Tag: writer

A Letter of Gratitude to Those Who Read Books

You are the ones who will have the wisdom, the vocabulary, the critical reasoning and the empathy to make the world a better place.

Where would writers be without readers?

Nothing makes me smile more than a bookstore full of happy readers.

After the first of the New Year, I will begin in earnest to write my second novel. Today, as I contemplate the energy, creativity and mental stamina it will require to write another 100,000 words, the thing that propels me forward is the possibility that someone out there will read the book and hopefully get something out of it.

But I know that reading 100,000 words requires a lot of energy too. Unlike passively watching a TV show or movie, laughing at Instagram reels, or listening to a podcast while we apply our nail polish—reading is an active pursuit. It requires you to sit down, focus and commit precious time to immersing yourself in another world.

So many good books, so little time….

According to recent polls, the average American adult spends an average of just 15-20 minutes a day reading. Some of that time is spent perusing emails, texts, news headlines and social media feeds, rather than reading books. Many who spend a good part of their day reading for work or school turn to other forms of entertainment for relaxation.

One Gallup poll confirmed that Americans are reading an average of three fewer books a year (roughly a dozen per year) than they did five years ago. The decline is not because fewer Americans are reading, but because those who do—especially college graduates, women and older Americans—are reading less.

This development caught my attention because these three groups form the target audience for my novels. Expecting these folks to not only buy my books, but to sit down and read them when so many other things are competing for their attention, is a big ask. All I can do is remind my potential readers of the many benefits of reading books for entertainment, information, self-improvement and enjoyment—and hope for the best.

The Bookworm in East Aurora dedicates and entire section of the store to local authors

A major benefit, I would argue, is that reading books introduces people to new words and improves vocabulary better than any other medium. Books help us improve our concentration and cognitive skills like critical thinking, reasoning and analysis. Reading is brain exercise that requires vision and imagination. It may even help prevent Alzheimer’s in our later years.

As I close out my first year as a published author, a big THANK YOU to all my readers.

A book is also a good friend to have if you’re lonely, stressed or even depressed. Studies have found that a nighttime routine of reading a book can help you sleep longer and better.

A good book also creates empathy. Diving into a novel about an unfamiliar group or culture can create understanding and connections. I hope, for example, that by reading Virgin Snow, people who did not grow up in Buffalo during that time and place will gain some insight into what life was like then, and why some of us turned out the way we did.

To those who still read a good book or two every month, I salute you. To those in Book Clubs who take the time to digest and discuss the books that they read–you have my deepest respect. You are the ones who will have the wisdom, the vocabulary, the critical reasoning and the empathy to make the world a better place. Yes, reading is good for you, but what you learn from reading is good for the rest of us too. And I for one, don’t know what I’d do without you, dear readers.

So thank you.

Do you read books? And if so, what kinds of books do you like to read? What benefits does reading provide you that I haven’t mentioned above? Please share your thoughts in the comments, below.

Did you buy a copy of Virgin Snow? If so, check to see if you made the gallery of readers at the Virgin Snow tab above, or search on the link below.

Virgin Snow, A Novel

Moxie Gardiner is a writer, gardener, and traveler who grew up on the West Side of Buffalo, NY. In a previous life she was a journalist, magazine editor, speech writer, and policy wonk. Back in the day she made three solo parachute jumps, flew in an F-15 fighter jet, and crawled through mud pits at the Jungle Operations Training Course in Panama. She now meditates, grows tomatoes, and enjoys a good online Zumba routine at home on winter evenings. Virgin Snow is her first novel.

It Bit Me on the Rocks of Lake Erie

Lake Erie shoreline. Photo by Moxie Gardiner.

Several readers have put the question to me: “Moxie, your website says ‘A West Side Girl in the Big Wide World.’ We’ve heard about your West Side experiences. What’s this ‘Big Wide World’ stuff?” Fair enough. Living on the West Side of Buffalo shaped the outline of who I am. The big wide world has certainly filled in the details.

Since I left Buffalo, I’ve lived in four US states and a foreign capital, visited 45 countries and all 50 states. My most recent adventures were in Africa, where among other things, I caught a leopard (on camera) that was stalking me in the dark. On my journeys I’ve seen extreme poverty and extraordinary wealth, spectacular scenic beauty and tragic wastelands, humanity at its best and at its worst. Always, I keep a journal.

As a writer, my job is to look for and contemplate universal truths. A recent question I’ve been pondering is, what prompts a person to leave the comfort of their home to travel? What are we seeking on our sojourns, especially now when one can “travel” anywhere without leaving the couch, courtesy of the Internet? I’m not talking about annual beach vacations or trips to visit friends and family over the holidays. I am talking about traveling to distant lands that are culturally unfamiliar, sometimes uncomfortable, and not without risk. These are the places that tend to attract me because I’m a sucker for unexpected experiences, for the serendipitous surprise.

I think I can trace the day I was first bitten by the travel bug to a place just 20 miles south of Buffalo. I was about 11 years old. Each summer, our family would pile into the station wagon and head to our rented cottage in Angola, NY and a windswept beach nearby called Point Breeze. This particular summer, my cousin and I were allowed to leave the family beach blanket and walk a half mile up the beach by ourselves to a rocky outcropping we grandly called “the sea cliffs.”

From a distance we could see the waves crashing over the slate rocks, and on stormy days the spray would leap 20 feet in the air. Wouldn’t it be wonderful, we thought, to sit on those rocks and get splashed by that wild spray? We hurried along the pebbly beach as fast as our flip-flops would take us. We scrambled up the hill, and as soon as our parents were safely out of sight, climbed carefully down the embankment to where water met rock. We sat and waited for the spray. To our disappointment, the waves had settled down and lapped gently at the rocks below us. We inched our way down further. The waves came up around our ankles, so we scooted down another foot, and waited.

Whether the wind shifted or it was simply the normal fluctuation of the waves, I’ll never know. But the next wave that hit came up over our heads. I’ll never forget the force of the water as it pulled us into the lake and the somersaults we turned as the water churned us below the rocks. We came up coughing and gasping for air. I looked at my cousin as we treaded water—and we started laughing hysterically. “Let’s do it again!” we both said and climbed back onto the rocks.

How did that prompt my love for travel and adventure? I learned that day about the adrenaline rush of exploration, of taking risks, the electricity of finding yourself in danger, and the thrill, afterwards, of being alive. Why, if I could survive this, I could survive anything! Sitting on those rocks I would let my mind wander to the Wide World of Sports and the cliff divers in Mexico, then on to climbing the Great Pyramids of Giza, Machu Picchu, perhaps even Mount Everest. My 11-year-old self decided that nothing would stop me from doing what I wanted to do, as long as I didn’t let fear get in the way.

Sure, there have been a few downsides. I’ve been injured, sick, lost, robbed, and harassed on my travels, and survived a few scary plane flights. I’ve had to flee more than one burning building, wear a flak jacket on a road favored by terrorists, and hold my breath when a bus driver did a u-turn in front of six lanes of oncoming traffic. But oh, the stories I could tell!

The big wide world is a fabulous place that provides grist for the writer, a classroom for the intellectually curious, and cultural and culinary immersion for us rank sensualists. Not least of all, it gives us a better appreciation of home and the things we sometimes take for granted.

Do you have an interest in travel, dear reader? Do you remember when you were first bitten by the travel bug? If so, drop me a line. If there is enough interest, I’ll add a few travel blogs to my website.

Let Me Introduce Myself

Please call me Moxie.

No, it’s not the name I was given at birth. It was bestowed upon me late one night after a drinking contest in a bar…but that’s a story for another day. Suffice it to say it is the name I prefer to be called.

Here are a few things you should know about me before you decide whether it is worth taking the time to read my blog. I’m a writer and a dreamer. A Master Gardener and a schemer. I like the smell of warm wood and the sound of insects in the evening. I like island nations that cruise lines don’t visit, and the underbellies of airplanes when they fly over the setting sun. I cry when I hear music played in a minor key, or the song of the white-throated sparrow. I love cannoli, limoncello, and snow.

At one point in my life I wrote over 100 speeches. At another I published dozens of magazine articles. I never look at any of them, but I do enjoy perusing the 27 personal journals I have tucked away in an old steamer trunk. Most recently, I’ve written a novel about growing up on the West Side of Buffalo. Unfortunately, it makes me homesick every time I read it.

So reader, beware. My mind flits about like a honeybee in early spring, so there is no telling what I might blog about. I will try my best not to waste your time.