I have a favorite author. Even when I say that I don’t because I like styles and genres more than I might like a particular person’s writing, it’s not true. I discovered this about myself in the last few weeks as I picked up Stephen King’s On Writing again. This time I am reading it and digesting it in small savory bites instead of in one big gulp. I am learning to slow down and savor rather than feed my need for instant gratification. It’s a slow and painful process because instant gratification is the very basis of
We asked the following question on our Facebook fan page recently: “This was on my mind this morning too. If you could ask your favorite author a question, what would you ask? Oh and who is your favorite author?” Among the responses were sentiments such as “who inspires you?”, “what drives you?” and “are you a mason?” The last response, I assume, is in reference to Dan Brown’s uncanny attention to detail and the specifics surrounding the concept of religious secrets being kept from the public at large in places such as the Vatican.
The conversation got me
Reading for me brings alive a whole different universe in my head.
I was discussing with my mother the other night, our completely different tastes in literature and entertainment. I tend to like the thrillers and horrors and whodunits and she prefers light, comedic, feel-good kind of stories. It is her long standing opinion that what you fill your mind with is what you will live; and she has constantly been afraid of my becoming dark and evil because of the kinds of books I insist on reading.
I explained to her that for me, the Stephen King’s