If you are a writer, or want to be, you must have a steady reading habit. Don’t take my word for it: Stephen King says the same thing (less tactfully), and he’s written enough books to to create a massive Guy Fawkes Day celebration. (Book burning is for idiots, but I was contractually obligated by my ego to mention a November even that wasn’t my birthday).
Reading is how you discover that you have an interest in writing. You dive deep into a genre (or deep enough), and you think: “I’d love to create these kinds of stories.” Or you get more specific and think: “I want to wrote this kind of story.” Or you go all cynical and say: “I can do better than this,” close the latest Dan Brown or Clive Cussler and start writing.
“Wait a minute,” I can hear you saying because it suits the needs of this essay, “why are you picking on Dannyboy and Clivechive? They outsell you by a factor in the three-digit range!” Right you are, voice in my head that I blame you the reader for: they sell tons and tons of books. But reading those will only teach you to (a) write in a way that creates constant tension to learn more, the page-turner formula (good), and (b) write plots and characters thinner and less meaty than waterlogged prosciutto (bad…and tasteless). Can you make money this way? The evidence is clear: you can if you are Dannydumbdown and Cliveclichécount.
So who should you read? Everyone, across every genre that has even a slight chance of catching your interest. Stick with the popular authors if you wish: Louis L’Amour created deft plots with solid characters and tremendous historical detail. Agatha Christie may feel very dated, but her plots are fun, her descriptions of her times are mordantly affectionate, and even many of her secondary characters are distinct and memorable (check out the original Harley Quin and Mr Satterthwaite). Lee Child takes the page-turner formula and gives it the talented writer upgrade.
I chose these writers as examples because they sell books by the millions. You can learn from them, but only by reading as a writer. Notice the set-ups, descriptions, foreshadowing, and blending of dialogue with characterization that separates the Dan/Clive level from the upper reaches of writing. Read with part of your brain tuned to phrasing and style. Notice how these might change from chapter to chapter, and especially from character to character. These are not secrets: they are techniques you can learn best by reading the one who master it to popular success.
But also read the writers other writers rave about. I was pointed to Guy Gavriel Kay, A. Attanasio, Aliette de Bodard, and Connie Willis, among many others, by fellow writers who love their work and use it to improve their writing. I have learned more about writing science fiction by reading history books, for they taught me to best develop the story of now/future from the roots of the past.
And read books that you think suck. Stick with them. Figure out what you don’t like, pinpoint the flaws you see in the book, and then compare it to your own writing. You’d be surprised by how much you learn simply because writing you think is bad holds up a mirror to what you want to do and be as a writer. It is one thing to wish to emulate the giants of the field, and feel like that is out of reach; it is another to read someone you consider a scrub and know you can do better. The first is how you grow: the second is how you know why you grow.
So read on. Your ceiling as a writer is built by the number and variety of books you read with your writing brain engaged.
