It’s the first day of summer and I’ve already read the first book on this year’s books of summer.
Many of you know I set aside twelve books each summer to read while the days are long and hot.
I’ll reveal this year’s dozen very soon but the focus of this post is all about being readers before we’re writers.
First of all, I have a confession to make. I’m not sure if I’ve ever shared this with you but my main incentive when I began writing wasn’t because I’d always wanted to be an author. It was, in fact, money that got me interested in the writing life.
You’re probably doubled over with laughter right now, thinking is she crazy or what, authorship is a fast road to poverty.
However, this is how the story goes…
I was staying with my mom’s aunt and her next door neighbor stopped by and just happened to mention she’d received a royalty check for a book she’d written thirty years ago.
Wow, I thought, passive income at its best and I should get writing.
I did, but I’m happy to reveal that once I got started, money no longer was my main motivator. I’d found my path in life and the thing I loved doing the most.
I don’t know if I’m in the minority because it hadn’t been a lifelong dream, but one thing I know all us writers share is a love of reading. That’s always been a passion of mine and I have my late father to thank for it.
I’m pretty sure my earliest memory is seeing him sitting in a chair reading. When I turned five, he took me to the library for the first time and signed me up for a library card. Each Saturday without fail, rain or shine, the two of us would walk to the library and he’d go to the main section to look at books to borrow while I’d go into the children’s area. Dad was a fast reader and at that time you were only allowed to borrow three books at a time so he combined his card with my mom’s and got six. He’d even take them with him for his train ride to and from London each day.
It wasn’t long before I too was hooked. I longed for Saturday morning when I’d go and get three new stories. I loved summer because it meant time off school and more yes more time to read.
I can’t imagine my life without books, stories to get lost in, and characters to cheer for. Each time summer rolls around and I plan out my reading list, I often wonder had my father not introduced me to books, had I not fallen in love with reading, then would I ever have become a writer?
My conclusion is, even if you’ve never dreamed of writing since you were a child, that really doesn’t matter. What counts is your love of how words are weaved together to create wonderful stories. I believe we’re readers first and authors second.
I’d love to hear about your reading experiences when you were growing up.
And if you’re looking for some reading suggestions for summer, check out this site-