Once Upon A Time...

Reading by Flashlight by Suzanne M. Schweikert M.D. Copyright 2004 All Rights Reserved In this column, Dr. Suzanne Schweikert explores the impact of having read too many good books when a kid. Comments, thoughts, and personal experiences on kid lit and related topics are welcome. Email: Dr.Schweikert@WritersMonthly.com

It amazes me that many novelists don’t read novels. But I think I understand. It seems we all harbor a sneaking suspicion that reading someone else’s writing will affect our own in some preposterous, irreversible, and plagiaristic way. Also, we never have enough time to write as it is, and reading would be just one more drain on our already harried schedules.

But I believe this hurts our writing in the long run. What would you think of an astronaut who stops looking up at the stars at night, because she is afraid it might hinder her ability to read aeronautical instruments. She is giving up the very joy that led her to astronomy in the first place. Or imagine a chef, who refuses to eat at other restaurants, stating he can only afford to use his taste buds on his own creations. His sense of discovery and love of adventure become a faded memory, and his cooking no doubt suffers.

I know, these examples sound preposterous, but they are not all that different from a writer who doesn’t read books. By not reading, we are giving up the very essence of what drove us to become writers in the first place. Without experiencing that intense drive to turn the page, we can hardly expect ourselves to write stories that pull our readers along.

I was talking to a friend at dinner last month, and mentioned that I was writing a children’s novel. He confessed to me, quite sadly, that he no longer has time to read. What with a mortgage, a marriage, and a job that keeps him fulfilled, he is too busy. But, he recalled wistfully, when he was a boy, he regularly held battles with his parents about when he had to stop reading. As soon as he thought they were asleep, he would turn the lights back on and read until he was too exhausted to continue.

This compulsion to read is what we, as writers, are at risk of forgetting. Being drawn in for just one more page, one more chapter, is a memory for most readers, but it is not enough to sustain us as writers. For some reason (call it life), many who loved to read as children have lost the time, the way, the effort, or the belief that we can read books in our so-called adult lives. We think we can be writers, but not readers, and we stare at our instrument panels, but not the stars.

Lately, I have returned (ok, regressed) to reading children’s books. This is partly because I am writing a children’s novel, and partly because, I have to admit, they hook me in a way grown up novels often fail to do. Because they are about children, they take me back to a time when I could read for hours, lying in the backseat of the car, or during math class, with my textbook propped up as a screen. Only now, I find myself reading while standing in line at the DMV, or at my desk at work, with a medical journal propped up as a protective shield.

To make my sojourns into the realm of "kid lit" more official, I plan to devote this new column to children’s books and children’s book authors. I will review both older and newer books, some self-published and some industry marketed, and some classics and some unknowns. If you have any suggestions or favorites, please send them to me:KidLit@WritersMonthly.com

I do not promise that any of these books will reacquaint you with your inner child (you know, the one who wants to pull the covers over your head and, by the beam of a flashlight, read until your eyelids hurt so badly you have to prop them open with your fingers, leaving you barely able to pay attention to the teacher/boss the next day).

But I hope they will.

Next Month: The pros and cons of self-publishing a children’s book: A review of Jerry McCarty’s novel, George, A Dog to Treasure.

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The best way to get a puppy is to beg for a baby brother—and they'll settle for a puppy every time.
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