I recently spent a few minutes talking with with a teenager and was saddened to hear her refer, not once, but several times, to the boring life she led. I suggested a number of activities I thought she might enjoy, only to get the following replies:
“Skating? I’m too old for that.”
“The museum? Ooo–Deadly.”
“The mall? I’m broke. Can you lend me $20?”
“Ride a bike? Too hot outside.”
“A Movie? I’m not in the mood.”
“Reading? I hate reading! Books are boring.”
By this time, I was getting a little bored with her, and that is really saying something, since I can remember very few times in my life that I was ever truly bored. And that is because I love to read. How, I wondered, could this child think that reading was boring?
Now you probably think that I am going to spend the rest of this article telling you how I introduced this poor deluded soul to a good book, taught her to appreciate good literature, and changed her life forever.
Not so. Instead, I am going to talk to you about how much I like to read. Reading is not only one of the greatest joys of my life; it is also the source of most of what I know. No matter what I read, I always seem to learn something from it.
Usually, I have from 2 to 5 good books scattered around the house, so I can read a page or two whenever I have a spare minute. I read fiction and non-fiction. I read mystery, adventure, romance, and even Steven King. I grab “What’s Happening” and “Senior News” from the free boxes around town, and read them. I read the Bible, and the local newspaper. I even read the place mats when we go out to eat, and Reader’s Digest has been part of my bathroom decor for the last 30 years. Reading, boring? Hogwash!
Just last week, I finished the 14th of a series of books about a newspaperman named Qwilleran, spelled with a “W”, as he is fond of pointing out, and his two Siamese cats, Koko and Yum Yum.I can just hear my young friend shudder….”Fourteen books, all about the same characters? By the same author?” And then she would use the B word again.
Just the entertainment value of those particular 14 books makes them worth reading, but reading 14 books by the same author, if that author is a good one, teaches someone who likes to write, like me, what works and what doesn’t. Together, Qwilleran and his cats solve all kinds of mysteries, and I must admit that I always enjoy a good mystery. In addition, the author, Lilian Braun paints wonderful pictures with words, something I would dearly love to be able to do.
For example, instead of merely saying “the cats left the room,” she says, “Hearing the word, “dog”, the cats turned in unison, and exited the room, four front paws leaving while four back paws were still coming in.”
In another place, the writer side of me picked up on Qwilleran’s discussion of his high school English teacher. She had instilled in him, he said, the ability to write 1000 words on any subject at the drop of a hat. This ability had greatly enhanced his writing career. That, I thought, would be a good exercise. Most articles in current magazines run between 750 and 1000 words. Maybe I need to concentrate on getting the format down, and worry about polishing my prose, later. I decided to pick a subject, write 1000 words, and see what would happen.
Today, I picked Qwilleran, spelled with a “W”, and you have just experienced what happened. I am still several hundred words shy of 1000, don’t seem to be making a real point of any kind, and, so far, lack a conclusive ending. Oh well, he didn’t say his teacher expected it to be perfect…..
