Reading Like a Writer

Today's author, Reyna Johnson, is a college sophomore who dreams up stories and delights in putting them on paper. She currently resides in Southern California. 

I'm sure you've heard that if you want to write well, you've got to read. Don't think I'm about to challenge that oft-repeated maxim, because I'm not. It's perfectly true.

It's just not complete.

In order to write well, you must do more than just read. You have to read well. You have to understand why what you read affects you the way it does. You have to understand why you care deeply about the fate of one character, but could not care less about another character. You have to understand why you read one book over and over, but cannot stand another. In short, you have to understand what separates good writing from bad.

So how do you go about this? The key is asking yourself questions about the different elements—such as plot, character, and style—that work together to make a story. The first step is identifying the plot of the story, something you likely already do. Ideally, you should be able to mentally chart the events in the story, and each should lead logically to the next. If you can't, what changes could you make to the plot so that its progression is logical?

Plot is great and all, but nobody cares about events without characters. A good character is more than just a name and a collection of facts. Think of your favorite character. Chances are, this character reads like a real person whom you know, the way you know your friends. You know what he would say or do in a given situation and what his values are. Next time you read the book featuring this character—or any other character that leaps off the page—pay attention to how the author crafts the character. How does the character behave? Think? Dress? Walk? How do these characteristics differ from those of other characters in the book?

Oftentimes, characterization is expressed through dialogue. Good dialogue both advances the story and stays true to life-like expression. Pay attention to conversations around you. Compare them to those in the books you read. As you do, you'll get a feel for what elements are intrinsic to natural conversation, and thus will gain a better understanding of what constitutes a realistic conversation. When you read a snippet of dialogue that strikes you as unrealistic, go one step further and try to figure out why. In what way does it stray from authenticity?

The way a story is told is very nearly as important as what is told. A good author tailors his phraseology, and pacing to create the most impact for his audience. Compare Tolkien's differing styles in The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings. The former is a children's book, and Tolkien adopted a more informal, conversational tone, almost as though he is telling a child a bedtime story. The latter is more serious, and Tolkien's style changes, becoming grander and more formal. When you read, notice the word choice. Why does the author choose to phrase something one way, rather than another? How would the emotions evoked in a scene change if the author had written in a different style?

Lastly, pay attention to the theme, or the conclusion a story draws about life. Themes can be tricky because a single story often has multiple themes, not all of them intentional. Christian writers in particular tend to have difficulty in this area. Because we often come to the table with the intent of delivering a message wrapped in a story, it is so easy to let the theme overrule the story. A story that falls into this trap becomes preachy. And nobody likes to read a sermon when they're expecting to read a romance or thriller or comedy, just as few people want a rollicking adventure story when they sit down to study a sermon.

But like all else, there is a balance. The theme is what gives a story its weight and purpose, so to chuck it entirely is also a grave error. When you read, try to identify the theme. Is it presented in a way that's both unobtrusive and powerful, or does it lumber around the plot like a three-legged buffalo in a flowerbed?

Reading well—like writing well—takes practice. Chances are you won't be able to pick all these elements out and process them the next time you read a book. But after awhile, you'll notice you analyze stories more, and therefore have a better understanding of how to best craft your own stories. You will have moved from simply reading a book to using each story to improve your own writing.

Stories to Tell

Today's guest post is written by Alison O'Leary, a junior Literature major at Patrick Henry College. I thought this post was a fitting inspiration to kick off our series of guest posts this year, on topics from story theory to excellent literature to writing's nuts and bolts. I hope this post inspires you to find and write the story only you can tell.

“Whenever you are fed up with life, start writing: ink is the great cure for all human ills, as I have found out long ago."– C. S. Lewis

My Dad called them “marshmallow books.” My Mom was always trying to get me to read biographies instead. So how did their daughter end up studying literature and desiring to write fiction for a living? I’m not sure…but I think God enjoys paradoxes.

I once heard someone tell me you know you’ve found your vocation when you would do it even if no one paid you. That’s how writing is for me. The stories in my brain are just itching to get onto paper. If I didn’t write them down, I’d probably go crazy.

This got me thinking…why do we like to write stories? What makes us want to sit down and start scratching out characters that are a bit, just a bit, like someone we know and plot lines that suddenly form holes without warning us in advance? I think it’s because we all have stories to tell, but we like to tell them in different ways.

My parents' lives have been full of one amazing adventure after another, yet neither of them write fiction. They would rather tell their stories face to face and read stories of people who really lived.
I also love telling stories. But I like to use characters to convey things I’ve experienced without having to be utterly personal about them. (I also like to write about things I’ve never done. Please do let me know if you happen to see a dragon one day; I should very much like to meet one.)

Maybe that’s why authors started writing fiction. They had problems, they saw problems, they were problems, and they wanted to fix problems. And maybe, just like me, they didn’t prefer to say, “And (insert name here) went and bludgeoned poor Lizaveta to death.” Okay, so Dostoevsky didn’t kill anyone, but he recognized the twisted sin nature in himself and others, the desire to have power over people. The best way he could capture what he was thinking was to write about a murderer-- a story which became Crime and Punishment.

In a similar way, I had a difficult time talking about some familial issues that rocked my world two years ago. I couldn’t write the pain I felt, but I could write about two brothers who had difficulty reconciling after one went away to war. So I did. Sure, I’ve never been deployed or had anyone close to me go away to fight, but I could imagine the hurt and pain they felt was similar to mine. And it helped my own heart recover.

 "I’ve been there,” characters tell us. Suddenly, we know we’re not alone because someone out there gets it. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be so drawn to fictional characters. They speak to us because, in their own made-up world, they wrestle with the same real issues of love, despair, anger, and joy. If we convey those universal emotions in a compelling story, we can hope someone will read our words and find hope. I make a point of reading one of my favorite books, The Outsiders, at least once every year and I think the author, S.E. Hinton, captures what I’m trying to say.

I could picture hundreds and hundreds of boys living on the wrong sides of cities, boys with black eyes who jumped at their own shadows. Hundreds of boys who maybe watched sunsets and looked at stars and ached for something better. I could see boys going down under street lights because they’re mean and tough and hated the world, and it was too late to tell them that there was still good in it, and they wouldn’t believe you if you did. It was too vast a problem to be just a personal thing.

It isn’t just a personal thing. People are aching all around the world. As writers, we have the opportunity to reach them and say, “I understand.” As Christians, we have a message of genuine hope.

But first we have to understand the problems. Sometimes there aren’t easy answers. Sometimes you get hurt and there’s no pat way to fix it. We can’t just slap a story around the Christian Gospel. Everyone can see what you’re trying to do and that’s poor craftsmanship.

Instead, find a story close to your heart. Something you want to say. Maybe everything doesn’t get neatly tied up in the end, but that’s all right. Our own story hasn’t been neatly tied up yet. Offer hope. Let people know you understand, but there’s more to this world than pain. For, as Tolkien would say, “Oft hope is born when all is forlorn.”

Author Bio: Ali was born not too long along and will probably die sometime... most likely by lightening. In her brief span of life, she hopes to write some stories that may or may not be good, make lots of friends, and "seize the adventure" that God has sent her.