Were I Not a Reader

As long as I can remember, reading has been one of my favorite past times. When I was in the first and second grade, my teachers used to ask me to read to my classes so that the other students could hear how our books were supposed to be read aloud. I was known to read every word on the page and with the voice of the author, too. In junior and senior high school, creative writing was my favorite subject. I also enjoyed writing articles for the school newspaper and my teachers encouraged me to major in some form of journalism or writing in college. Though I never memorized the rules very well, words always seemed to slip through my hand to the paper in their practically perfect order. When high school and college no longer supplied me with formal writing assignments, I began journaling. For decades I have been recording my thoughts, dreams and prayers daily.

One might say that writing, as well as reading, is a natural part of who I am.

Discovering the kind of writer I am has been the not-so-natural part of me.

2008 was my year of discoveries. One such great discovery was that I am an expository writer. Fiction is not my brand. Wit and humor are not my gifts. My writing is more like a discourse of information or intent, in order to explain or define. Then again, my occasional narratives in image and prose can describe or recount with personal awareness and a hint of tenderness and compassion that would not at all seem like a mere discourse of information. I consider myself fortunate, then, as I do not feel imprisoned in the expository writer’s box. Having reached a point of contentment in who I am as a writer and the accompanying self confidence gained has caused me to expand already. Because I now also know that I am a step past the expository writer and see myself as the teachers of my youth did: I am truly a literary journalist. My favorite reading is of true events in the form of historical novels. And I love to write about true events. Now I will re-learn writing them as stories, which I once did so well.

Realizing who I am as a writer has released me to be that writer. I have now been able to set publication goals for myself, with a vision of actually reaching them. This freedom makes my pen dance as it fills the lines of my empty notebook and my fingers fly across my keyboard to record events that can make a difference to the reader as well as the characters about whom I write. I feel certain that whatever I have to write is important to know for at least some of the people who will read my material and may even change some lives for the better.

But what has been best all along are the people in my life who both taught and encouraged me to read. For I am fully aware that were I not a reader, I would not write. For such people in my history, I am most grateful.