She was an avid reader from an early age, and though she grew up in Seattle and Baltimore, Lauren Larson especially loved the New Yorker magazine and all the fascinating subcultures its writers would explore, from orchid thieves in Florida to students at fancy prep schools along one stretch of Madison Avenue in Manhattan. When it came time to attend college, Lauren considered majoring in anthropology. But she learned that the discipline would require her to focus on one community for years at a time. She instead chose journalism. “This way I can immerse myself in a subject for maybe one fiscal quarter,” she says, “and then move on to the next thing that seizes my attention.”

I first encountered Lauren’s writing about five years ago, when she was freelancing in New York City after editing for five years at the men’s magazine GQ. Her prose was so engaging, and she had earned such respect as a story shepherd, that in early 2020 we persuaded her to move to Austin and edit and write for Texas Monthly. Since then, Lauren has brilliantly chronicled everything from feral hogs and pet miniature cattle to a new approach to eating that she dubbed “Texatarian.” (One consumes plants except when the best smoked brisket is on offer.) Lauren is blessed with a keen eye for the telling detail and for the incongruous. Her writing voice is at once warm and sharply appraising, enthusiastic and self-deprecating.

These qualities are evident in Lauren’s feature profile of East Texas native Colleen Hoover, the best-selling novelist of the last two years, beginning on page 96 After reading Hoover’s 2018 novel Verity, Lauren described it as “a psychological thriller that’s extremely up my alley.” She then “started seeing Colleen’s name everywhere.” As she began talking with the novelist, Lauren was intrigued to hear that someone who recently had four book s ranked among the top ten best-sellers has suddenly found herself unable to get started on her next book. “I can relate to that,” Lauren said. Hoover’s writer’s block seems to have been triggered, at least in part, by her reading of nasty comments about her work on social media. “I can relate to that too,” Lauren said. “I think most people can these days.”

What explains Hoover’s popularity? “Her books move fast,” Lauren said. “They’re gritty. They’re sexy. She’s a master of tension and plot twists.” Some reviewers turn their noses up because “she’s not a writer’s writer. She doesn’t luxuriate in the prose. But she’s a very entertaining storyteller.”

As she planned her first visit to Hoover’s home, Lauren was delighted to find that it sat about eighty miles northeast of Dallas, near a site on the bucket list that she maintains of odd places she wants to visit. “I had to make a stop,” she exclaimed, “at the glass restrooms in Sulphur Springs!” That’s right: as Texas Monthly reported in 2013, Sulphur Springs offers two public toilets in its downtown square that are fitted with one-way mirrors. You can do your business while watching folks play with the giant chess set in the park next door, but, as Lauren observes, “they can’t watch you!”

Speaking of people-watching, Lauren got her fix during her first visit to the Margaritaville resort on South Padre Island, as part of our cover package on coastal activities beyond the beach. She found the place a magnet for “all these fascinating different groups: winter Texans, SpaceX workers, and people down for spring break”—many of them drinking too much but all getting along just fine. 

Lauren’s next adventure will be farther afield. About the time this issue reaches readers, she plans to be trekking in the Peruvian Andes. But she won’t be sampling the local delicacy of grilled guinea pig. It doesn’t fit into her Texatarian diet.

This article originally appeared in the June 2024 issue of Texas Monthly with the headline “Our Swiss Army Knife.” Subscribe today.