We post a lot on this blog about the craft of writing, but today I want to concentrate on reading, and building readers.

Mrs. Latimer, my first grade teacher, sparked my interest in books with the Dick and Jane series. Each day after lunch, we laid our heads on the table and listened to her read. Their dog, Tip, was always my favorite and as I almost dozed off on the desktop, I pictured myself playing in a grassy park with that pup, and still recall to this day a story about the color violet in one of those stories.

Interesting, because I’m colorblind, but I’ve always like the sound of that word.

Fast forward to second grade, and Miss Russell the school librarian. I adored that redhead, and quickly became the teacher’s pet. She recognized my love for reading and while most students could check out only one book at a time, she allowed me two.

And then each grade after, I could check out the corresponding number of books to my grade level. By seventh grade, I’d read almost everything in that library.

Cowboy Sam, the We Were There books, Will James and Smoky the Cowhorse, sparked my interest in history that soon lead to biographies of Davy Crockett, Daniel Boone, and here in Texas, the Alamo legend and all the fiction that gathered around it. After that, it was everything I could lay my hands on, and by the time I was in junior high, I was reading books intended for adults.

Those two educators inspired a reader to grow, and by the time our daughters came around, they were surrounded by books, because the Bride reads, too. Those who know me have seen the bookshelves and cases in our home, and I often get the question, “Did you read all these?”

They wouldn’t be on our shelves if I hadn’t.

Books were available for our daughters and today they’re both educators. The Redhead is a high school librarian, and the One Known as Taz is an elementary school counselor. Each Sunday we all get together for dinner at our house, and most of the time the girls discuss whatever they’re reading at the time.

Now we have the grand-critters, and from day one they’ve had access to books, beginning with those to chew on, tactile books that absorbed them with crackles and textures, to cardboard picture books.

Of the seven, not all are readers, though we’ve tried. As you can tell from this photo, they’ve enjoyed books together, though some are more enamored with the printed word than others.

One will need a chiropractor someday from carrying around a backpack full of books, even when she travels with her parents the full eight miles to our house. When she goes on weekend trips, a second suitcase is necessary.

The others aren’t as addicted, but they still read and look forward to the public library at least once a month, and weekly during the summertime. They love to attend signings, and each time they’re in a bookstore, these guys go home with a new book.

This past weekend at the Will Rogers Medallion conference, I heard some disturbing news that physical books are in jeopardy, but eBooks are the new way to go. I hope that’s not true, because we’re caught in a Catch-22 issue. My girls and their husbands work hard to keep the kids off their devices, but everything in our world is dragging them in that direction. I’d rather them read on their pads, though, instead of spending valuable time on social media and games.

Which leads me to a side discussion, and that’s getting them away from those devices and into the outdoors. We’ve taught them all to enjoy nature, and getting outside is even more important these days as school, competitive sports, and screens absorb so much of their time.

And here I sit, staring at this screen and typing words that will never see a physical page.

In my opinion, a book within reach is the best way to pass the time (instead of scrolling through inane social media platforms that do little more than capture an individual’s interest for a second between swipes), and the adventures inside those pages are pure educational gold.

Kids will soon forget the games on those devices, and the videos which seem to be taking control of their time, but the stories they read in books will remain forever.

Let’s concentrate on building more readers, and the time to start is when they’re sitting in our laps. Turn off your damned devices and read to them, because those days are fleeting.

I follow a Substack hosted by Ted Gioia (pronounced Joy-yah). Ted is a thought leader who’s been around fifty working years. Primarily, he’s in the music industry as a performer, composer, and critic. However, Ted Gioia is an exceptional writer with an amazing ability to grasp complex subjects and clearly break them into comprehensible components.

A few days ago, Ted published a Substack article titled My 9 Predictions: What the Music Industry Will Look Like a Decade from Now. Here’s an infograph outlining his predictions.

I read his article several times, and it struck me the same thing goes with the book industry. It’s a close parallel, for sure. It got me thinking to take the infograph and substitute words. Replace:

Record labels and music companies with book publishers.

Artists and musicians with writers.

Music and playlists with books.

Music industry with book publisher.

Listeners with readers.

Live music with print books.

Come to think of it, these 9 predictions about books could have been made a decade ago and are realizing now.

Kill Zoners — Thoughts? Comments?

When you read this, the Bride and I are with Joy and John Gilstrap in France. I hope I can get an idea to use in a novel and write this trip off. John might. He has a history of visit different places and setting his Jonathan Grave books there.

Much of my travel within the states is for research. The Bride and I have visited Alpine, Texas, and the Big Bend region several times, and each of those trips provided settings and information that wound up in all four of my Sonny Hawke thrillers.

I’ve been up and down the Rio Grande and Red River here in Texas, to get an idea of what the world looks like on both sides of the borders. We’ve been through East Texas, in order to see the country I planned to write about and that trip also showed up in a Sonny Hawke thriller.

Within the next month or two, we’re heading up into Eastern Oklahoma to see where the Comanches lived, and to visit a number of sites I’ve read about. Most of that will be go into the western horror series I’m working on.

A year ago, Joy and John Gilstrap came to Texas and we took them down through Fredericksburg where Germans settled and brought their culture to the developing territory over 150 years ago. From there, we traveled down into the Big Bend region to soak up Marfa, Alpine, and Marathon. It wasn’t a surprise when parts of John’s Zero Sum were set in that hot, dry country.

Besides that, I believe he also mentioned the heat, and flies, something an armchair researcher might miss. Especially the flies.

The purpose of all this is to urge writers to get out and see the world, then use what you’ve discovered to flavor your books.

It doesn’t have to be international travel. This is the first time we’ve been across the Pond, but we’ve been to Mexico and Canada, and those memories are right there, waiting to be plucked out and used in a novel someday.

Will I set a novel in Paris, Normandy, or the Champagne region? I doubt it, but maybe someone I’ve met there will spark a character, or a benign incident on a train can be reimagined as a thrilling scene.

Just think. Texan. Hat. Barn coat. Lucchese boots. France.

Mix well. Maybe it’ll fizz over.

I’m sure John will come back with ideas of his own, and the stories will unfold.

Decades ago, Bill Fries and Chip Davis wrote a spoken song that was recorded by C.W. McCall (he recorded Convoy). Since I’m short of time and packing for the trip, I’m posting this fine piece of writing entitled Aurora Borealis. I wish it was mine.

“One night, many, many summers ago we were camped at twelve thousand feet up where the air is still clear, high in Rockies at Lost Lake, Colorado. And as the fire down burned low and only a few glowing coals remained, we laid on our backs all warm in our sleeping bags and looked up at the stars.

“And as I felt myself falling out into the vastness of the Universe, I thought about things. I thought about the time my grandma told me what to say when you saw the evening star. You all remember:

Star light, star bright, first star I’ve seen tonight. I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight.

“The air is crystal-clean up there; that’s why you can see a million stars, spread out across the sky, almost like a gigantic cloud.

“I remember another night, in the black canyon of the Gunnison River. And we had our rubber boats pulled up on the bank an’ turned over so we could sleep on ’em. And we were layin’ there lookin’ up at the stars that night, too, and one of the guys from New York said, he said, “Hey! Look at all that smog in the sky! Smog clear out here in the sticks!” And somebody said, “Hey, Joe, that’s not smog; that’s the Milky Way. It’s a hundred billion stars. It’s our galaxy.”

“And we saw the Northern Lights up there once, on the summit of Uncompahgre, fourteen thousand three hundred and nine feet above sea level. They were like flames from some prehistoric campfire, leaping and dancing in the sky and changing colors. Red, gold, blue, violet… Aurora Borealis. The Northern Lights. It was the equinox, the changing seasons. Summer to fall, young to old, then to now.

“And then everyone was asleep, except me. And as I saw the morning star come up over the mountain, I realized at last that life is simply a collection of memories. But memories are like starlight: they live on forever.”

Wish I’d written that. Life is just a collection of memories, and we’re making them with a writer friend I met the very day I got into this business.

Y’all get out and travel!