Last April, I was a guest speaker at the Kiwanis Club of Las Vegas as an accidental author. Why accidental? I didn't know what else to call becoming an author. I wasn't one of those book dreamers. I couldn't even read.
I grew up in what was then one street over from the wrong side of the tracks in Milwaukee, where my grandparents lived. They raised me. We were poor, and I had a handicap to overcome — having been born with club feet and relegated to casts and corrective shoes until I was 10.
Early confinement has a way of stimulating your imitation. While I played outside more and more as I got older, I fancied myself more as an artist, like the father I lost when I was two. I loved telling stories, but most were acted out or drawn on sweeping rolls of painter's paper my grandfather sometimes brought home from his seasonal job as a trades painter.
I had some talent, but my artistic prowess was problematic. I would fill my spelling book with drawings instead of words — an exercise that landed me in what my school called the "barracks." These were outside portables where other undesirable students (primarily minorities) could be failed forward.
The spelling book stunt wasn't the only reason I was relegated to the lower conveyor belt. Being a deceptively easy mark for bullies didn't help either. You learn to fight or flee early on. Yeah, I fought. What you don't learn to do is read.
"Needs Improvement" as a Badge of Honor
I couldn't read in the third grade. It was one of the reasons I intervened in my daughter's education as early as I did. I didn't want her to land in the same place I did, failing forward until somebody caught you.
In my case, it was my grandmother. She rejected the idea of sending an illiterate kid to the fourth grade. So, she pulled me from public school and re-enrolled me as a repeating third grader in a Catholic school. The school re-evaluated my skills, elevating me in some areas and getting me the help I needed in others.
Say what you will about secular schools. They work well when they work. I don't just mean stricter discipline (although there was that too). I mean, being Christian trumping all other labels. Suddenly, it didn't matter that my skin was a little darker (I'm part Native American), my last name was ethnic (it wasn't Becker at the time), or my feet were in corrective shoes. It felt like a fresh start — for a year, anyway.
Literacy comes from introductions, accidental and otherwise.
With my grandmother dying of cancer, the family decided to reunite me with my mother and her new family. One of the benefits was my step-father figure enjoyed watching movies and ordered HBO through the apartment complex.
I was hooked on fantasy after seeing the animated Hobbit (1977) and Lord of the Rings (1978). For those who remember, the first film only adapted The Fellowship of the Ring and The Two Towers. I had to save up $10 to get the four-book set on my 25-cent-a-week allowance. But it didn't matter. I was reading. I also played Dungeons & Dragons, which encourages reading, writing, and arithmetic.
Fantasy caught my fancy, but I didn't become an avid reader until my family moved to Las Vegas by way of Minnesota. In the seventh grade, my reading teacher let me turn in a book report on the thinnest book I could find. But then he challenged me to read Dune by Frank Herbert. Maybe it was my own move from the land of lakes (Caladan) to the desert (Arrakis), but Paul Atredes was someone I could relate to.
Art was still my first love, except for the fear and the doubt.
My mother didn't want me to become an artist because that was what my biological father did. I gravitated to psychology instead. Writing wasn't even on my radar despite having had a few poems published, a short story serialized in junior high, and a one-act play with subject matter deemed too adult for high school.
While I finished college only two classes shy of a dual major, I shifted toward advertising. I meant to do it with art, but the University of Nevada, Reno (by way of Whittier College) had an advertising track through journalism. They taught me to write — not fiction per se, but everything else: ads and articles.
Most of it was short-form storytelling: Magazine ads, television spots, radio commercials, billboards, news articles, and feature stories. And then more stories, blog posts, websites, campaign strategies, core message systems, and integrated marketing communication. I told other people's stories and then taught other people how to tell other people's stories, too, when I taught classes at UNLV.
It took almost 30 years and thousands of books before I realized I wanted to tell some of my stories. So that's what I did with the release of 50 States. And again with Ten Threads. And again with Third Wheel.
Readers are the people who help others discover reading.
Undoubtedly, my life would be very different had I not learned to read. Sure, I may have become an artist after all. Or not. I could have done a dozen jobs like those I did trying to pay my way through school. I might have been good at them, too, but I was never as satisfied as I am today.
As a reader, I feel like I haven't lived just one life but hundreds and thousands of others. It was an amazing gift that opened my eyes to opportunities. And it's a gift I hope to pay forward.
Sadly, right now in the United States, 48 million people cannot read above a third-grade level, which places our literacy rate at around 79 percent, which is a lower rate than it was in 1875. It peaked in the 1970s and has been declining ever since. Even among those who are literate, approximately half read at about a middle-school level.
In some cases, all they need is a reason to read and the right book to hook them. I recently opened an online bookshop to promote some titles on the eclectic shelf. (I'll be adding two non-fiction shelves very soon; one specifically for writers.) This week, I've also discounted all digital versions of my books: 50 States, Ten Threads (free for Kindle Unlimited members), and Third Wheel in an effort to promote literacy.
Maybe gifting the book or, better yet, promising to read along with someone can make a difference in their lives. That's how my children learned to love books — reading together with me, out loud, alternating paragraphs as we went. It's a technique that works at every age and one I hope you try with someone.
You never know. One day they could become an accidental author too. Or at minimum, part of a national solution. What do I mean by that? Bringing all adults to the equivalent of a sixth-grade reading level would generate an additional $2.2 trillion in annual income for the country, and save between $106–$238 billion in health care costs. We can do better. Good night and good luck.
