The Simplest Way to Improve as a Writer

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Abstract

bination of cringing, hopefulness, dread, curiosity, regret, and tender optimism. Sure, when I wrote this I thought it was good — but now? Does it sound mannered, twee? Are the jokes still funny? (Were they ever funny?) Why do I use so many semi-colons?? Isn’t this paragraph oppressively long? Yikes, this sentence is a curlicue of misdirection. Hmmm, that’s a rather nice metaphor. Ok, stop congratulating yourself. There’s too much packed into too small a space — why didn’t I air this out, explain things more fully? What was the rush? Why do I use the word “ambient” so much?I don’t mean to imply that I’m a self-flagellating punisher who can’t enjoy the fruits of my labor. But writing is a megaphone — small at the origin (the writer), and wide at the delivery point (the reader), and it’s very hard for a writer to experience his/her pieces the way a reader might. Over time, though, you forget the piece and can read it freshly, as a reader. Some of the pieces I’m looking at I wrote twenty years ago, and quite honestly, I barely remember them. So reading them really does feel like I’m discovering them for the first time. This is a rare opportunity, almost as hard to achieve as ticklin

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g yourself.This is not to suggest you shouldn’t read your own work; quite the contrary. You should read your work ALL the time, especially while you’re working on it. The best thing you can do, to improve your writing, is to read it aloud while you’re working on it. It feels weird and awkward, but it’s the single best way to tell if something sounds natural and makes sense, and, even more importantly, sounds like you. And you should read it over and over while you’re composing, even when you’re sick to death of it. Once it’s published, it’s too late to make changes, so the reasons for reading are different — but they still matter. It’s invaluable to learn from your own habits (good AND bad) and to see, after the fact, what feels like it worked and what doesn’t.I know some writers who read their own stories all the time. I envy their lack of self-consciousness and wish I were a little less critical of myself and could read my stories with a bit less chastisement. Nobody’s perfect — and no story is perfect. I have to remember that, and take more satisfaction in stories that I know hit their targets, even if I see how I could have improved them.</article></body>

Reading your own work might be cringey, but it works

I’m putting together a collection of my stories (to be published this coming fall) so I’m going through a lot of old pieces, with varying degrees of pride and discomfort. I hate reading my old pieces. I approach it the way a lot of people approach listening to themselves on tape, or looking at pictures of themselves: A combination of cringing, hopefulness, dread, curiosity, regret, and tender optimism. Sure, when I wrote this I thought it was good — but now? Does it sound mannered, twee? Are the jokes still funny? (Were they ever funny?) Why do I use so many semi-colons?? Isn’t this paragraph oppressively long? Yikes, this sentence is a curlicue of misdirection. Hmmm, that’s a rather nice metaphor. Ok, stop congratulating yourself. There’s too much packed into too small a space — why didn’t I air this out, explain things more fully? What was the rush? Why do I use the word “ambient” so much?

I don’t mean to imply that I’m a self-flagellating punisher who can’t enjoy the fruits of my labor. But writing is a megaphone — small at the origin (the writer), and wide at the delivery point (the reader), and it’s very hard for a writer to experience his/her pieces the way a reader might. Over time, though, you forget the piece and can read it freshly, as a reader. Some of the pieces I’m looking at I wrote twenty years ago, and quite honestly, I barely remember them. So reading them really does feel like I’m discovering them for the first time. This is a rare opportunity, almost as hard to achieve as tickling yourself.

This is not to suggest you shouldn’t read your own work; quite the contrary. You should read your work ALL the time, especially while you’re working on it. The best thing you can do, to improve your writing, is to read it aloud while you’re working on it. It feels weird and awkward, but it’s the single best way to tell if something sounds natural and makes sense, and, even more importantly, sounds like you. And you should read it over and over while you’re composing, even when you’re sick to death of it. Once it’s published, it’s too late to make changes, so the reasons for reading are different — but they still matter. It’s invaluable to learn from your own habits (good AND bad) and to see, after the fact, what feels like it worked and what doesn’t.

I know some writers who read their own stories all the time. I envy their lack of self-consciousness and wish I were a little less critical of myself and could read my stories with a bit less chastisement. Nobody’s perfect — and no story is perfect. I have to remember that, and take more satisfaction in stories that I know hit their targets, even if I see how I could have improved them.