Once upon a time, there was a girl who had a father. She loved her father, but sometimes he just didn't understand. When he thought he was being supportive, it was actually quite the opposite.
"I'll support anything you do," he would say, "but don't get your hopes up."
Yes, you can tell where this is headed. I'll stop with the narrative. So, my dad is great. But he is flawed, like everyone. And when he came up to me the other day and said he bought me a book at a thrift store, I had to keep the look of horror off my face. Reason: I had no idea what he might possibly have picked up for me.
Knowing my dad, it could have been just about anything. A random classic. A cook book. Something on three dimensional trigonometry (I'm actually not joking. He gave me a book on nuclear power plants once). So you can understand my dismay. When he went into his bedroom to go get said book, I stood at the kitchen counter and cringed, trying to steel my face into a mask of happiness for whatever he brought out.
My dad returned from the bedroom, book in hand. Imagine my surprise to see he held Eragon. I was so shocked at this he actually looked confused and was like, "Have you read it before??"
I have not read the Inheritance Cycle before. I did see the terrible movie that they made (and I totally laughed all through it, it was awesome lol). So, it seems my family is finally learning something about me. If only I could get them to be truly supportive of me being a writer.