It’s no secret that to be a good writer, you need to be a good reader. But I’d take this idea one step further: the act of reading like a writer is as important as the act of writing itself.
Bold statement? Maybe. All I know is I’ve learned as much about literary craft from reading as I have from writing. From nerding-out over stories and books, pulling them apart with close analytical reading, finding the marrow in their bones.
Reading won’t give us the absolute truth of an author’s intention with their work, but it does offer insights in to the effect their choices have on us, and that alone will help us write better.
A simple line of advice that has stayed with me is this: ‘read once for pleasure, twice to learn’. When we read for pleasure, it’s about being drawn into the story world, finding surprise, tension and suspense. Even ambiguity. It’s about being intrigued by characters and settings that come alive our minds, or make us want to chase understanding. It’s about the author making us care enough to carry on, sentence after sentence. When we read to learn, we are picking apart the ‘how’ of all those elements with the intent of absorbing those into our own writing chops.
This isn’t unique to writing. I trained as a musician, and love listening to music. But if I wanted to learn how to compose better, I would not just be a listener, I’d be an aural detective, analysing musical form and structure, dynamics, tempo, timbre, tonality, rhythm and texture.
It can sound like a bit of a dull chore though, right? All this effort in picking apart something that’s been lovingly made. Like someone listening to a song that’s a totes tearjerker, all heart-on-sleeve and unrequited love, and responding with ‘yeah, that bridge section in the middle reverts back to the Major 7th chords from the opening – how interesting…’
But truthfully, I love the close reading as much as the pleasure reading. There is something deeply satisfying, a sense of discovery and wonder, in understanding the ‘how’.
Which is why I’m going to be running a regular(ish) series of articles in the future called Microdosing Fiction. The premise is simple: I select a flash fiction story (or occasionally an excerpt from a short story, or a short passage from a book), and provide some thoughts, insights and guidance - hopefully with some interaction from subscribers – on the craft that has gone into it. I’ve called it microdosing because it uses relatively short pieces of writing to highlight elements of craft and writing style. Big benefits from small amounts.
Whether you like a story or not doesn’t matter when it comes to studying it. Some stories appeal more than others. I love stories with emotional heft and resonance, that are lyrical and deeply felt. The ones that move me and make me pause. But I have also learned from those stories which leave me a little cold, or bemused, but I know have power and impact. This is not an exercise in liking or disliking. We’re not Facebook or Instagram here.
So, here’s the deal. Each Microdosing Fiction post will be available free for a short period of time, before becoming exclusive to Paid Subscribers. And my wonderful paid subscribers will also get access to the framework I use for close analysis (which is behind the paywall below). This framework is similar to what I use as an Editor, Writing Competition Judge and Writing Tutor.
The first story I will be looking at is: Mermaid In The Jar by Sheila Heti.
Enjoy!
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