My reading and writing are borne of the same DNA. They’re my oxygen.My love affair with books has been a long, winding, delightful road. The reading came first. The writing came much, much later. I didn’t start writing until I was thirty-three years old and I wasn’t serious about it until I was thirty-seven. That’s twenty-eight years after I fell in love with reading. So, before the brief postscript about my writing, it’s important to understand where the foundation was laid, where the love affair first began.
How many books have I read? I wish I knew. I’ve had deep, meaningful relationships with dozens of books from my favorite authors, one after another after another. When I’ve been in a certain mood, I’ve had sleazy, debauched one night stands with books—especially deliciously devilish tell-all rock n’ roll autobiographies. I’ve done horror. I’ve read many from the Lost Generation. I’ve gotten hooked on series I’d be embarrassed to name. And I’ve spent years digging through the copious offerings of the best crime and espionage authors. One thing has been constant: I’ve never stopped reading. Although I cannot provide an exact age or date, I think I was nine years old when I signed Stephen King’s The Shining out from the county library. As you might imagine, I was immediately hooked—and scared shitless—and I’ve not been without a book ever since.
What money my family didn’t have, we made up for through creativity. While my sisters and I did things like record radio shows on our old Panasonic Take-N-Tape recorder, I noticed when my parents could steal a rare moment of peace from their five children, they would often use their free time to read. On Sunday afternoons, we would all pile into the back of one of my dad’s battleship-like Chryslers and make our way to the Greenville County Library. In my early years, I focused on the library’s well of tattered comic books. I’d find a corner of the library, stretching out and reading about Richie Rich or maybe Captain America. But after I read The Shining, I quickly fell under the spell of the deeper tales, learning about things that a nine year old probably shouldn’t know. Books did it for me.
I joined the Army sixteen days shy of my 19th birthday. Basic Training lasted ten weeks and for most of that time I was unable to read books, easily the longest stretch without reading of my adult life. My drill sergeants told me, quite forcefully, to study my soldier’s handbook, instead. Thinking back, I was too tired to read. Near the end of Basic, when we were finally allowed to buy books, I purchased Clear and Present Danger, by Tom Clancy. Keep in mind, I hadn’t seen television or read a book in over two months. Man, was that book ever good, like a fine meal to a starving person. After that, due to my new career that offered oodles of idle time, my reading lurched into overdrive.
Uncle Sam sent me to Germany at the age of 19, shortly after the Wall came down. When I wasn’t loose, roaming the ancient streets of Europe, my unit was usually out on maneuvers. And it was on those long, cold trips into the woods that I learned to truly appreciate what an escape a book can be.
Other than the occasional stolen moment with a few highly-forbidden pilsners, a great book was one of the only chances to occupy oneself during stretches of chilly solitude. I can recall hours on end spent reading novels by ChemLight. Oftentimes I’d devour everything I had and would eventually trade other soldiers for their books. There were no iPads. No laptops. Just books.
After the Army, my extreme love of books never waned. All those books I read, added with my military experience and passion for Europe, created the fuel for my writing. For me, writing my books is a lot like reading. Those who know me know I don’t outline ahead of time. In fact, I do very little planning at all. Once I know the setting, I plow into the writing as if I’m a reader. I have no idea of what’s going to happen. Since I care about my characters, even my antagonists—in some strange and twisted way—I’m compelled to awaken each day to find out, ever so slowly, how their fate will bear out.
Such a great look into the mind of a truly gifted writer..