As I mentioned in last weeks “The Struggle is Real” post, I
have been trying to find ways to refill the creative well within that has gone
dry.
One of the ways I’ve been doing that is to make time to read again. It may sound counterproductive, reading instead of writing. But it was a lifelong love of reading that made me want to be a writer in the first place. I think most of us get so caught up in reading things on our phone these days, we forget to sit down with a good old fashioned book. And that is something I need to work on.
We had a rare 65 degree February day here recently, and when I
went to bed with my book in hand that night it was still pretty nice
outside. I couldn’t resist the urge to
crack my bedroom window open and allow the fresh night air in. As I sat there reading, the distant sounds of
people outside enjoying the weather, the odd car going past as people arrived
home brought back a lot of memories of reading near an open window late into the night as a kid.
The more I thought on it, the more I realized how many happy memories
of mine involve the joy of reading. So I
thought I’d blog a bit today about some of the books that have stayed with me over the years and put me on the path to writing. All
of these authors played a role in that journey, and I am grateful to each of
them.
Author Carolyn Haywood passed away in 1990, but I wish there
was a way to thank her for the many hours of enjoyment I had reading her Betsy
series when I was young. Our local library
was just down the street, so at least once a week my mom, sister and I would
walk there and lug home entire bags full of books. I read, and frequently re-read, every Betsy
book available. For some reason, this
one stuck with me as a favorite of the series.
And I have vivid memories of sitting up late on a warm summer night, my
window fan rattling away as I happily devoured page after page until I could no
longer keep my eyes open.
Depending on when you were born, you were introduced to Nancy
Drew and her friends with a different cover for this book. But I still remember the Christmas when this
one first appeared under the tree, along with volumes 2, 3, and 4. I recall diving into this story—probably Christmas
night—and not emerging until quite some time later. And the panic that set in when I was nearly
finished with the fourth volume and would soon be out of Nancy Drew books—I needed
more! Imagine my surprise years later to
learn Carolyn Keene was actually several different people LOL. Well I owe them
all a huge thank you, as well. Nancy
kept me company through the flu, cold winter weekends, sleepless nights and
countless summer afternoons.
It’s been so many years since I read this book for the first time, I can no longer recall where I found it (probably the attic, there were loads of books in my parents attic), but I seem to recall the book looked like this--old and worn, with that wonderful old book smell. A good sized bench swing graced the front porch of the house I grew up in, and on hot summer days, the roll up blinds that kept the sun off the front of the house were lowered. It was a peaceful, cozy place to sit and read. (If you are getting the sense that I was not an athlete, or someone who played sports or ran around in the heat of the day, you would be correct, no summer tan ever graced this book worm’s skin). It’s sad that this story has come under so much fire in recent years. It is a work of fiction, after all, nothing more. But those of us with a passion for history are grateful to Margaret Mitchell for taking stories she grew up hearing —along with her own wonderful imagination—and giving us a glimpse of a time and place that no longer exists. Politics aside, it's a great story about survival, determination and courage. You both love Scarlett and despise her, sometimes at the same time, throughout the book—but you can’t stop reading. Each time I re-read it, a different character emerges as my favorite so in many ways, it’s new to me every time. I am definitely overdue to re-read this. Shout out to BFF and super talented western author Kim Turner, who gets pestered with all my questions related to Georgia, Atlanta and GWTW.
This one may seem like an odd entry, but this was the book
that introduced me to romance novels and I've never forgotten the unique title.
Only my copy didn’t have a cover. My
mom worked in a department store and when they closed out their book
department, all the covers had to be torn off and returned to the publisher as
proof the books had been destroyed. But my
mother knew her daughters loved to read and she—and many of the other employees—took
home the books rather than see them tossed in a dumpster. I am glad she did. What I liked best about these books was they
were the perfect size to fit inside my textbooks at school LOL. In most classes. we were seated alphabetically and since my
last name began with an M, I usually sat toward the back of the room--often with the textbook
propped open and a Harlequin romance tucked inside. This explains a lot about my algebra grade LOL.
My introduction to the world of historical romance came some
years later when I found this in the attic.
Not sure why my mom and Grandma were hiding that box of romance novels (though
I am sure we can guess why) but one summer afternoon when I was looking for
something to read, I stumbled across it—and pulled this one out. I had always been a history buff, but this
story made me fall in love with the combination of history and romance. And no one puts words on the page quite like
LaVyrle Spencer. I was hooked.
This was my first introduction
to native American historical romance, an era I still love to this day. I devoured this entire series –and then read
them all again. There are aspects of
these early romance novels that are no longer politically correct, including depictions
of rape –but back then, I didn’t care. I was caught up in the love story of Alicia
and Gray Eagle. I’ve never forgotten them.
I still have my very dog eared copies of all of Pamela Morsi’s
original historical romances and re-read them from time to time. I vividly remember finding this one in the bookstore, and the skitter of excitement at finding a story that was “different.” And different it was. The humor, the imperfect hero and heroine,
the poor mountain folk as characters pulled me right in and made me rethink what a historical romance "had" to be.
Pamela Morsi taught me it was possible to combine history, romance and
humor.
There have been thousands of books over the years whose characters have kept me company long into the night. But if you love to read there is nothing quite like that experience of traveling to another place and time and being absorbed into another world--all from the comfort of your favorite reading spot. It is one of life’s little pleasures, and the very thing that made me want to be a writer.
I realize this was lengthy, so whether you scrolled or read
through—thank you for stopping by. I hope you’ll leave a
comment, either here or on FB, telling me about some of your favorite reading experiences
and the stories that touched your heart and made you want to be a writer.
