One of my favorite winter traditions in our book-loving family is the box of books we give each other for the holidays. Sometimes they come from a book-loving sibling. Sometimes from the give-away at our local recycling center or the free library down the street. Or sometimes they are bought new (or used) online.
In December, I posted a question on Facebook and got very lucky. I asked: What's your favorite novel, one you'd recommend? I got dozens of responses, and not just novels. I made a list. Some I'd heard about but an equal number were new titles. I spent a few hours online and found most of them.
Last year, my sister was the gifter and she sent five excellent books. This year, our gift box held fifteen titles. Our shelves are well stocked, so after the holiday, I choose an equal number of books we've already enjoyed to rehome. And begin choosing my first new read.
I got derailed by a surprise from another relative: three super-intriguing nonfiction titles. I allowed myself one. Soon, I'll browse our shelves.
The mix is always eclectic. Classics alongside prize winners alongside indie published but well loved. All genres. With a nice stack of movies on my Netflix queue, this will get me through winter.
What's the purpose of reading, if you're a writer? Most of us know. Books, written by others, can inspire and educate. Some writers are nervous about reading other authors when they're neck-deep in their own writing. In past classes I've taught, there's often a question about this: Will reading cause me to inadvertently plagiarize? Will I steal someone's idea or writing style without knowing it?
The other concern I often hear is about discouragement. If I read something fabulous, then try to work on my own story, it's hard not to notice the gap. There's a wonderful video by Ira Glass about this (here's the link if you haven't seen it). We live in the gap between our taste, our aspirations, and what we are able to produce, as we practice our art. To not fall into the gap is a terrific and ongoing practice. As we get more skills and confidence, we are able to celebrate and appreciate another's work without letting it denigrate their own.
I acknowledge the weight of these concerns and at the same time I have to say this: most serious writers read. Some read a lot. Some have a practice of warming up before they write by reading something from a favorite book not their own. Some switch genres--read a poem when they are prose writers. They do it for the creative nourishment it brings.
Sometimes when I am completely stuck on a chapter or a story, I will grab a book from the holiday stack and open at random. I'll read a few paragraphs aloud to infuse my brain with a completely different rhythm. It works to shake loose my stuckness and I can begin again.
I don't worry about idea or style theft. I know my work, my voice, is uniquely my own--as is the other author's. Here's an example: I'm reading a new novel by Swedish writer Fredrick Bachman--The Winners. Bachman begins most chapters not in any scene or action. He delivers a kind of dispassionate exploration of a theme that the chapter will illustrate. For instance, "mothers." As a reader, I'm fascinated with this. It's so different from traditional novel structure. How does he do it--and get away with it, without losing his reader? I learn a lot from this. I'm also reading The Year of the Puppy by Alexandra Horowitz. She uses short chapters, alternates between science/research about dog behavior and the ongoing story of her adopted dog, and always ends a chapter with something undecided. A cool structure to learn from too.
So, in essence, we read to learn. Like an artist going to a museum to muse over paintings, we read writers we admire to expand our ways of approaching our own writing. This month, consider asking reader friends about book recommendations and welcoming some new titles to your bedside stack or shelves.
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