Reading, Writing, and How They’re Connected

After I finished posting my last blog entry (Note: If you haven't read it already, go read it first.), I remembered writing a post on a similar topic, and thought I should insert a link to tie the two together. Lo, and behold, it never was posted. Below, I am rectifying that.

Enjoy!

"Reading is the best way to learn to write well. Read as much as you can." - Lois Lowry

If you’re going to write, you want to do it well. What’s the point, otherwise? Fortunately, it’s an easy topic to study, because textbooks are everywhere. Just hop on down to your local paperback exchange, and pick up a cheap copy of the best use of the English language imaginable.

That’s right, if you’re going to write, you need to spend a good deal of time reading as well. It’s how you know what works on a page and what doesn’t. When your protagonist is stuck and you want the reader to feel what he or she is going through, think back to some of your favorite reads, ones where you felt connected to the characters. How did that author do it? What words on the page touched your heart, or ignited your mind, or made your eyes well up?

“Writers do not read for fun.” – John Irving

Since I started writing, I’ve found that I read differently than I used to. It’s not enough anymore to simply be entertained; I need to understand why I found it entertaining, or boring, or exciting. I look more carefully at how sentences and paragraphs and chapters are put together. I am more aware now of the crafting that goes into this craft.

It’s been quite a while since I picked up a book just to enjoy it. The Gathering Storm is sitting on my desk waiting for me to crack its pages, but then it’s been a while since I read any Robert Jordan and enjoyed it, so that’s not a fair example. My problem with Robert Jordan is this: he doesn’t get to the point.

More on that in a bit.

"To be able to write one good Book on some Subjects, a man must have been at the trouble to read an hundred." - Robert Boyle (1627-1691)

I participate in two book groups, both of which draw liberally from classic literature. Two books a month is a pretty ambitious pace, if you have a real life besides, anyway. It is a pace I can’t always keep up, but I have definitely expanded the number of great authors to whose works I have been exposed. I have marveled at Dumas’ plot structure in The Count of Monte Cristo. I have learned bits and pieces of how to portray human flaws from William Shakespeare. Jane Austen showed me how to write vibrant characters. J. R. R. Tolkien, George Eliot, and Louis L’Amour have all taught me that protagonists don’t have to be complex to be heroic. My list could easily expand to fifty or a hundred books that have taught me something, but you get the point, I’m sure.

Reading great books gives you a pattern of greatness that you can use in your own work. It is almost inevitable that your writing will emulate that of the writers you admire most. After all, why would you write a book you wouldn’t enjoy reading?

"There are books of which the backs and covers are by far the best parts." - Charles Dickens

The other extreme is also a distinct possibility, however, when you start spreading out the blanket of topics and authors you peruse. More than likely, you’ll find yourself reading through some work and you’ll say to yourself, “I wouldn’t have written it that way,” or, “Why does she take three pages to get to the point?” or even just, “Yuck.”

A couple of months ago I read Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged. All three of those thoughts crossed my mind. More than once. Now don’t get me wrong, taken as a whole it is a remarkable work, told in an intriguing manner. But I would have done it differently. A lot of that, I am sure comes from the fact that the book was more about propounding her views of economics and morality, and lack of same, than it was about telling a great story for the sake of the story. The more I found my own views diverging from hers, the less I enjoyed the book.

“If you have an important point to make, don't try to be subtle or clever. Use a pile driver. Hit the point once. Then come back and hit it again. Then hit it a third time--a tremendous whack.” - Sir Winston Churchill

As an example, near the end of the book (p. 923 in my version) the leader of a group of industrialists co-opts all the radios in the country to make a speech to explain the logic of his position. His position, of course, has been well documented for the reader in the 922 previous pages. Yet, Ms. Rand takes the next 57 pages to lay it all out yet again. I have heard it said that any philosophy that can be summed up in a nutshell belongs there, but, honestly, fifty-seven pages? I wouldn’t have written it that way, myself, because I found the reading of it so distasteful. Not because I disagreed with everything, or even most of, what was said, but rather because she wouldn’t just get to the point.

“I could go on if you’d like.” – Monty Python

I could go on if you’d like, but I think you get my point.

Mimicking Another's Style

A bit of advice I received four or five years ago has stuck with me since, though it has not always been easy to follow. The advice was that before embarking on writing, you should read 1,000 books. The point of the advice was that in order to be good at writing, you have to see good writing. You have to pick out those elements that speak to you, and try to incorporate them into your own writing.

As part of that pursuit, I finished reading David Copperfield, by Charles Dickens today. I should say I finished listening to the audio book today, thanks to my Father's Day gift of an iPod, and its infinitely handy 2X speed button. At any rate, the elements I gleaned from this classic work are surrounding Dickens' mastery of the English language, and how the dialog pertaining to each character is somewhat unique to that person.

I actually read the book as part of my participation in a Classics Book Group. Since I needed to send out a reminder, I took the opportunity to mimc the writing style of the character Micawber from that work:

29 July

My dearest friends and acquaintances,

I am certain that you have all been made cognizant of my current state, having been dismissed from my situation by that Heep of infamy, one whom it were superfluous to call Demon, he having also laid ignominy at my feet to stain the upstanding name of Wilkins Micawber, further setting the constabulary on my heels with false charges and forged proofs of unwarranted debts.

To all of which I say: Welcome poverty! Welcome misery, welcome houselessness, welcome hunger, rags, tempest, and beggary! Mutual confidence will sustain us to the end!

I feel overwhelmed with gratitude at that unflagging confidence, to which I have just referred, shown by the friend of my youth, the companion of earlier days, that worthy minister at the sacred alter of friendship – in short, Master David Copperfield, who is known to you all. It was at his insistence that each of you should be invited to attend a gathering, to commence promptly at half past seven, the evening of XX, at the home of his remarkable aunt, located at XX, for the singular purpose of sharing with me your collective wisdom, guidance, and insights. I have, according to the expressed wishes of my darling Emma, who never shall desert me, thrown down the gauntlet before the world; we shall hereafter see whether or not the world shall pick it up.

With such remarkable assistance offered, I have no doubt I shall, please Heaven, begin to be more beforehand with the world, and to live in a perfectly new manner, if, in short, anything turns up.

Remaining always, your devoted servant, &c, &c,

Wilkins Micawber