Thank you thank you thank you Jaime! Books have been my companions from when I was 3 years old, since I could read before i could speak. Stories of Indian mythologies, amar chitra katha, ramayana, mahabharata, Nancy drew, ALL enid blyton books, hardy boys, famous five, harry potter, Agatha Christie, percy jackson filled my school days. Then later I moved onto dan brown, Jeffrey Archer, christopher c doyle and shit tons of Indian authors!
Giving me company even on those dreary dark days when I didn't have friends. I owe every single thing to them.
Your post reminded me of my whole childhood, growing up and brought me tears! I'm so so so glad i randomly stumbled upon this man! Gosh!
As an adult (22), The House in the Cerulean Sea by TJ Klune made me bawl my eyes out! The deep emotions, empathy, love and connection in the book! Oh my god!
And you know? There was a point where I beat myself up for reading fiction even as an adult and for never being able to read non fiction in my life...but as the years have passed by, I realised that's what makes me me! My soul! And brings a deep joy and smile to my face! Why the fuck should I ever feel ashamed of it?!
That wasn’t just a comment—it was a confession of the soul, and I felt every syllable of it. The kind of note that makes me stop what I’m doing, lean back in my chair, and just breathe it in.
...and honestly, I needed that today, cause I'm on oxygen (bad air day). [grin]
Books have always been more than pages and ink for people like us.
They’re lifelines.
They’re memory keepers.
They’re that one loyal friend who never judged you when the world got cold and confusing. You and I—we share that same secret language. That feeling of turning a page and somehow finding yourself tucked between the words.
I was smiling through your whole list—Nancy Drew to Percy Jackson—and then you brought up Klune’s House in the Cerulean Sea and I haven't read that, but now you have my interest =).
Also? Screw the guilt.
Fiction is not a guilty pleasure—it’s a sacred act.
Choosing fiction is choosing connection, wonder, truth wrapped in metaphor. We don’t need permission to love the thing that feeds our soul.
That’s your magic. That’s what makes you you.
And honestly, the world needs more of that, not less.
You stumbled into my world—but it feels more like you were meant to find it.
Choosing fiction is choosing wonder, awe, love, joy and intense connection of the consciousness Jaime! Sitting down with a book, under the covers with your neck hurting is a sacred act! Whether people get it or not, doesn't matter!
You made me go visit my bookshelf and give them all a virtual hug! Thank you for making me fall in love with these gems of pages again! Thank you for making me find a piece of myself all over again! I added your comment to my love notes folder and I know it'll bring a massive smile onto my face when I stumble upon it randomly in the future!
I can't wait for your writing Jaime! You've found a fan for life in me!
Okay, listen—you just made me get emotional over someone hugging their bookshelf. Like full-on, “pause and stare at the wall like a sitcom dad realizing his kid grew up too fast” kind of moment.
You broke me—in the best way. And I love you for it.
Seriously though… reading your words felt like someone opened the window and let sunshine pour into my day. You reminded me why I do this… why I write, why I ramble, and why I sit at my keyboard way too late at night whispering “maybe just one more sentence…”
You made me feel seen. Which is hilarious, because I’m usually the one trying to do that for others.
And I LOVE that you’ve got a “love notes folder.” That’s like emotional Tupperware. I hope my comment sits in there next to a note that says “remember to dance in the kitchen” and a screenshot of a meme that made you snort tea through your nose.
Also, can we talk about this gem?
“Sitting down with a book, under the covers with your neck hurting is a sacred act.”
😂 YES!
That’s the kind of pain I sign up for willingly—neck bent, page flipped, heart open.
That’s not discomfort.
That’s pilgrimage.
Anyway, thank you.
Thank you for showing up so fully, so vulnerably, so joyfully.
I’m a fan of you, Shruthi.
You're stuck with me now. 😄
—Jaime
P.S. If you ever want to hear me get all sappy about fiction being our emotional compass and storytelling saving the universe and all that jazz, you'll get it through Life of Fiction.
Thank you thank you thank you Jaime! Books have been my companions from when I was 3 years old, since I could read before i could speak. Stories of Indian mythologies, amar chitra katha, ramayana, mahabharata, Nancy drew, ALL enid blyton books, hardy boys, famous five, harry potter, Agatha Christie, percy jackson filled my school days. Then later I moved onto dan brown, Jeffrey Archer, christopher c doyle and shit tons of Indian authors!
Giving me company even on those dreary dark days when I didn't have friends. I owe every single thing to them.
Your post reminded me of my whole childhood, growing up and brought me tears! I'm so so so glad i randomly stumbled upon this man! Gosh!
As an adult (22), The House in the Cerulean Sea by TJ Klune made me bawl my eyes out! The deep emotions, empathy, love and connection in the book! Oh my god!
And you know? There was a point where I beat myself up for reading fiction even as an adult and for never being able to read non fiction in my life...but as the years have passed by, I realised that's what makes me me! My soul! And brings a deep joy and smile to my face! Why the fuck should I ever feel ashamed of it?!
Shruthi—
I can’t tell you how much your message moved me.
That wasn’t just a comment—it was a confession of the soul, and I felt every syllable of it. The kind of note that makes me stop what I’m doing, lean back in my chair, and just breathe it in.
...and honestly, I needed that today, cause I'm on oxygen (bad air day). [grin]
Books have always been more than pages and ink for people like us.
They’re lifelines.
They’re memory keepers.
They’re that one loyal friend who never judged you when the world got cold and confusing. You and I—we share that same secret language. That feeling of turning a page and somehow finding yourself tucked between the words.
I was smiling through your whole list—Nancy Drew to Percy Jackson—and then you brought up Klune’s House in the Cerulean Sea and I haven't read that, but now you have my interest =).
Also? Screw the guilt.
Fiction is not a guilty pleasure—it’s a sacred act.
Choosing fiction is choosing connection, wonder, truth wrapped in metaphor. We don’t need permission to love the thing that feeds our soul.
That’s your magic. That’s what makes you you.
And honestly, the world needs more of that, not less.
You stumbled into my world—but it feels more like you were meant to find it.
Welcome to the tribe.
I’m so glad you’re here.
—Jaime
Choosing fiction is choosing wonder, awe, love, joy and intense connection of the consciousness Jaime! Sitting down with a book, under the covers with your neck hurting is a sacred act! Whether people get it or not, doesn't matter!
You made me go visit my bookshelf and give them all a virtual hug! Thank you for making me fall in love with these gems of pages again! Thank you for making me find a piece of myself all over again! I added your comment to my love notes folder and I know it'll bring a massive smile onto my face when I stumble upon it randomly in the future!
I can't wait for your writing Jaime! You've found a fan for life in me!
Shruthi…
Okay, listen—you just made me get emotional over someone hugging their bookshelf. Like full-on, “pause and stare at the wall like a sitcom dad realizing his kid grew up too fast” kind of moment.
You broke me—in the best way. And I love you for it.
Seriously though… reading your words felt like someone opened the window and let sunshine pour into my day. You reminded me why I do this… why I write, why I ramble, and why I sit at my keyboard way too late at night whispering “maybe just one more sentence…”
You made me feel seen. Which is hilarious, because I’m usually the one trying to do that for others.
And I LOVE that you’ve got a “love notes folder.” That’s like emotional Tupperware. I hope my comment sits in there next to a note that says “remember to dance in the kitchen” and a screenshot of a meme that made you snort tea through your nose.
Also, can we talk about this gem?
“Sitting down with a book, under the covers with your neck hurting is a sacred act.”
😂 YES!
That’s the kind of pain I sign up for willingly—neck bent, page flipped, heart open.
That’s not discomfort.
That’s pilgrimage.
Anyway, thank you.
Thank you for showing up so fully, so vulnerably, so joyfully.
I’m a fan of you, Shruthi.
You're stuck with me now. 😄
—Jaime
P.S. If you ever want to hear me get all sappy about fiction being our emotional compass and storytelling saving the universe and all that jazz, you'll get it through Life of Fiction.
I promise there’s more love, fewer neck cramps.