Like a lot of other readers, authors are my superheroes. I view them as possessing some sort of Avengers-level powers that they selflessly use to entertain, educate, and teach empathy to the world. Meeting some of my favorite authors is a practice in not physically assaulting them with the onslaught of my love and admiration. Depending on their security team, this could be detrimental to my well-being.
So it always brightens my day when I realize that these geniuses of the page are just like me! They may see their names on the New York Times Bestselling list or be shortlisted for The Man Booker, but some struggles are universal.
They ponder the big questions:
Their siblings drive them nuts:
They get their lives at Target (and totally buy into the unicorn trend):
They fall for Oreo’s latest flavor trickery:
They food brag:
They worry about the gaps in their wardrobe:
They look to otters and puppies for comfort:
They wish they hadn’t done something, and then share their shame on social media anydamnedway:
They figure out new and unique ways not to do what they’re supposed to be doing:
They want you to see how adorable their pets are:
They are fiercely loyal to their favorite musicians: