the ultimate cool.
Jump ahead thirteen years. My sister decided to be a writer of novels and asked if I wanted to be one too. I was doubtful of my own abilities (failed 9th grade english, didn't go to college) but if she was going to do it, obviously it was the ultimate ULTIMATE cool. That night I sat down and wrote my first page.
Dude. Thanks for the lifelong inspiration, Sue! Hope you have a happy belated Birthday.