Summer Reading, Traveling Abroad

Jun 28, 2016 by

So far this summer, I have spent an abundance of my time in Imperial Russia.

I spent two to four days drifting off the coast of Cuba trying to reel in a very large fish.

And I’ve spent a couple nights wandering the cafes of Paris.

I’m three chapters under the stairs in the cupboard of the Dursley home–4 Privet Drive.

And I’ve stepped way back to the days surrounding the crowing of Arthur as King of England.

And it’s just the end of June.

If you haven’t figured it out, I’ve been reading Anna Karenina, The Old Man and the Sea, The Sun Also Rises, the first Harry Potter book, and Le Morte d’Arthur.

I’ve also been reading a few books on the craft of writing. (Posts about those to come.)


I’m more than 50 years of age now and I wish I’d taken more time as a young man, as a boy, even, to read.

Those days were spent being a live and in love with the world. No, I wouldn’t trade them as they are what helps fuel the tales I now tell in novel form. But having read more when I was younger would have fueled novel writing at an earlier age, I do believe.

But I didn’t and I can’t change that.


In spite of what others might say, putting my kids down at bedtime was usually a task that fell to me. I wish now I’d been better prepared. I wish I had taken my children on magical journeys with books at night instead of fighting with them about staying in bed, getting drinks of water, or the umpteenth trip to go potty.

But I didn’t and I can’t change that.


That’s not an easy question to answer. At least not in one part.

For one, I’m busy trying to complete my third full-length book. I’m revising, I should say. If you talk to any writing coach they will tell you that you get better by writing, AND by reading the works of others. So I have put myself on a mental diet of classic literature. This third work is more colorful and elegant in word selection. The reading of great works is helping that.

The second reason is that for the past month, I’ve largely been bed-ridden. While helping my daughter move out of her dorm at Auburn, I fell. My neck began to hurt severely. On the return trip from Alabama to Texas, I set up to go see a chiropractor. The chiro got my neck to stop hurting, but has awakened an issue in my lower back. I’ve been in intense pain for four weeks now. Tomorrow comes a visit with a spine specialist. Being lost in my books has helped me try to forget about the pain.

The third reason is simple: I have too much living left to do not to entertain my brain with some of the finest literature that mankind has ever recorded.

What books are you reading this summer?

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