How Good Reading Makes For Good Writing

So I was thinking that the Beneficent Mr. Hall would really enjoy Harlan Coben’s The Woods–plus, it was free, so I brought it home. (I can be beneficent, too, you know.) And wouldn’t you know it? The man had already read it.

So there lay the book on my table…waiting.

Now, of course I’d heard of Harlan Coben, and read a couple writing articles by Harlan Coben, and knew he was all that and a bag of chips. But I’d quit reading mysteries years ago. I love a good mystery, but after years of reading tons of mysteries, one gets halfway into the first chapter and says, “He’s the guy. (Or girl, as the case may be.)” Which sort of defeats the purpose of a mystery, right?

Still, it was New York Times best-seller Harlan Coben and I thought, okay, fine. I’ll read one more mystery. But it better be good.

Oh, it was good. It was real good. It was why-must-you-torture-me-with-your-excellent-writing good.

So. I’m thoroughly chastened. And not just because I’d pooh-poohed mystery reading. I read The Woods through the eyes of a wannabe published author and learned SO much about writing that works… great pacing, authentic character development, just the right mix of description and narrative, true dialogue. And the way he wove so many stories together so effortlessly and organically  was brilliant. (And how in the world can he do that without outlining???).

It was way more than reading. It was an education. And it was there, all along, just waiting for me.

So, how about you? Got a book like that? ‘Cause I’d sure love to read it. (Perhaps the Beneficent Mr. Hall would, too. But he’ll have to wait till I’ve finished it first. I’m not that beneficent. )

P.S. I came across this list of Six Page Turners You’ll Tear Through from Oprah’s book picks. Since I tore through The Woods, I thought I might try one of these, maybe learn a little more. Holy moly, I hope my brain doesn’t explode this summer!

He Loved His Country As No Other Man Has Loved Her

Maybe it’s because I’m at the beach this 4th of July, and I’ve been sitting on the sand, watching the ships head out to sea. There is something about ships at sea that always brings to mind “The Man Without a Country,” that classic short story by Edward Everett Hale. I think of Phillip Nolan, the young officer sentenced to sail forever, never hearing a word about his family, his home, his country.

Few stories have had such an impact on me. I read it years ago, in elementary school, and though I know the story well, I still get emotional when I get to certain passages…where Nolan is reading aloud from Walter Drake’s Lay of the Last Minstrel, when Nolan joyfully mans the cannon and is given a sword for his courage in battle, a sword which he wears on formal occasions. And of course, the end, when an officer enters Nolan’s stateroom to find a shrine of sorts, and at long last, Plain Buttons hears news of his beloved United States of America, a country he has prayed for night and day, nigh on fifty years.

Maybe it’s the sea that puts Phillip Nolan in mind. Or maybe it’s the American flag that my father hangs outside his home every morning and takes in every evening at dusk. And maybe it’s the 4th of July celebrations, the fireworks I hear even now, at 11:00 this morning.

But mostly, I think it’s because I’m so very thankful for this country I’m blessed to call home.