Paper back writer (paperback writer)
Dear Sir or Madam, will you read my book?
It took me years to write, will you take a look?
It’s based on a novel by a man named Lear
And I need a job, so I want to be a paperback writer,
Paperback writer.
Dear Sir or Madam, will you read my book?
It took me years to write, will you take a look?
It’s based on a novel by a man named Lear
And I need a job, so I want to be a paperback writer,
Paperback writer.
I am an avid reader. Like most readers of popular fiction, I think that if I had the time to do it, I would be able to write an amazing novel; the next great American novel. Recently, I have been looking back and wondering where my reading addiction began.
My earliest memory of reading was being taken to the library on Bird Road as a child. (I also remember another library with a statue of a man named PINDER. That was my childhood name for fart and i loved that statue) I am not sure how old I was, just that I was young. (I love when people tell a story from their youth and say they remember their age specifically at the time. No you don’t, dummy) Many kids fantasized about dragons and swords, giant mazes where there was either a princess or a monster at the center of the maze. Others think about ninjas, or giant transforming robots, of being a race car driver on the circuit, or a teenager solving mysteries as you drive around the country in your green van with a scruffy beatnik, with his stupid beard and his amazing talking dog. I dreamt of all of those and more. I needed to.
Without going too deep into it, (but Steve, why change the way you operate now?) I had a need for escapism as a child, probably more than most. I found it anyway I could. I could probably write about my addiction to television and movies today and trace its roots back to these same escapism techniques I am referring to here. Kids picking on you, parents just don’t understand, can’t afford to do the things you want to do, the person you like thinks you smell funny, or you don’t wear the right clothes, boss doesn’t see how truly brilliant you are, or your (fill in the title of your current) significant other isn’t doing or saying the things you want; escape. Escape to a place where none of that matters.
I loved the library. I got to walk the isles of books towering above me in a seemingly never-ending labyrinth of awesomeness. I loved the catalog that had cards where you could look up books by category and author, and it gave you a code (anyone besides me remember the Dewey Decimal system?) to locate the book you were looking for. The codes were listed on the top of the shelf and then on each book. I remember there were book readings for kids, but I don’t remember sitting through one of those. I might be wrong, but I really wasn’t there for the spoken word. When I read, I hear it as a voice in my head. It isn’t my voice. It is the voice of the book. I wanted the book to read itself to me, not some lady that was using her voice to ruin my experience. Shut up, stupid. Lol.
I remember the stainless steel water fountains with their ice cold water and the shelf of newspapers on the hanging wooden stick held closed by a rubber band. I remember rack after rack of magazines enclosed in a plastic, clear covered binder type device that kept them safe and still allowed you to see the covers. I remember the micro fiche machines that you could use to look up old stories from magazines and newspapers from thousands of years ago. I remember the little card that was in the back of the book that they would take out and scan along with your library card to show who took what books. I remember the feeling of pride that I had my own library card in my own wallet. I remember the pressure to choose wisely what I wanted to read. I also remember the pressure to finish reading before the books had to be returned. At some point I stopped going to the library. I think most of us did. I wonder what it would be like to go again. Would I still get that tingle in my chest? Probably now, but who knows.
The first fiction novel I remember reading was either The Island or Wolfen. Both were movie novelizations of movies I wasn’t able to see and I couldn’t put either down, reading well into the night. I have fond memories of going to K-Mart (we didn’t have Wal-Mart or Target back in the day and I looked at going to a book store as a complete impossibility) and buying paperback books. K-Mart sold their books for below the cover price and I thought that would make it more possible to get management approval (my mom) for my frivolous purchase.
When it comes to reading a book series it started for me with Tarzan. I read every one of Edgar Rice Burrows’ Tarzan books dozens of times. I loved the art on the cover of Lord Greystoke in all his simian glory, usually engaged in battle with the nemesis of the week. I later switched gears and read The Man of Bronze, Doc Savage. Doc was, for me, the first superhero. The stories take place during the 40’s and he was surrounded by a band of men that would put Robin Hood’s stupid posse to shame. I later graduated to Robert B. Parker’s Spenser book series that led to the iconic 80’s TV series Spenser for Hire. I now read probably 10 different book series on a regular basis.
I still love the written word. I read almost exclusively on my iPad now, but I sometimes miss the feel of paper in my hands. I love that I can highlight a word some smarter-than-me author placed just to show that he has a vocabulary and have it defined for me. I love that I can click on a link that an e-book savvy author placed in their book now to take me outside the pages for additional story related information. I love that those reading a paper book have to get up and go to their pc and type it in to get the extras or ignore them completely. Hahahahahahaha, 2012 people.
I am looking to self-publish a short story sometime in the near future. It will probably only be available as an e-book, but I will also publish it here in my blog for those that do not have an e-reader. I don’t expect to make any money from it since I will probably put it out there as a free download. I just want to be able to search Amazon.com one day and find my name as an author. That will allow me to check a major bucket list item off. Wish me luck and be kind when you read it.
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it…
Btw, how's that short story coming along…? 🙂