My parents made me a reader
I wouldn’t be a writer if it weren’t for my parents.
My dad taught me to read when I was little - by the age of three, according to family lore. I still remember my mom showing me white flashcards with a letter on one side and an image on the other - like an A and the word “apple.” Those flashcards seemed magical.
My parents were big readers. Books were scattered throughout the house, and they were fine with us reading whatever we picked up. It could be Tess of the D’ubervilles (they had a set of paperback classics) or pop fiction. I still remember the shock I felt when I learned a few things about sex reading The Godfather in sixth grade.
When I first got published, my dad gave me several writing books he had had since the 1950s, includingCharacters Make Your Story. That’s when I learned that he had once dreamed of being a novelist himself, before three kids and 60-hour weeks as a TV newsman got in his way. And I counted on my mom to give me honest feedback (although I will admit I liked the praise much more than the alternative).
Until she died, my mom was still a big reader. Reading was her purest pleasure, and I tried to keep her supply topped up. Some recent reads include: Behind the Beautiful Forevers; The Gift of Fear; all of The Game of Thrones books; If Walls Could Talk: An Intimate History of the Home, and The Journal of Best Practices: A Memoir of Marriage, Asperger Syndrome, and One Man's Quest to Be a Better Husband.
My dad taught me to read when I was little - by the age of three, according to family lore. I still remember my mom showing me white flashcards with a letter on one side and an image on the other - like an A and the word “apple.” Those flashcards seemed magical.
My parents were big readers. Books were scattered throughout the house, and they were fine with us reading whatever we picked up. It could be Tess of the D’ubervilles (they had a set of paperback classics) or pop fiction. I still remember the shock I felt when I learned a few things about sex reading The Godfather in sixth grade.
When I first got published, my dad gave me several writing books he had had since the 1950s, includingCharacters Make Your Story. That’s when I learned that he had once dreamed of being a novelist himself, before three kids and 60-hour weeks as a TV newsman got in his way. And I counted on my mom to give me honest feedback (although I will admit I liked the praise much more than the alternative).
Until she died, my mom was still a big reader. Reading was her purest pleasure, and I tried to keep her supply topped up. Some recent reads include: Behind the Beautiful Forevers; The Gift of Fear; all of The Game of Thrones books; If Walls Could Talk: An Intimate History of the Home, and The Journal of Best Practices: A Memoir of Marriage, Asperger Syndrome, and One Man's Quest to Be a Better Husband.