As 2021 winds down, we naturally begin to think of New Year's goals. An eminently worthy one for many of us would be improving our writing skills. Whether we primarily write e-mails to friends, family, or colleagues, or whether writing is a more explicit job requirement, we could all do with improved communication skills. A relatively easy—and eminently enjoyable—step toward improved writing skills is reading more.
Provided you’re choosing good books (more on which in a moment), reading exposes you to a variety of styles and voices and helps you learn to separate the great from the good from the mediocre (hopefully not worse—though reading bad writing is instructive, too, mostly in the what-not-to-do vein). There’s much to be learned from how other authors tell their stories—fiction or non-fiction. Do they present a thesis and then logically march through supporting arguments? Do they weave a complex narrative? What grammar choices do they make—e.g., in what tense does the author tell the story? Who is the narrator? And so on—hearken back to all those questions from high school and college literature classes and apply an analytical eye to your reading.
Reading can also remind you of some of your own writing ticks. I’ve focused in my recent reading on authors’ word choice. One of the books in my current stack is John Muir’s Wilderness Essays, which chronicle the naturalist’s explorations, mainly in the Western United States. I’ve been struck by the simple power of Muir’s language. Consider this description of an Alaskan sunrise over the Fairweather Mountains from “Discovery of Glacier Bay”:
Beneath the frosty shadows of the fiord we stood hushed and awe-stricken, gazing at the holy vision; and had we seen the heavens open and God made manifest, our attention could not have been more tremendously strained. When the highest peak began to burn, it did not seem to be steeped in sunshine, however glorious, but rather as if it had been thrust into the body of the sun itself. Then the supernal fire slowly descending, with a sharp line of demarkation (sic) separating it from the cold, shaded region beneath, peak after peak, with their spires and ridges and cascading glaciers, caught the heavenly glow, until all the might host stood transfigured, hushed, and thoughtful, as if awaiting the coming of the Lord.
Muir paints a strikingly clear picture with simple and effective words. By contrast, I’m often tempted to make the simple complex, hoping my writing will be considered more sophisticated or thoughtful—or something. But simple can hit your reader between the eyes. That’s worth remembering—and reading good writing can offer a reminder.
Good writing can also inspire you to strive for better in your own efforts. This especially applies to me when I read the classics, which I tend naturally toward, particularly for fiction. Great writing can stir your soul in ways the mediocre can’t.
Nevertheless, writers can benefit equally from reading the poorly written book—a classification obviously in the eye of the reader, but if you don’t like something you read, it’s worth pausing to examine why. Does the author not tell the story or make the case clearly? Is it word choice? Sentence structure? Grammar problems? (Probably not, if the book has made it to professional publication, but you never know.) Understanding the traits that turn you off may help you avoid making similar mistakes.
As for what kind of books to read, I recommend reading anything that piques your interest. If you prefer non-fiction, no need necessarily to force yourself through fiction, and vice versa—though periodically stepping into a new aisle at the bookstore never hurts, either. There’s also ample good shorter-form writing (though in my humble opinion, this is decreasingly true of all stripes of mainstream journalistic outlets—with a few exceptions).
The height of my to-read stack would rival that of most three year-old children, but here are a few I’m currently enjoying (in addition to the aforementioned Muir), in the event any inspire.
A Christmas Carol and Other Christmas Writings, Charles Dickens—my annual tradition.
Les Parisiennes, Anne Sebba—the subtitle summarizes well: “How the women of Paris lived, loved, and died under Nazi occupation.”
On Writing Well, William Zinsser—Naturally, a book on writing makes the list. I plan eventually to write a post on some of my favorite writing resources, but in the meantime, this is a great place to start if you’re interested in studying the craft of writing.
Also, I discovered this gem this year in one of my favorite bookstores—in Cannon Beach, Ore.—and highly recommend it for a daily dose of inspiration from the Bard.
So build your own stack and curl up with a good book this winter. Your mind will appreciate it—and so will your readers.
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