Readers often ask authors why they write and who influenced them along the way. Here’s my story.
Let’s start with the influences.
My mother taught me the value and power of words. Throughout her life, she encouraged me to read and write anything and everything. When she was 18, she had an opportunity to study writing at a small women’s college in North Carolina. During her first year, her mother became ill, and my mom left college to care for her, trading her dreams of being an author for a career as a legal secretary. Even there, her respect for language served her well. She had a rough life. She and my alcoholic father separated when I was five, and he died when I was eight. My mom never remarried. As she neared retirement, she took writing classes at Rollins College in Winter Park, where she nailed A’s against the much younger competition. Author Robert Newton Peck was her favorite professor, and he continually encouraged her. She continued to read voraciously and wrote many short stories and one novel, but she was never published. She died at 84.
My seventh grade English teacher taught me to appreciate the structure of language. Through law school and across my diverse career in law and business, I used her advice about the importance of clarity in composition. She’s the one who showed me how to diagram a sentence and, more importantly, how to use that tool to create clear, precise text. Dozens of law students, lawyers and business colleagues have smiled as I’ve literally diagrammed a questionable sentence during a drafting session.
My twelfth grade English teacher taught me about substance, content, symbolism and all those things you learn as a senior in high school. Although I had read a lot of fiction and nonfiction when I was younger, I didn’t appreciate the story-telling force or the social and personal impact of real literary fiction until she inspired me. Growing up poor, I fell in love with John Steinbeck’s work.
At the University of Florida, I was invited to participate in a high honors seminar in the College of Arts and Sciences. It was a small program with no more than 20 students. We spent the year reading and discussing all sorts of fiction and nonfiction works. The seminar was led by a kindly English professor who also helped us polish our resumes for Phi Beta Kappa. Those invigorating discussions taught me how to use writing to engage and influence readers and, through them, the world around us.
During my first year at Harvard Law School, I learned a lot about reading and writing. First, I discovered that reading like a lawyer means constantly thinking critically about what you’re reading. Like many first-year law students, my reading speed crashed, even when reading fiction rather than case law. But my ability to assess what I was reading grew. Second, I learned that anything worth saying needs to be supported by something—and that opinions need to be clearly separated from facts. Third, I realized I had to take my efforts at precision and clarity to a whole new level, partly because of the nature of legal writing but mostly because of the intense competition at Harvard Law. Finally, I saw more than ever the power good writing can have in successfully advocating ideas.
When I was at law school, I wrote my first law review article, which was published in the Harvard Civil Rights-Civil Liberties Law Review. It was about the first amendment aspects of campaign finance limitations. That sold me on legal writing. As a young lawyer, I published a more extensive article in the University of Florida Law Review about crafting a workable business code of ethics. With more than 300 footnotes, it was, shall we say, rather well documented. But it was also well received, long before business ethics had the cache it has today. It motivated me to keep writing.
In my early years of law practice, I developed some expertise in computer contracts. Collaborating with a former computer salesman for Honeywell, I co-authored a trade book with Joe Auer called Computer Contract Negotiations, which was published by Van Nostrand Reinhold. That book was followed by a sequel called Major Equipment Procurement. Those books taught me the practical side of book publishing and working with a respected publishing house. They also whet my appetite for more writing. I dreamed then about the idea of doing a novel someday, although my VNR editor warned me my trade books would offer much greater financial success.
During this same period, I wrote a variety of business and legal articles for newsletters and magazines, mostly on computer negotiations and bank mergers. I enjoyed the writing and the exposure helped build my reputation and legal practice.
Once I moved from law into investment banking and running public and private companies, my writing for publication gave way to writing for my business. Building on my earlier experience, I honed my ability to communicate with employees, shareholders and other investors. Unlike a lot of CEOs, I took an active role in crafting and editing press releases, annual reports, shareholder letters and even marketing materials. Throughout it all, I gained more experience in communicating accurately and effectively.
So, with this learning experience, what do I read?
As I’m naturally curious, I read a lot of nonfiction, both to understand how things work and to understand what they mean to our lives and culture. While I read some business books, I often come away disappointed, feeling that the best ideas in many 300-page books could have been more effectively put into a long article. My exceptions are a few corporate biographies about some spectacular business successes or failures, such as those recorded in The Smartest Guys in the Room, Eccentric Orbits and Bad Blood.
I read a few of the many rabidly partisan nonfiction political books, primarily as research for my own writing. I tire of most of them very quickly. Although I enjoy historical fiction and a good biography, I’m very selective in my tastes.
The nonfiction authors who have impacted my writing usually bring two benefits. First, they tell me interesting facts I need to know. Second, they make me think. Current writers who have filled that bill for me include: Tom Friedman, Yuval Noah Harari, J.D. Vance, and Fareed Zakaria. When I’m dealing with facts in my fiction writing, I try to emulate their clarity, attention to detail and thoughtful analysis.
I also read a lot of fiction. Although I go through periods of reading classic “blow-em-up” espionage novels from all the best names in that genre, the fiction authors who have most influenced my own writing usually tell more sophisticated stories. They write what I call intellectual thrillers. I’m also influenced by fiction writers who effectively integrate real-world science, politics or other facts into their stories. A few examples include Dan Brown, Michael Crichton, Ken Follett, John LeCarre and Dan Silva. They are among the writers who have inspired me to write fiction aimed at the intersection of politics, technology and social change.
With those influences, the question remains: Why do I write?
First and foremost, I write to communicate. I write to engage and connect with my readers, clearly and convincingly, whatever the content and whatever the purpose.
For nonfiction, I write to help the reader gain knowledge about something the reader cares about, whether that’s a new company policy about health insurance or how to sell their business.
For fiction, I write to educate as well as entertain. I want my readers to take away something to think about, and perhaps talk about, long after they close the book. I want my work to stimulate engagement, not only between me and my readers, but between my readers and their friends and colleagues.
When I use the word engagement, I don’t necessarily mean agreement. I want to encourage reader reaction and thoughtful discussion, pro and con, favorable and unfavorable. Sometimes that means baiting my readers to react to tropes or clichés, or having my characters do the baiting for me. Sometimes it means using dark characters who may not appear to be the nicest people (initially and maybe even later). Sometimes it means loading in more factual background about technology, politics or social issues than some readers may find comfortable learning about.
With Intentional Consequences, I used real politics and technology to drive a classic thriller plot about a cyber conspiracy to dominate the 2020 election and restructure American democracy. The story is fiction, but the fact-setting and the underlying issues are real. I wanted to use the book to challenge social and political stereotypes and encourage my readers to consider how current political, technology and social changes are affecting American culture and democracy. Unlike typical partisan nonfiction books, Intentional Consequences is neither “red” nor “blue.” It’s a “purple” book that takes shots at both sides and demonstrates how our angry partisan politics and advanced technologies are endangering our democracy. The underlying political message is a cry for less bitterness and more rationality in our politics. But different readers will have different reactions to the characters and their viewpoints, based on their political and social views.