5 Books That Changed Me as a Writer
Get to know me and my writing a little better
Being a bookworm AND a writer just hits different. It really does. It’s something that makes so much sense to me but I also find it extremely hard to explain to anyone who isn’t both. It’s not just about being inspired. When you’re a writer reading a book that resonates with you, you feel as if you can share in the pride and devotion the author gave to that story. Perhaps this is something any reader feels, but I believe writers reading this will know exactly what I mean.
That’s why I thought it was finally time to share some books that have shaped me as a writer. Each of the books below has taught me something about writing or myself that has and will continue to stay with me.
The Hobbit
Asking a bookworm “What’s your favourite book?” is so cruel because it’s close to impossible to choose just one. Are you asking me what my favourite comfort book is? Or, the book that’s made me cry the most? Or, which book has my favourite characters? Readers and writers will most likely agree with me that there is no simple answer to this question. However, when prompted for an answer, I always find myself choosing J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Hobbit.
For the longest time, I claimed it was because The Hobbit is the first “real” book I can remember reading. A few years ago, I realised that this had nothing to do with why. The Hobbit has taught many of us the rules of successful worldbuilding and invited us to push our imaginations to the limit. But, for me, The Hobbit was a lesson in the magic you can create when you truly lose yourself in your own stories. Whether it’s Middle Earth or a coffee shop, if you believe in that world and everything that goes with it, your readers will too.
Circe
Imposter syndrome goes hand in hand with being any kind of creative individual. I wish I could say otherwise, but it’s a constant battle we have to fight for the sake of our art. I think one of the biggest parts of this is the fear that nothing we ever create is original. Before I explain how Madeline Miller’s Circe has helped me with this as a writer, there is something I want to remind everyone reading this; there is a unique beauty in being inspired by others and allowing parts of that inspiration to decorate your art.
While the worry of being unoriginal is still one that plagues me more often than I would like, Circe helps me deal with this. Madeline Miller took a story many of us know very well and showed us that we actually knew nothing at all. The bare bones of Circe’s story were there in ancient Greek mythology, but Miller collected these bones and arranged them in a heartbreaking story that captivated me. Circe taught me that the story might have been told before but it’s never been told by me before.
Boy Parts
Eliza Clark’s Boy Parts might have taught me a few things I didn’t want to know…but, more than anything, it taught me that writing takes bravery. Yes, it takes a hell of a lot of guts to share your writing with others but it takes even more to put a story out there that is going to challenge people’s view of you. However, this boundary-pushing bravery has provided insights into lives, minds and worlds we otherwise never would have stepped foot in.
Right now, there is a writer with a story to tell about their experience or understanding of something that has the potential to change a reader’s life. Yet that writer is too afraid to share this with anyone because they are afraid it will incorrectly shape others’ perception of them. Boy Parts taught me that writers are not our characters, our characters are a way for us to express a myriad of different lives and experiences.
I Who Have Never Known Men
The lesson I learned from I Who Have Never Known Men might be the only one that no one else agrees with. What I mean is, Jacqueline Harpman’s French novel taught me that writers do not have to offer an answer for everything. Ambiguity in writing might be frustrating for some, but for me, it offers an element of realism that is captivating. To answer every question raised in I Who Have Never Known Men would have destroyed its haunting beauty.
While I’m not saying that everything should be left up to the reader’s interpretation, there is such a thing as giving too much away. After reading I Who Have Never Known Men, I now ask myself the question, “What will the reader gain from learning this?” or “How is this going to affect their relationship with the story to know this fact?” There is just as much you can create by withholding information as you can by laying it out for your audience.
If Cats Disappeared From The World
A couple of years ago, I started to add a lot of Japanese literature to my bookshelf and I have never looked back. The first lesson Genki Kawamura’s If Cats Disappeared From The World taught me was an obvious one; don’t confine yourself to stories only from your own country/culture. Books are doorways into many worlds we otherwise may never experience. However, this isn’t the main lesson I took away from If Cats Disappeared From The World.
Kawamura’s novella made me realise that simplicity can be just as captivating as any intricate fantasy world that has a multitude of made-up languages and a plethora of unique characters. In some ways, I suppose this lesson is similar to the one I took from I Who Have Never Known Men. But, while I Who Have Never Known Men taught me that writers don’t have to explain everything, the lesson from If Cats Disappeared From The World was more about being able to say so much with so little. Stating things simply as they are can have an even greater impact than lengthy prose that actually takes us further out of a scene.
Originally published on WordPress on March 10th 2024
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