Over protective?

Before diving into my post today, I wanted to mention that our own Patty Smiley had a new book come out this week. Many people don't catch the signifigance of having a book enter the market. For a writer it is the culmination of pouring yourself into something that holds keys to who you are. We here at Naked Authors are all very proud of Patty and Short Change.

Reading is genetic

My father was a reader, polishing off a paperback every night. From John D. MacDonald to Ross MacDonald the hallway leading to my parents’ bedroom had a bookshelf crammed with all kinds of paperbacks. Thousands of them. My father had read each one. I still have a number of them in storage, unable to get rid of something my father loved so much.

I believe my father passed on the reading gene to me. I have always been a big reader (Now that title is more literal). I still remember how I felt reading certain books. The Exorcist and The Stand were the two books that I had to put down and restart later due to fear. I admit it, books about the devil scare the crap out of me.

Now I have my own bookshelves stuffed with books. Most of them signed and from authors I know. I also have a daughter who loves to read. The gene apparently skipped my son.

One evening a few months ago she asked if she could read one of the books I wrote. I looked at her beautiful little face and said, “When you’re older.”
Emily held her ground. “How old?” I thought about a few passages from Walking Money and said, “Twenty-eight, the same age you can date.”

She accepted the pronouncement and went back to a young adult book. Then she came back, wanting to know if I had books by other people that I’d allow her to read. I gave her a few novels. Now she tears through stacks of my books. She seems to lean toward legal thrillers which I like because there’s usually less violence

and better language. She’s read all of the Solomon vs Lord novels. I’ve told Paul he has a lifetime fan.

As much as it pains me to admit it, Emily rated both of Jeff Shelby’s books as excellent. She couldn’t wait to read Wicked Break the night after finishing Killer Swell.

She pulled out a Ken Bruen novel and I told she’d have to be at least thirty. Then Gun Monkeys by Victor Gischler and I said she could read it at twenty-six. Then she picked up Tough Luck by Jason Starr and I told her she wasn’t allowed to ever read one of Jason’s books. Ever.

I even have a copy of the Jason Starr / Ken Bruen collaboration, Bust. One of the chapters opens with a quote from Walking Money. I couldn't even let her read the quote.

She held up a Tess Guerritsen novel. I thought about the intelligent police work and medical examiner science and told Emily she’d be rea

dy for it in nine to thirteen years. Same with anything by Joe R. Lansdale.

Then she picked up Heartbreak Lounge by Wallace Stroby. A classic noir novel that I recommend to everyone. Except my daughter. I told her she’d have to be fifty. She said, “But Mr. Stroby is so nice.” My response, “But his book isn’t.”

She pointed at Bloody Mary by J.A. Konrath, and, like any parent, I said, “You’re not even allowed to meet Mr. Konrath.”

Maybe I’m over-protective. I’ll live with it.