Reading Books You Don’t Like Can Make You a Better Writer

Understanding why something isn’t working is valuable

Recently, I found myself trudging through a book I really didn’t enjoy. Normally, I wouldn’t hesitate to put it down, take it off my Goodreads TBR list, and move on to the next book. Unfortunately, this particular piece was a book club pick, so I felt bound to finish it.

When I got to the end, all I felt was relief that it was finally over and I didn’t have to dread opening up my Kindle anymore. I thought I’d put the book out of my head, but then I started thinking more deeply not just about the contents of the tale, but about why I didn’t like it.

And you know what? I had an epiphany: If I could understand exactly what turned me off about this book and why I didn’t like it, I would be able to spot similar missteps in my own writing.

In short: Reading that book I hated is going to make me a better writer.

Reading widely doesn’t just mean read what you like

As Stephen King says, “If you want to be a writer, you must do two things above all others: read a lot and write a lot.”

This is undoubtedly excellent advice. Until recently, however, I took that advice to mean “Read a lot of what you like.” Reading things you like is, of course, a good idea. You learn how to lay out engaging plots, how to mimic snappy, real-sounding dialogue, and how to craft memorable, three-dimensional characters. All good things, right?

Now to the other part of King’s advice: write a lot. After reading tons of books that you liked and learning from them, this should be easy, right? As all writers know, the answer to that question is an unequivocal no. Strangely enough, I’ve found that reading works I don’t enjoy can make the task of writing just a little bit easier because I’m able to spot where things went off the rails and better yet, why.

You need to understand what doesn’t work just as much as what does work

When you only read widely-renowned books, you only see ways of doing things that have worked. You don’t see the bits of dialogue that sound off, the hanging plot points with no real purpose, or the narrative format that just isn’t working.

In a way, avoiding books you don’t like, or those which aren’t bestsellers, does you a serious disservice. In the scientific world, this would be like only reading about the experiments that worked successfully and produced incredible results. That’s fantastic, sure, but if you want to build on that research or explore another avenue, you have no idea what others have tried that hasn’t worked (in science, this roadblock is called publication bias, and it’s a real problem). So you head to your lab, run a bunch of failed experiments, and have trouble deciphering how and why they failed because you simply don’t know what others have tried and what those results were. You can’t build off of what came before you.

The same is true with writing fiction (or non-fiction, for that matter). You can save yourself time and energy by learning from others’ missteps. When you can articulate why you don’t like something, you can prevent yourself from making the same mistakes in your own writing.

Let me give you an example. I read enough of Anna Karenina to understand I didn’t like it and didn’t want to continue. Why? Many reasons: each character had too many names, the writing style was dry, the action sparse. My key takeaways? I needed to keep character names consistent throughout a narrative, I needed to liven up my prose with more action and vivid description, and I needed to make sure the plot was tight, concise, and engaging.

All of those lessons were pounded into my head just because I read something I truly didn’t enjoy.

Give books you don’t like a chance

All this is not to say that I’ve suddenly started devouring books I hate — that’s certainly not the case. I’m still reading books I love, but at the same time, I’m not discarding books I dislike as quickly. Before I dismiss a book, I ask myself why I’m not enjoying it. Is the plot predictable? Are the characters wooden? Is the dialogue clunky?

Only when I understand what keeps a book from working for me do I allow myself to set it aside. Recognizing those flaws in others’ work means I can look at my own with a more critical eye, identify the problems, and rectify them. I can better understand why my own writing might not be working the way I want it to, which leads to a much less frustrating writing experience.

Overall, every book has something to teach us. Good books will show you what you love, and lesser books will show you what you don’t particularly like. When you specify both what is working well and why, as well as what isn’t working and why, you can accelerate your own growth as a writer and save yourself from hurling too many curse words at your computer when you sit down to write your own pieces.