How to Read (If you want to be a writer)

Aspiring writers don’t have to look very far to find advice for the honing of their craft, particularly if they can pay to attend workshops and conferences. There are tutorials on the structure of a novel, the development of dynamic characters, tips for worldbuilding, effective plotting, and even templates for constructing the dreaded query letter. Such resources can be very helpful, though I’ve seen a few head-scratchers that have me questioning whether the advice-giver has ever encountered human beings, let alone written a book.

In any case, as useful as these suggestions can be, there is still no better way to improve one’s writing than the two most basic tasks: read widely and write copiously. Writing, obviously, is essential: you can’t make something better if you have nothing to work with. Dither around about hypothetical stories all you like, but until you put pen to paper and/or fingers to keyboard, zero writing is worth less than the lousiest actual writing you could produce. And reading: to understand how something is done well, you need to observe its effects in practice.

But making use of these tasks will require an analytical mind, which can be a significant challenge for creatively-minded artists. If you’re thinking too hard about the quality of your writing as you’re writing it, it could stifle all your creative flow. So don’t think about it in process! It’s quite a simple concept, but absolutely essential. While writing, use the creative part of your mind. Tap into it, and let it pour out without worrying whether it’s good or not. It’s only after you’ve written that first draft that you switch over to your analytical side and take a look at what works and what doesn’t. Many a well-meaning writer has never gotten past the first page because they keep wanting to edit it and polish it and perfect it before moving on. Move on. Write and write and write. Then analyze and revise and refine.

Meanwhile, our reading needs to be mindful. Does that sound like drudgery? True, it can be. It’s one of the downsides of being a writer — it can be a challenge shifting back to reading for pure enjoyment. But there can be joy in the analysis as well. It took me some time to come around to this way of thinking. I well remember how my younger self balked at the notion of analyzing literature. Wouldn’t that suck all the fun out of it? You can’t enjoy something if you’re picking it to pieces. As I ventured more into literary pursuits in high school and college, however, I discovered that digging deeper could often increase my appreciation of a great work. Noting the rhythm of sentence structure, alternating between long and short. Pinpointing instances of sensory descriptions, artfully dispersed throughout a narrative without becoming overcrowded. Considering the meaning of what isn’t explicitly stated just as much as the explicit. All those many examples of “show, don’t tell” that gently guide the readers into understanding rather than smashing them over the head with a mallet labeled “THIS IS WHAT I MEAN.”

This applies to books that didn’t work for you as well. Why did it fail to capture your interest? Was there some quirk of the writing that got on your nerves? Did a character feel underdeveloped? Do the word choices feel overly florid or stilted? What pitfalls do you want to avoid in your own writing?

Read out loud and listen to how the words flow. Close your eyes and envision what was just described. On the first read-through, mark the moments that seem like foreshadowing/Chekov’s gun scenarios, and see whether the pay-off happens later on. On later read-throughs, take note of details you might not have appreciated until the full resolution of the story. Read the ending first, then the beginning. Keep track of what you’re feeling at various points of the read — excited, thoughtful, sad, bored, elated, infuriated? Consider whether such an effect was the writer’s intent, and whether your own writing is inspiring your intended effects or not.

Yes, it’s work. Yes, it’s a different way to read than for sheer entertainment value. You don’t have to always read this way. Shut off your analytical brain when you’re just looking to decompress and enjoy a story. But the importance of reading thoughtfully cannot be overestimated for a writer. It’s the first and best way to witness writing in action and generate a set of tools for your own writing process.

Besides, it gives me an excuse to read and read, and read some more. I’m working very hard. It’s research.