How To Read Like A Writer

If you’re a writer who doesn’t read, please do the world a favor and step away from your laptop until you’re willing to put in the work. While you’re at it, ask yourself why you want to be a writer in the first place, if you yourself have no interest in picking up a book. I guarantee that if you’re not reading, then the writing isn’t good, and the world certainly doesn’t need any more bad writing. If you are reading, but not reading like a writer, you’re missing out on the scribe’s secret weapon in the fight against bad writing.

The best writers are readers first.

The trick is, once you’ve stepped into the role of Writer, your relationship to the books you read must change. When you were only a reader, you could gobble down whatever was in your hands, gorging on story, lost in the worlds and words other writers were creating. Sure, you may have underlined your favorite bits or dog-eared a chapter or two, but that was only because you loved them, not for any scientific or academic purpose. When you got to a part of the book you didn’t like, you either gave up on the book entirely or pushed through, waiting for the dopamine hit of the next love scene, the next sparkling insight, the slam bang climax. When you were finished, you set that book aside and picked up the next one. That was then, Writer: this is now.

If you want to improve your writing, then you can’t treat your reading like a Netflix binge.

In order to grow in your craft — and to continue that growth well into your publishing days — you must read like a writer who’s been asked to beta read this book in manuscript form. My students are loathe to do this: they’re afraid of “ruining” reading. They don’t want the novels they pick up to be assignments. They don’t want to lose the magic. While I understand that fear, it’s unfounded. Sure, writers you were eager to read before you looked at their work more critically might lose their shine. Then again, once you start paying attention to the mechanics of story and craft, your pleasure in the books that are well-executed more than makes up for the disappointments.

The dividends you’ll receive from becoming your own writing teacher — for that’s what you are when you’re reading like a writer — are enormous. While I still advocate for writers to get in some kind of classroom or work one-on-one with a mentor, as well as have a writer’s group, that will only take you so far: Reading like a writer allows you to become self-sufficient, figuring out for yourself how to improve in the areas you struggle in by breaking down how the masters do it — and honing the ability to articulate why bad writing is bad so you can avoid those mistakes yourself. Think about it: you probably learned story structure and the cadence of your chosen genres by reading. Why not take that practice to its logical conclusion?

How To Read Like A Writer

Read Widely

Dive into all genres, not just the one you write in. Read good books, bad books (sometimes you learn even more from these), new books, old books. Read poetry and graphic novels and picture books. Be omnivorous. This exposes you to new forms and styles.

Read Mindfully

You’re reading on many levels when you read like a writer, and this can take some getting used to.

In a way, all books are like a palimpsest.

There are layers upon layers beneath the words on the page: the writer’s craft and story know-how, the way they’re interacting with all literature that came before it, what was happening in society when the book was published, the writer’s socioeconomic background. I often say that all fantasy, for example, is in conversation with Tolkien and Homer. Just as all dystopian work is adding to a discussion Orwell, Huxley, and, later, Atwood are continually having.

Regardless of what genre you’re reading, you’ll be, first and foremost, looking at craft and story: language (word choice, voice, use of metaphor), story, plot, character, structure, pacing, dialogue, POV etc. This can be overwhelming at first, so my recommendation is to customize what you’re looking for, based on what you yourself struggle with as a writer.

Read for the things you need to learn more about.

Are you terrible at action scenes? Then pay special attention to the execution of action in the books you’re reading (and choose books that will feature them a lot). Do you struggle with telling and not showing? Focus entirely on the ways the author you’re reading successfully — or unsuccessfully — accomplishes this.

Your Reading Checklist

This is by no means a comprehensive list, but it’s a start. You want to pay attention to what’s working and what isn’t working. It’s useful to take notes as you read or you can just flag or underline the following as you go (and anything else you’re specifically reading for). Save analyzing the work until after you’ve finished it.

Note:

• When you really like something
• When you have a niggling feeling — something feels off, but you might not know why yet
• When you’re taken out of story (John Gardner calls this “breaking the fictive dream”)
• Confusion
• Boredom
• Increased blood pressure or other physical signs of excitement or emotion
• Questions
• Prose that stops you in your tracks in a good or bad way
• Clunky writing
• Pacing
• Places where you have to re-read for clarity
• Dialogue that feels stiff
• Moments when you can’t suspend your disbelief
• Cliches
• Missed Moments — places where the writer didn’t go deep enough in a scene and so leaves the reader unsatisfied
• Craft elements that work or don’t work

The Annotated Bibliography : Giving Yourself An MFA

The final step in reading like a writer is culling all your observations after the last line and piecing them together in an intentional way. It’s not enough to just think about your observations in passing as you read — you’re far less likely to have solid and actionable takeaways for your own work if you don’t get intentional about this last step.

When I was getting my MFA, students were required to write an annotated bibliography for every book we read. A page or so of literary analysis. Hands down, this was the most valuable takeaway from my program because it set me up to be my own teacher for life. The bibliography ensured I could articulate what was and wasn’t working in the books I read and, by extension, my own work. We couldn’t just say something was good or terrible or interesting. We had to show WHY. In doing so, the takeaways stuck and my own work improved.

In analyzing all elements of craft and story in a book, we were able to begin noticing how writers did what they did and then try to do those same things (or avoid them) ourselves. It helped us recognize the difference between what was simply subjective (you might know something is well done, but it’s just not for you) and what is a craft failure. Take note of your own personal reader guilty pleasures — if you adore love triangles, own it: but be able to demonstrate why one you read was well executed…or not. Go through the above checklist and figure out what that niggling feeling was about — aha! It was a pacing issue that took you out of the story! Look at how all the elements work together to form the whole.

When you read like a writer, you unlock the mysteries of good story for yourself — and your future readers.

Heather Demetrios is an author, writing coach, and teacher for scribes. She lives in Durham, NC with her writer husband and very imaginative Devon Rex cat. Her novels include Little Universes, I’ll Meet You There, Bad Romance, as well as the Dark Caravan fantasy series. Her non-fiction includes Codename Badass: A Feminist Pop Biography. She is the editor of Dear Heartbreak: YA Authors and Teens on the Dark Side of Love. She has an MFA in Writing from Vermont College of Fine Arts. Find out more about Heather and her books at heatherdemetrios.com and visit her on Twitter: @HDemetrios and @page_count. Her newsletter, The Lotus & Pen, provides resources for the writing life.