It’s been way too long since I blogged. Comes down to the fact that I’d rather spend writing time working on stories. But when I bought a booth at The Toledo Golf Show last February, something occurred numerous times that made me shake my head.
Now granted, it turned out the show wasn’t the best venue for a bookseller. People came to buy golf equipment and look for bargains and giveaways, not to buy a novel. As I recall, I sold about fourteen books at the show, and a few people said they would go to Amazon and buy the kindle version.
But close to a dozen or so people took the time to stop and ask about the book, pick it up and look at it, but eventually said they didn’t read. “I haven’t read a book since high school,” one man my age proudly proclaimed, grinning broadly. I grabbed the copy he was holding from him and said, “Geeze, don’t risk breaking your record now.” His grin widened.
I watch (too much) TV. I love movies. But there is nothing like reading. Reading is participative. I look at patterns of squiggles someone arranged on a page and pictures form in my mind. They are my images, based on what the organization of someone else’s symbols causes to blossom in my brain. The only thing I enjoy more than this magical process is creating imagery in the minds of others. I paint pictures in the heads of other humans. The really cool part is, every picture is different because every mind is different. The fundamentals are prescribed by the information I put on the page, but the details are envisioned individually based on the personal experience of the reader. How incredible!
My immediate reaction was to look down on those who said they didn’t read. Upon reflection, I feel sorry them. They miss out on a miraculous process that readers enjoy.
Go read something. Better yet, go write something. I’ll read it. I’m eager to make my mind your canvas.