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I moved a lot as a kid. As a result, I attended seven different elementary schools. Books became my coping mechanism. They replaced the awkwardness associated with starting a new school, walking into a new classroom, and making new friends. Books didn’t judge, they didn’t bully, and they didn’t exclude me from whatever activities were going on. Not once did I ever pick up a book and feel rejected.
I was methodical in my reading habits. Before middle school, I stuck to nonfiction. History, geography, and zoology. I would pick a section of the library and check out all the books on a given subject. I covered a multitude of topics; the Revolutionary war, the Serengeti, the Great Depression, Manifest Destiny, pirates, you get the picture. I distinctly remember one weekend checking out three separate books on World War II fighter pilots. Needless to say, the librarians knew me by name. I was voracious and would finish a dozen books a week. I rushed through in-class work so I could read and escape from the world.
When I reached middle school, I discovered fiction. It started with the first book I ever bought, Tarzan of the Apes. I was enthralled. So much so that I rode my bike to different malls, collecting the entire series in paperback (24 books in all). I read each one twice and several three times or more. I branched off into their works by Edgar Rice Burroughs, specifically the Barsoom series (otherwise known as John Carter of Mars). Finding more books to read was like pulling the thread on the tapestry. Jules Verne, Tolkien, Robert Heinlein, Isaac Asimov, Larry Niven, Terry Brooks, Harry Turtledove, Clive Cussler, and the list goes on. And of course, who can forget the time someone challenged me to read Dhalgren (at a tender 14 years old). Thanks, Ken.
Finally, my attention turned to more sophisticated fiction and non-fiction. My good friend Matt introduced me to Barbara Tuchman, an excellent historian, and several Russian classics by Tolstoy and Fyodor Dostoevsky. English and American classics also found their place.
Somewhere along the line, my thoughts shifted from reading to writing. A long conversation with my high school friend Dustan probably inspired me. In my late twenties, a story began to form that would take 20+ years to complete, a story I am ready to share with the world.
I’ve had incredible support, from my beautiful wife Sonya to my amazing kids, Chris and McKenna. All my friends and family (you all know who you are, but if you need to be called out, let me know). I am forever grateful for their steady praise, honest feedback, harsh criticism, and above all, endless encouragement. Any success I have as a writer will always be erected upon the foundation of their enthusiasm.
www.bkgreenwood.com
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