Deborah’s comment yesterday got me thinking about phases my reading has traversed.

In high school I read a few books of merit, but mostly I read–um–trash. One title was Swing High Sweet Pussycat. I suppose it was romance. Amazon doesn’t list it so who knows. Toward the end of high school and in the years between it and college, I read essays (Paul Williams–the writer, not the singer), Jack Kerouac and the Beats, bought Swann’s Way by Proust though I never finished it, and tried to read Rod McKuen but it didn’t work. I read The Prophet and lots of books about California, especially Haight Ashbury. I wanted to travel to L.A. and do Primal Scream therapy, but I was too young. (Remember Janov?) I read books on gestalt therapy and read Jung.

At Goddard, I discovered Raymond Carver, the poet Stephen Dobyns, Michael Ryan (whom I later came to know), and the magical realists. Borge struck a chord. So did James Baldwin. I loved all of his novels, especially Giovanni’s Room. I loved Margaret Atwood’s Edible Woman and Surfacing. I admired Virgina Woolf and I believe I wanted to be her, though her writing wasn’t my favorite. Henry James’ Portrait of a Lady I liked very much.

Later, Terry McMillan’s first novel Mama impressed me, and so did Clarence Major’s first novel (he’s mostly known as a poet), Such was the Season. Joan Didion.

Then writers like Amy Hempel and T. Jefferson Parker (my favorite crime writer) and Don DeLillo came onto the radar screen. And now….now there are too many to mention. I’ve made lists on my Web site, penonfire.com and at Readerville.com, on my author’s page, but they are inconclusive lists because they just keep growing. I just finished Lolly Winston’s Happiness Sold Separately and LOVED it.

I hate writing about my favorite books because as soon as I say what one is, another pops up.

What are you reading and how has your reading changed over the years?

My friend Jordie called me yesterday about an op-ed piece in the Los Angeles Times: “What Hemingway didn’t have to do.” The piece was by Michelle Slatalla who wrote about how authors, these days, must do promotion. Jordie is upset at the state of publishing and wishes things were different, like in the old days, when writers wrote and publishers promoted.

I don’t know what to say about this. It depresses him, this state of publishing, Me, I accept it. Doesn’t hurt that from ’89 to ’96 I had a small publicity biz and thought it was fun to get a client’s name in the paper or get a reporter to call him/her just because I wrote up a press release and sent it to the paper.

I’m not an extrovert and yet I do find it fun to give talks and teach. I mean, you can only write so much, and then it’s time to get off your butt and get out of the house.

Jordie’s an extrovert so I doubt this is the problem. Maybe he’s too much an extrovert and longs to be able to sit at his desk and muse and write; he’s a wonderful writer. But he’s disgusted with the publishing biz and I wonder if this discouragement causes him to just not write so much anymore.

I can see it from the publisher’s point of view (the problem with being a Libra is you can see things from not just both sides, but multiple sides–from each facet!).

Publishers publish books and need to make money doing so. Publishers aren’t exactly big business. So what should they do? If they publish a book and it just sits there, who’s fault is it? It’s theirs for not promoting it, but isn’t it also the writer’s fault, for not doing what he/she can do to get it out there? And if no one is buying, who’s fault is that? Good books do sell via word of mouth, so a writer can do virtually no PR and if readers love it, it will sell.

It’s a complicated issue with no easy solution. There’s so much else to take up a reader’s time. You’re reading this blog, yes? At one time there was no blog and no Internet and so you’d read the paper or–ahem–a book.

On the other hand, maybe you read as many books as you did before the Internet. I do. I just don’t watch TV anymore–except, of course, for the Turner Classic Movie channel. Yes, I’ve seen To Kill a Mockingbird numerous times and I will continue to, so shush.

What do we do, as writers, to support the publishing industry? Buy new books or used books? Borrow books from the library or a friend? This doesn’t really support publishing. Or, if you write poetry, do you buy books of poetry? Or look up poems on the Internet? We’ve got to buy books to keep the machine lubricated.

Don’t we? Or do we hide out heads under bushel baskets and chairs, like Rosie is doing above? Slatalla came up with a creative way to promote her book–by writing a piece for the L.A. Times. The piece might be construed as complaining or whining about publishing, when in fact she’s having fun with it. No?

The shades of fall–fall back east, that is, or up in the mountains–are back on the mantle. Here in the O.C., a few blocks from the beach, yards and trees glow green. If you want to see evidence of fall, you look to the hills. The South gets hurricanes; Southern California is headed into fire season.

It’s Friday afternoon. Travis is at the beach with a friend and his mom. Brian’s out doing errands. I just worked on Starletta’s Kitchen using the timer; the timer works over and over again, no matter how long you’ve been writing. Once you set it you just can’t turn it off. You’ve got to write till it goes off on its own.

I bought a paper shredder today. TC Boyle’s novel (Talk Talk) and his words on my show–“I shred, and then I burn”–are fresh in my mind. It shreds credit cards, staples, paper. Cross-cut shreds.

Travis is shredding his workbooks from the 6th grade, now that he’s veering into 7th.

Brian needed a guitar pick and Travis was reluctant to give up one of his 100+ guitar picks from his pirate box. I thought of Billy Collins’ excellent poem, The Lanyard. I cannot read this poem aloud straight through without getting a little choked up. It’s in his newest collection, The Trouble with Poetry and I believe he reads it on the show (accessible at http://writersonwriting.blogspot.com).

Billy continues to be one of my favorite poets and certainly one of my favorite radio show guests. He has the rare ability to be whimsical and moving about an item as seemingly simple as a lanyard.

Here is the lanyard Travis made for me.

These last days of summer always make me feel a bit bittersweet. But it’s been a good one. Travis turned 12 a couple of weeks ago and still likes to hang with me and Bry.

We spent the last few days in the desert–swimming, mostly. Temperature was 120 degrees at 3 p.m., down to 95 at night. Last night at eight-something, after dinner at the Blue Coyote and a stop at Vons where a checkout woman recognized Brian–went to high school with him, actually. She said, “Brian?”–we went to the pool. Night surrounded the aqua pool with pockets of underwater light and a quarter moon burned yellow, sinking into the San Jacinto Mountains. Standing in the water, swimming around, Brian and Travis threw a ball back and forth. I lay back on a chaise longue and watched them, and watched the sky, pocked with stars.

They got out for a moment.

“There’s the tail of Scorpio,” said Brian. We three looked up.

I like novels and stories that take place in the desert. My friend Allison has written one and we’re hoping an agent bites.

Cicadas during the day, crickets at night.

Has anyone ever seen a cicada?

I’ve written about this before; I’m writing about it again. The Sports section has some of the best writing in the entire newspaper. It’s active writing, often with anecdotes, often that tell a story.

We root for the Angels baseball team in this house. We’re not fanatics, but we’ve gone to games and we watch games on TV. So I scan the Los Angeles Times Sports section for Angels stories.

Yesterday (8/27/06), a piece by Bill Plaschke caught my eye and got me reading: “Angels Win This Battle by Choosing Not to Fight.”

The piece begins like this: “They scored a dozen runs, slapped around 16 hits, slid into half a dozen doubles, sprinted to a couple of stolen bases, ran around Angel Stadium like kids trying to outrace the last shadows of summer.”

I love that beginning. What a wonderful lead. It’s visual, active; it’s got the beat.

I suggest to my beginning students that they read the Sports section. You’ll find few passive verbs and dull, abstract writing in the Sports section. Pieces like Plaschke’s demonstrate active, visual writing.

I read the Sports section–to improve my writing as well as to read about our Angels.

Find Plaschke’s columns, go to latimes.com/plaschke.

(The photo above is from a Friday night Angel’s game in Anaheim.)