I Know a Thing or Two about Books

I’ve loved them even before I could read them. We had quite a few in our house but not as many as I now have nor as many as my own children had. One of my earliest memories is of my father buying me a book on his way home from work when I was ill. He was a little disappointed when he realised that I’d already got the book but I loved him for it and it was a nice to have a brand new copy of a book that had become a little worn.

I envied my older cousins because they could read.

Then what joy when I could!

I discovered the delight of the library when I as seven and in the Easter holiday of my second year at junior school I went to the library every day, taking out two new books, reading them and returning them the next day.

Grammar School, with English Lit, French and German A-levels and then a BA in French and German made me read even more, much of it in those two other languages.

Reading also became my default activity. It may now be writing.

So I now know how stories work. I know how to build characters. I know how to put words together so that the language flows well. I show instead of telling, I can edit.

I know there are three stages of editing. I move on as a writer so that it’s always worth editing gain and again.  

Rejection is part of acceptance.

I know that books have blank pages at the end. Text is usually blocked, at least in fiction, but not for some readers.

I know how book covers work and I recognise a good one when I see it. Yet I don’t like all of them.

I can write a blurb but I don’t enjoy doing it.

I have a fair understanding of how supply and demand work, how the supply chain works, and the importance of ISBNs. I know not to make a god of Amazon but to respect it just the same. It puzzles at times. Most of the time, actually.    

I still love books and going to book shops. There is just something about them….