Like Mary Anna, I, too, read anything and everything in my path all through the years. The small print on my toothpaste as I brushed. The back of the tomato soup can as my mother prepared my daily home from school for lunch. This month’s Miss Subway, when I had my first job in the city. I could give you a litany of how many things I read in any given day as I voraciously searched for words.
But what was I reading this week? Alas. Diverted. Sports pages in print, watching the games on TV. Hey, this is Giants country. Latest, following political stuff. Then, the horrendous news of Mother Nature’s attack back east.
Also, those smarty-pants like Camille and Priscilla – they read such intelligent things. Do I want to reveal my guilty pleasure readings? Like one week when I decided to read books written by women named Lisa. (Four different ones.) Or that I had to read Marshall Karp’s new novel. I met Marshall at one of our writer conventions and he is one funny writer, his mysteries are scathing take-offs on Hollywood baddies, and I don’t mean the criminals. He just did one of those co- books with James Patterson called NYPD RED. I had to see what that was like.
But hey, in my defense I was also catching up with my sisters-in-crime books this year. You know - like Ann and Penny and Staci and Kelli - you know who you are, so, there.
But I bet I had a reading experience not one of any of our writer friends had.
At age five, I was reading the newspaper (yes, I read that early) at the kitchen table by candlelight. Whilst turning a page I set the table on fire. My mother was next door visiting a neighbor. Now, I bet you all want to know what happened next.