Obsession

I think it was around the time of middle school when I picked up my first James Patterson book. I was on vacation with my family in North Carolina, and it wasn't my book, but I had already finished the two books I brought down for the week. So I picked up The Beach House not really expecting that I would like it. But I did. I loved it. And I'm pretty sure I got sunburn that day from reading it on the beach.
Patterson writes thrillers, if you don't know him. At the time, I aspired to be a CSI, like the popular TV shows. I was so caught up in his gripping stories of murder and mystery and the way he left me hanging on at the end of every single chapter. I had always enjoyed reading, in school and on my own, but Patterson turned that into an obsession. And I really was obsessed. It was the first time I had an author that I would eagerly await the release of his next book, and I would even reread some of my favorites in the mean time. To me, the term 'pager-turner' was an understatement. I could sit down on a Sunday morning with a four or five hundred page book and have it done by dinnertime, easy. But then I would be sad because after all the time I spent waiting for that book, it was already over. I would go back to the library or book store and just look for his name, for books of his that I hadn't already read. When I say obsession, I'm not joking.
Even now, I still love Patterson even though my plans have changed (I don't think seeing dead bodies and all that is really my thing...), but I'm pretty sure his writing is what made me change my mind and pursue my own writing instead. But, of course, I still find the time to pick up his books and get my murder/thriller/little bit of romance fix every now and then.