Do you read other writers’ fiction while you’re working on your own?
This topic has come up a number of times on conference panels I’ve either attended or been on, and the general response seems overwhelmingly to favor: no. (Or: NO!!!)
The usual justification I hear is that having another author’s voice in your head gets in the way of clearly hearing your own.
My response to that has usually been that I manage to palette-cleanse all intrusive voices by going over whatever I’ve written the day before and revising it before starting anything new.
But I’ve just finished my most recent novel over Christmas vacation in Norway, and had the time as well (given long nights and inclement weather) to read three other books, two novels and one combat memoir. Not only did they help stimulate my brain in terms of language, pacing, concept, and more, they encouraged me to higher levels of execution, more demanding self-scrutiny, for the three books I picked were by writers I admire, whose skill and technique far outpace my own, and whose work arguably puts mine in the shade.
Why would I do that to myself? Would you?
As I’ve said more than once here within the hallowed walls of Writer Unboxed—i.e., at the risk of repeating myself again—I have always loved this quote from Saul Bellow:
“Writers are readers inspired to emulation.”
I don’t want to restrict that inspiration to the time between novels. Especially since I seldom have any real downtime between novels. Case in point: I’ve already begun researching and plotting out the next.
With all the research we need to do—plus other people’s manuscripts for those of us who blurb, review, teach, or edit as well—when is there time to read fiction for “mere” inspiration (let alone pleasure)?
“Writers are readers inspired to emulation.” –Saul Bellow
The three books I chose were books I’ve been meaning to read for ages, and finally put my mental foot down and decided: Time’s up. Now or never.
I’m glad I did, because they all taught me things that came in handy.
From Jess Walters (The Financial Lives of the Poets), I learned to continue returning to a powerful image in new ways, for it creates thematic unity, and the echoes instantly conjure meaning.
For example, the main character/narrator stops by a local public school to see how his two young sons might manage there, given the family’s coming fall from financial grace. What he witnesses is two older kids leading a younger, smaller kid to the fence and beating him mercilessly.
When the narrator tries to intervene, not only do the two older kids trash-talk him, the younger one does as well. The boy would rather get the snot kicked out of him than accept the shame of needing to be rescued—worse, being seen as a snitch for getting the other two boys in trouble.
The narrator keeps returning to this image in new ways over the next 200 pages or so, linking new insights to this original experience, deepening the reader’s understanding of it.
Flaubert’s Parrot, by Julian Barnes, bears a certain resemblance to my book in that its “current-day” storyline echoes one in the past, in this case the great author’s life and career, specifically his most famous novel, Madame Bovary.
Time and again I was struck by the lovingly obsessive research that went into this book, resulting in dozens of odd, fascinating details (about Flaubert’s disbelief in human progress and particular disdain for democracy; his love-hate relationship with travel; his tempestuous long-term affair the sexually liberated poet Louise Colet, etc.)
More than that, however, I just marveled at the deft prose, the great turns of phrase, the wit, the insight.
What makes us want to know the worst [about someone]? Is it that we tire of preferring to know the best? Does curiosity always hurdle self-interest? Or is it, more simply, that wanting to know the worst is love’s favourite perversion?
Finally, since four of my characters are combats vets, I benefitted greatly from revisiting Michael Herr’s Dispatches, quite possibly the greatest, and certainly one of the most surreal and disturbing accounts of men at war you will ever encounter.
I marveled at the deft prose, the great turns of phrase, the wit, the insight.
It was re-immersion into that mindset, particularly the cocksure bravado veiling inescapable terror; the superstitious regard for death and the dead; the sneaky, humiliating betrayals of a fallible body; all wrapped in a unique blend of compassion, objectivity, and black humor (“clean information”), that brought me into a place where I thought I could deal with my vets insightfully.
It was like a walk through a colony of stroke victims, a thousand men on a cold rainy airfield after too much of something I’d never really know, “a way you’ll never be,” dirt and blood and torn fatigues, eyes that poured out a steady charge of wasted horror.
Overall, the benefit of reading while writing is that the part of my brain receptive to fiction shares a borderland with the one challenged to create it. Sure, I could have felt intimidated, but I chose instead to raise my game.
Is my novel equal to these three books I admire? Trick question—that’s not for me to judge. If it were, I would say no—not out of modesty, but honesty. Besides, an author never experiences his own work the same way he experiences someone else’s—specifically, he knows everything that’s been left out, which the reader doesn’t and can’t—and that’s the real bright dividing line between reading and writing.
I am not a believer in the old saw we write for ourselves. I believe we write for others, and sometimes it helps to have a specific reader or readers in mind.
The actor Joseph Chaikin never went onstage without imagining that Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., was in the audience.
With these three authors so clearly present in my mind, I began to write as though they were my intended readers. And I think it helped me write a better book, at least in the home stretch. When I go back for my final review, I’ll need to make sure that influence is consistent.
Do you read fiction while you’re writing it? If not, why not?
If so, how do you choose what to read? How do you counter the risk of imitation? How do you keep from feeling intimidated?
Do you write with a specific reader or readers in mind? How does that work for you?
About David Corbett
David Corbett is the author of six novels: The Devil’s Redhead, Done for a Dime, Blood of Paradise, Do They Know I’m Running?, The Mercy of the Night, and The Long-Lost Love Letters of Doc Holliday. His short fiction and poetry have appeared in a broad array of magazines and anthologies, with pieces twice selected for Best American Mystery Stories, and his non-fiction has appeared in numerous venues, including the New York Times, San Francisco Chronicle, Narrative, Zyzzyva, MovieMaker, The Writer, and Writer’s Digest (where he is a contributing editor). He has taught through the UCLA Extension’s Writers’ Program, Book Passage, LitReactor, 826 Valencia, The Grotto in San Francisco, and at numerous writing conferences across the US, Canada, and Mexico. In January 2013 Penguin published his textbook on the craft of characterization, The Art of Character, and Writer’s Digest will publish his follow-up, The Compass of Character, in October 2019.
One of the greatest gifts I’ve received in my life in the last several years, specifically 2016, is Writer Unboxed.
Eloquent, stimulating, thought provoking.
Funny thing . . . when you’re thinking, usually your mouth’s shut. In that special silence, shifting occurs and light shines.
Thank you.
“The world would be happier if men had the same capacity to be silent that they have to speak.” –Baruch Spinoza
P.S. Thanks for the lovely comment about WU.
Thank you for this affirmation, David.
As a yet-to-be-published fiction author, I do read other books. One: because I’ve been working on my story for 4+ years. I can’t not read for that long!
And secondly, most importantly, I have soooo much to learn about the craft of writing. And I learn about it via books written by Donald Maass and Lisa Cron and you and more. And I learn how to write stories by reading stories, trying to analyze why I’m ready to put one down, why I want to continue reading another.
All of the learning keeps seeping from the gray matter of my brains down into the marrow of my bones. And then I have room to assimilate even more information about plot, characters, grammar, etc.
I do write with a particular reader in mind and I’m blessed to not (at least, not yet) compare myself to the best authors but to be my own still small voice.
Hi, Lisa:
In the end, I believe our best teachers are the writers we admire and, yes, seek to emulate.
And I think having a specific reader in mind keeps us honest. As long as that reader’s name isn’t “Mom.”
Thanks for chiming in.
Hey, David,
I purposefully read while writing, thus fulfilling the prophecy of the writer as reader inspired to emulate.
As a southerner, I like to write stories set in the south, which usually involves the use of dialect and slang to really capture the mood. We all know how risky that is. So I read authors who have successfully navigated those waters and emulate their style, eventually honing in on my own voice (as to not imitate) in the process. Books I’ve turned to: The Color Purple, The Help, Bastard out of Carolina, and anything by Twain, Faulkner, and Wolfe.
I also participate in short story competitions that assign genres with which I’m unfamiliar or haven’t written, so I read other shorts of that genre to get a feel for them.
Of course I feel intimidated reading The Greats. Who wouldn’t? But I counter those feelings with the knowledge that the emulation will bring out and strengthen my own voice — most likely, for the better.
Thanks, David.
hey, Mike:
I think that confidence — to seek to emulate knowing we will fall short of those we admire — is a required strength for truly good work, if not great work.
Southerners have such a distinct ear for language and story. There’s a great oral tradition in the South that doesn’t exist to the same degree anywhere else in the country. You’ve chosen some excellent teachers — and there are so many more: Harry Crews, Flannery O’Connor, Larry Brown, Barry Hannah. You’re wise to narrow it down to those who speak to you specifically.
Best of luck.
David, what possessed you to go to Norway in the winter? It must’ve been cold and dark but serenely beautiful. I visited a friend in Uppsala over Christmas holidays years ago and was astounded at its beauty, both the land and the people.
I’m always working on something so I’m always reading. I tend to read more nonfiction while working on fiction and vice versa. I usually have 2-5 books going at any one time. And yes, sometimes I read books that are so breathtakingly beautiful, I have to stop and bask in it, give thanks to God for this gift. and then I have to go back to page 1 and figure out how the author made this masterpiece. Doubts about my own ability do creep in but they’re momentary. I’m not easily discouraged because I know my voice is unique. In the pile of books, there’s always one how-to book to stretch my skills. Books are terrific mentors and I could never be without them.
You mention audience. My primary audience is always myself but I do keep a couple of ideal readers in my mind and I’m delighted to know I’m not the only one who has dead people on that list at times :)
Hi, Vijaya:
The great advantage of dead readers is that their criticism tends to be a bit more muted.
Yeah, with that many projects going at any time, you can’t afford NOT to read.
I think it’s admirable that you don’t allow yourself to be intimidated. See my remark above to Mike. Humility before the Muse is no weakness.
I also commend your acknowledgment of your unique voice. More than any other aspect of writing, this is both the one that always makes a writer stand out and is the hardest to teach.
Thanks, as always, for commenting. Always look forward to your comments.
“The great advantage of dead readers is that their criticism tends to be a bit more muted.”
Haha!
Thank you for your kind words.
David, I love this conversation. I read constantly and go with my gut about what books to immerse myself in. Most of the time this works pretty well. If I’m intimidated by the author’s brilliance, I know I’ve chosen well. Over time I’ve gotten pretty good at reading for pleasure and study at the same time. I pretty much stick to fiction, but someone gave me Testimony by Robbie Robertson and I’m finding all kinds of gems about the writing process threaded throughout. I’m also benefitting from his observations on social change during the late 60’s into the 70’s, since my story takes place in 1978. And I do write for a certain few people, keeping in mind what they expect from the story I’m working on and trying to live up to their high standards. Thank you for a wonderful post today! .
Hi, Susan:
Sounds like you have an eminently healthy attitude. Interesting info re: Robbie Robertson, I’ll have to check that out.
I find reading other authors even if I’m in the midst of my own work, is relaxing and takes away the stress of writing. I don’t feel that such reading is harmful or negative to my own writing at all.
This seems to be the consensus here, Jim, which is interesting because up to now I’ve heard very much the opposite. Not sure what to make of that, except maybe we should have a second website: Reader Unboxed.
I am always reading something, and I don’t consciously change my reading habits to fit around my writing. I never stop reading, and I never stop writing/revising/editing. That said, I tend to read nonfiction (history, biography, etc.) more than fiction, largely because I’m interested in particular subjects and want to learn more (this often then gets used as background research for books I want to write). While there is a voice in a good biography, it doesn’t compete with the fictional voices of my characters.
When I do read fiction, it is usually literary fiction, though I am ostensibly writing women’s fiction (I suppose only because the protagonists are women and domestic things and family relationships hold a prominent place in the narrative). I almost never read commercial women’s fiction. My writing tends to be more upmarket anyway, though I definitely read on a higher literary plane than I write.
It is possible, I suppose, for a writer to be unduly influenced by her reading if she is reading exactly the type of thing she is writing — if you’re not careful, you might find yourself writing the same stories in a sense. It’s difficult enough to come up with something unique.
But if you read things you could never write yourself (which is one reason I gravitate toward stories set in other cultures and written by non-white authors) you run less of a risk of that. I could never have written A Tale for the Time Being by Ruth Ozeki or Reading Lolita in Tehran by Azar Nafisi, but I reveled in their insights, the way they expressed themselves, their language, their themes. And I certainly think reading them can only influence my writing for the better.
Hi, Erin:
How unfortunate to think there’s a distinction between women’s fiction and literary fiction. (I may be expressing utter ignorance here, but it seems to me the real distinction should be “mainstream” (commercial) vs. literary. But what do I know?)
I love the idea of reading outside the culture to gain a more expansive understanding of language and insight. To be honest, I should do more of that. (Note the three writers I mentioned are all white males. Hmmm…)
Thanks!
To be clear, I don’t think there should be that particular distinction necessarily–some literary fiction would be classified as women’s fiction–but the market makes that distinction. For instance, Ruth Ozeki’s book has female protagonists and “female” problems and family drama, but I doubt I’d find it classified as WF.
Poets have far fewer hang-ups about reading each other and being inspired by other poets. ‘Found’ poetry is often a great way to kick-start your own creativity, especially when you find or erase or otherwise play around with other poets’ work. Of course, I can see why this might be harder in a novel – if you steal someone’s plot scene for scene, for instance…
Hi, Marina:
I think it’s more a question of voice than stealing plot scene by scene. (Though some of the best writing advice I ever got was this from Oakley Hall: “Steal wisely.” Wholesale pilfering of plot does not, I imagine, qualify as “wise.”)
The infiltration of another writer’s voice can make a subtle shift in your own word choice, rhythm, etc., if you’re not careful. But what I’m sensing here in the comment thread is an excellent command of “voice hygiene” on the part of our fellow Unboxers.
Thanks for then poetry input. Nice to have here.
I do read while I write. Sometimes I do as you’ve done, David, and read to inform my writing. Other times I simply read books that capture my interest.
I’ve been writing for many years. In my teens, I imitated one my favourite writers–John Steinbeck. However, it has been my experience that the more you write the surer you are of your own author voice–and thus, the less likely you’ll imitate.
Agreed. Thanks, Leanne.
I can’t imagine not reading during a project. Partly for all the lessons and ideas I can find from what’s out there.
And partly because I can’t imagine not reading, period. If someone else’s story were to endanger my own vision… to me that would only mean I hadn’t gotten a proper grasp on it in the first place. Or that I wasn’t keeping track of *why* a story I read worked, including knowing right off what sides of its balance wouldn’t apply to me.
Besides, if I actually had to choose between reading and writing… well, I know which side is generating more and better stories. So the only reason I can think to pause my reading would be as a goad: “Just get these last chapters down and you can get back to normal reading.”
Mr. Carrot — meet Mr. Stick.
I do read while writing – but I generally avoid fiction about the same subject I’m writing about. Not necessarily the place and time period (I write historical fiction), but the people… That’s not so much to avoid imitation, but because I’m afraid to find out that something I’m doing, character-wise, had been done already. :-)
That said, I’ve had some wonderful epiphanies from books I’ve read while writing – Ronald Blythe’s The Assassin, to name one, for both language and pacing…
Hi, Clara:
Great point. I think that “epiphany” potential is one of the reasons most of us read fiction while writing.
I will add this: My current book is about Doc Holliday, and I deliberately did not read either Victoria Wilcox’s or Mary Doria Russell’s novels about him, precisely because I wanted to fashion my own sense of him and create my own interpretation of his voice. (I’m really looking forward to reading the Wilcox trilogy in particular once I’m finished with my final edit.)
And, sure enough, last night I began reading Jessie Burton’s The Miniaturist – and had just one of those moments – for language, and for the use of detail to conjure up atmosphere…
I read that Philip K. Dick when asked why he wrote, replied along the line of: “Because reality doesn’t live up to my standards.”
I suppose it could be argued that all writers are creators and therefore have at least a god-envy if not a full blown god complex.
Whatever one’s reason to write, the manipulation of matters to define one’s own perception is a seductive persuasion. It is also highly addictive.
Are you talking about fiction or a certain public figure’s obsession with Twitter? :-)
:) At times certain extreme tweets by a certain extreme Twit, do bring up certain similarities to a number of PKD villains. And arguably, we are now living in a PKD novel.
That explains the replicants.
David, reading is a great part of my life, as is writing, so I am always reading a novel in addition to newspapers and magazines so that I know what’s happening and how to evaluate and deal with it. I write upmarket fiction and women’s fiction and rarely read commercial fiction. I also will read the essays, short stories etc of fiction writers I admire to learn more about their ideas and methods. Everything feeds my own work, my own ideas and how to create words on the page. I also find that well-written book reviews often reveal a writer’s methodology and I take notes from those. I don’t believe you can write fiction unless you are constantly reading it–especially if you want to know how style and organization might have changed or expanded. Thanks.
Hi, Beth:
You remind me of two remarks by writers I know.
The first, from Cyra McFadden: “A writer is someone on whom nothing is lost.” (She may have been quoting someone else.)
The second, from Jim Frey (“How to Write a Damn Good Novel”) — his Ten Rules of Writing:
1. Write
2. Write
3. Write
4. Read
5. Read
6. Read
7. Suffer
8. Suffer
9. Suffer
10. Don’t use too many exclamation points.
Thanks, David. I’ll print this out and put it on my memo wall. Beth!!
I can’t imagine not reading while writing. Sometimes I feel like I need to inhale more words and get them inside me so that I have enough to put back out. In my MFA program, we were taught that the best way to learn to write is to read other’s writing and that is what I tell my students as well. I’m glad you addressed this topic.
Agreed. On all points.
I read all the time, whether I’m writing or not. When writing, reading inspires me to get to work (of course, I only choose books that I feel are well-written). It serves as a warm-up for me, to get the rhythm of language in my head. Reading also gives me insights on how another author navigates something I’m struggling with, such as backstory. How much, how soon, and how is it woven into the forward action of the story? I don’t think it’s a bad thing if another author’s voice influences mine; it’s possible that the mishmash of voices gets thrown in my brain and comes out as something new: my own voice.
Thanks, Diane. I too find myself “checking out the plumbing” as I read these days. It’s never enough just to turn pages; like you, I’m always examining the technique at play.
I read something pretty much every day whether its articles or a few chapters from a novel to a few chapters from a non-fiction, and read a wide variety of genres although I write science-fiction/fantasy. It’s inspiring, not because here’s someone I can imitate, but because there’s room in the world for all kinds of styles, even mine.
Hi, Sheryl:
I once heard Dennis Lehane say he didn’t read crime fiction because it would be like a carpenter stopping off at the lumber yard every night before coming home. I think we always learn a little more by reading outside our chosen genres.
I read every day and I write every day. I also listen to audio books almost every day. I’m not worried about getting someone else’s voice in my head because once I had consumed a lot of books and a lot of different authors, I found that I’m able to maintain a little bit of distance from the material. I am able to observe how authors handle different things, things which might be perplexing me at the time such as: bridging scenes, construction of sentences, dialogue tags, existential crises, whatever.
Hey, Keenan! I can affirm you have no worries about anyone else’s voice invading your work. Your command of your own is superb.
I don’t read while I’m writing, and if I need to read, I dip into an old favorite such as a Travis McGee or Lord Peter Wimsey story I’ve read many times before.
Seems I’m different from everyone else, again.
It’s physical. I have only so much energy a day for reading OR writing, and I’d rather write. Progress is pitiful enough devoting my whole attention to the complicated novels I’m writing; if I get sidetracked, I lose days’ worth of writing time.
I’m glad I did my reading when I was younger – and well. There are tens of thousands of stories in my head.
This means I read few newer writers, and that’s probably a loss. On the other hand, when I’ve picked up something recent, and allowed myself to get into it, I find myself skimming very quickly, because reading now feels like a waste of resources.
It’s a curious way to live, but I honestly feel I’ve been kicked upstairs. Apparently, I don’t have a choice.
Once the remaining two books in the Pride’s Children trilogy are completed, I’ll reevaluate, as finishing them has become an obsession.
I can’t be the only person who writes like this.
Hi, Alicia:
I think you’re far from being the only person who focuses on writing rather than reading. John Updike once remarked he learned early on he could either be a reader or a writer, not both. It seems you share that with him.
And to be honest, I’m rather surprised at the otherwise unanimous vote on reading while writing. This is a real eye-opener for me. As I said at the top, what I usually hear is the opposite. So you are definitely not alone.
I’d call your focus on finishing your trilogy a marvelous obsession.
Norway? SO jealous – that’s my favorite place on the planet!
I read when I write, but I’m careful. I find I need to avoid authors with really distinctive voices, or I’ll start unconsciously (and unsuccessfully) imitating them, even if that voice clashes with the rest of what I’ve written. So no Wodehouse, John Irving, Jane Austen, Hemingway or Chandler when I’m writing!
But I am in violent agreement that the most valuable teachers we have are the books written by better writers than ourselves. Because while all humans may be created equal, they don’t all write equally well. (Yeah, I’m looking at you, Clive.)
Hey, Keith:
Florida boy loves Norway. Go figure. I love it as well — not just for its beauty but the civility — though right now I’m suffering the Jet Lag Blues (two nights with little sleep — that 9-hour difference is a gen-you-whine ass-kicker).
That’s an interesting take on strong voices. I think that’s the real problem, and it’s interesting how insidious voice can be. It affects the brain far more than plot or even dialogue. And it’s not just language — it’s worldview and command of ideas and insight into human nature all rolled into the flow of words.
It’s for that reason I always ground myself first as the day begins in revising what I wrote the day before, to return to a firm command in my own voice before getting down to my new pages.
Thanks for chiming in, amigo. Happy New Year!
I do read fiction while I write — just not before I write each day, which does tend to knock me off my groove. I actually juggle my reading based on what I’m writing, trying to keep my nose in books where authors are doing what I’m trying to do as well or better than I’m doing it. I’ve found that good authors pull my writing up — and bad authors (or good authors having an off day) pull it down, which is why there’s a growing stack of unfinished stuff under my bedside table…
Excellent points, James. I have on occasion read a bit before beginning, and precisely to get me into a deeper, more meditative groove. But again, to make sure inspiration doesn’t curdle into imitation, I revise what I wrote the day before (see my comment above in response to Keith — sorry to be repeating myself ad nauseous here).
Glad you made it back safely, David, and just in time for the deluge!
I’ve always read, so when I started writing it never occurred to me not to read. On the other hand, my reading tends to cycle through different types of books, depending on what’s going on for me. Often I’m reading a number of things at once, novels, biographies, poetry.
Like you, the key for me is to revisit what I’ve written as a way to reenter my voice, my work. Natalie Goldberg taught me that with writing practice – read through the prior writing, then begin with the last sentence as the first sentence for the next session.
Somehow, reading other people’s work never really affected my voice. I do remember spending a week at the Stratford Festival in Canada, and after three or four days of Shakespeare, twice a day on the weekend, I did find myself thinking in Shakespearean language. Total immersion. It was a great experience – fascinating and fun. Would that some of Shakespeare did rub off on me…
I can’t imagine how having Bard on the Brain could be in any way intimidating. Oh no. No no no…
Thanks for the key perspective, Carol.
Wow. I read a blog post on a very similar topic (why it’s important for writers to read and what they can learn from reading fiction) yesterday at Writers Helping Writers. Interesting how two different writers have had the same idea on their minds lately, and expressed it in their own unique ways. :)
I can’t imagine writing and not reading. Reading was what sparked my desire to write, and because I’ve continued to read all my life, I know I’ve become a better writer as a result. And whether you absolutely love a book or think it’s one of the worst you’ve ever read, there’s always something you can learn from a story. That last part is one of the reasons why I try to read outside my favorite genre when I can. (I read mostly YA and adult fantasy, but I enjoy historical fiction, science fiction / dystopian, contemporaries, and mysteries, too.) You never know what tricks, techniques, or bursts of inspiration you might find from reading outside your preferred genre, and then bring into your own work.
Also, sometimes when I’m stuck on a particular technique like dialogue or fight scenes, I’ll pick up a favorite book / author that I think excels at that technique, then study a few passages to see the sentence structure, word choices, tone, etc. In that way, the books we read can be used as guides of a sort, tools to help us improve our craft.
“the part of my brain receptive to fiction shares a borderland with the one challenged to create it.”
Love this. I actually do read while I’m writing, and find that my writing suffers if I’m NOT reading. I think as it is, we read so much daily (FB posts, twitter updates, blog posts) and we are consuming so much words and language, that it’s all being processed and internalized. I try to “feed” myself the kind of prose I aspire to write…not in a literal sense (as in a voice or story similar to mine or one I want to emulate) but in a creatively ambitious/daring way. Whenever I’ve been in a writing rut, reading is what’s always helped me get out of it.
Hi David … I just read your excellent post, and I am glad I didn’t read it yesterday (while I was tidying up my post for today). People’s comments kept alluding to your post so I went to see why.
Great minds think alike? My semi-great but often mediocre mind thinks like your great mind?
Thank you for your words.
Hi David! Another great post that hit the mark! Funny you asked this question. I did just finish A Little Life and it certainly has stimulated my thinking with regard to the book I am currently writing. I thought you might like it (if that is the correct word for such dark material!) Let me know if you read it. Affliction (remember Simone Weil) is always my focus, and your essays on the subject are bookmarked! I am also reading Masters of the Living Energy in addition to academic journals, and documentaries, as research since my story involves the mystics of the Q’ero tribe in the Andes. I also revisited (after many decades) The Old Man and the Sea because everyone needs Hemingway now and then. And I also reread Legends of the Fall because Jim Harrison makes me weep. Next up is Kafka on the Shore by Murakami. How about you… anymore suggestions about affliction?
I have to read, every day. It’s my escape, my passion, my pleasure, and I always have a book in progress. Last year, I read more than 50 books, not including actual research.
I never worry about being influenced. As you say, going over my work every morning settles me right back into my world.
What I love is being inspired, challenged, excited. Reading makes me think, allows me to wander new worlds, challenge myself to be a better writer.
Thanks for shining a light on this important subject.