Christie Cary  I am an addict. From an early age, I craved one thing: words. I was a purveyor of language and all it beheld—beauty, emotion, decay, thought, humor. I would lie on the sagging mattress of my bottom bunk, curled up with my herd of My Little Ponies, rereading my favorite dog-eared copies from my small library. While there wasn’t much funding for my miniscule library (think: a two-shelf bookstand), it slowly grew to include volumes upon volumes of The Babysitters Club, Sweet Valley Twins (and later Sweet Valley High), and Goosebumps. As … Continue reading The Movie Was Better Than the Book