Why writers should be readers - by Fran Hill
It is a truth universally acknowledged that a writer in possession of an ambition for fame and fortune must be in want of the secret to success.
And how do you get hold of that secret? That is, once you've already tried stalking a literary agent and eventually been released from prison?
In truth, there's no need to stalk. Most agents or publishers will tell us for free. One major secret to success - the thing they look for as they scan the first few pages of our manuscripts - is originality. An original style that belongs only to that author, or a narrator who tells a story the way no one else would tell that story, even if it's a universal one that's been told for centuries such as the love triangle, the quest, or the unsolved crime.
Readers won't say, 'Oh, not the quest again!' Or, 'Oh, unsolved crimes are so last year!' But they do want a perspective on human experience that is new and fresh. That's why Mark Haddon's 'The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time' was so successful with its autistic teenage narrator. Another hit was Emma Donoghue's 'Room': a novel written in the voice of a 5 year old boy, Jack, and set in the room in which he is held captive with his mother.
The first sentence of this post was clearly not original, and you were no doubt thinking, 'That's Jane Austen's voice. Fran's filched it.' Which I had. Thanks, Janey-babes. I owe you one.
And as long as the reader knows, and I know, that I'm deliberately and ironically using that Austen voice, it's allowed. Otherwise, I'm merely copying or plagiarising.
So, what can we learn from our reading, then? How can we use what other writers teach us, and yet still reach for originality of our own? Surely, reading a wide range of literature might only increase the risk that we'll write derivatively, subconsciously influenced?
Perhaps it might, to begin with. There must be famous writers with derivative, rejected early novel manuscripts tucked into bottom drawers. They may never admit to them, and a clause in their will may say 'Burn all unpublished manuscripts or you don't get the mansion after all.' But those manuscripts are still valuable evidence of their development as writers. They weren't a waste of time, but part of the process of discovering their own voice and realising that inauthenticity equals rejection equals more hours stacking shelves at Asda. However long it takes, finding your own style, and being confident in it, is the secret.
I think of my reading, and what I learn from it, much like the process of applying for jobs, looking for new homes or searching for a wedding outfit. Each interview we attend, each home we tour or suit we try on tells us something about who we are and what we really want. For instance, it's disappointing to be rejected after an interview but hindsight often shows us what we learned from it and we're even relieved. 'Now I know I never want to work full-time as a woodlouse trainer,' we may say. 'Phew.'
The experiences give us critical skills: the ability to look back and think, I can take this from that experience, but I'll leave that behind as it's just not me.
I do the same each time I try to read Terry Pratchett. His stories and their settings don't grab me, though I've tried, and I know I'll never write that kind of book. But perhaps you will.
Gail Honeyman wrote the 2017 bestseller 'Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine', a humongous success of a novel. Honeyman acknowledges, without guile, that the character of Jane Eyre was a major influence in the way her own main character developed. She said in a Guardian interview, 'Jane is hard to love when she's a kid. She's a weird kid. There are reasons for that - she's had a difficult start in life. So I was thinking of that with Eleanor - she doesn't make it easy for herself. She's not a people-pleaser, not naturally charming, and that can make life really difficult for people through no fault of her own.'
Read Honeyman's novel, though, and at no point will you think, 'This character is just like Jane Eyre. The author's copying Charlotte Bronte.' The influence is implicit, not explicit, and Honeyman's style is enchanting and original. Suffice it to say, she does not work at Asda.
Honeyman hasn't used Bronte's style or voice. But she's learned from her about characterisation and used that to develop her own work. We too can learn from other writers about tools of the trade: theme development, setting, characterisation, novel structure, use of historical context, the value of sparse dialogue or the effectiveness of a one-line paragraph, to name only a few.
My own reading over the summer has taught me the following. I hope what I've learned will help my own style towards more authenticity and confidence.
First, I've been reminded of the wicked humour Roald Dahl used in his stories while reading 'Charlie and the Chocolate Factory' with my grandson. I learn so much from Dahl about how the bizarre and surprising can lift a story.
Also, by re-reading Sue Townsend's 'The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole', I've learned that to create an authentic diary-voice - something I'm trying in a current WIP - I need to drop my prejudice against elliptical, ungrammatical sentences, honed by years of pedantry, and embrace them as part of the genre.
From Elizabeth Strout's novels, I've realised that an omniscient narrator does not have to be confusing, handled skilfully. I may be limiting myself, sticking religiously to my favoured first-person perspectives.
From Ayobami Adebayo's 'Stay with Me' - a debut novel - I saw the power in using political conflict in a country to create tension and mirror the conflict in characters' lives. I must stop avoiding it just because I don't see myself as a political animal. I could even consider research ....
From Emily Fridlund's 'History of Wolves', I realised that I need to put a brake on my narratives, not feeling I need to dump every single plot strand into the first paragraph in case I lose the reader's attention. Slow burn is good.
From Mark Watson's 'The Knot' I learned that tragedy and comedy can be combined but I need a lighter touch and more subtlety in both if I want to do it effectively.
From Jon McGregor's 'Reservoir 13' I realised that however magical or haunting someone's writing is, and however gripped the reader until the last chapter, if the conclusion of the novel is seen as unsatisfying, a reader can still feel cheated and go off you.
From Celia Imrie's 'Sail Away' I learned that even when a famous actor is a brilliant comic on stage or screen, this does not mean they can also write comic novels. I need to know what my particular gifts are and hone those rather than over-diversifying.
Maybe one day what I've learned from my reading will have contributed to publishing success. I live in hope. The stalking tires one so.
Fran Hill is a writer and English teacher from Warwickshire. You can read more about her work by going to her website here That's also where you can buy her first book 'Being Miss' and hear news about future projects.
And how do you get hold of that secret? That is, once you've already tried stalking a literary agent and eventually been released from prison?
In truth, there's no need to stalk. Most agents or publishers will tell us for free. One major secret to success - the thing they look for as they scan the first few pages of our manuscripts - is originality. An original style that belongs only to that author, or a narrator who tells a story the way no one else would tell that story, even if it's a universal one that's been told for centuries such as the love triangle, the quest, or the unsolved crime.
Readers won't say, 'Oh, not the quest again!' Or, 'Oh, unsolved crimes are so last year!' But they do want a perspective on human experience that is new and fresh. That's why Mark Haddon's 'The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time' was so successful with its autistic teenage narrator. Another hit was Emma Donoghue's 'Room': a novel written in the voice of a 5 year old boy, Jack, and set in the room in which he is held captive with his mother.
The first sentence of this post was clearly not original, and you were no doubt thinking, 'That's Jane Austen's voice. Fran's filched it.' Which I had. Thanks, Janey-babes. I owe you one.
And as long as the reader knows, and I know, that I'm deliberately and ironically using that Austen voice, it's allowed. Otherwise, I'm merely copying or plagiarising.
So, what can we learn from our reading, then? How can we use what other writers teach us, and yet still reach for originality of our own? Surely, reading a wide range of literature might only increase the risk that we'll write derivatively, subconsciously influenced?
Perhaps it might, to begin with. There must be famous writers with derivative, rejected early novel manuscripts tucked into bottom drawers. They may never admit to them, and a clause in their will may say 'Burn all unpublished manuscripts or you don't get the mansion after all.' But those manuscripts are still valuable evidence of their development as writers. They weren't a waste of time, but part of the process of discovering their own voice and realising that inauthenticity equals rejection equals more hours stacking shelves at Asda. However long it takes, finding your own style, and being confident in it, is the secret.
I think of my reading, and what I learn from it, much like the process of applying for jobs, looking for new homes or searching for a wedding outfit. Each interview we attend, each home we tour or suit we try on tells us something about who we are and what we really want. For instance, it's disappointing to be rejected after an interview but hindsight often shows us what we learned from it and we're even relieved. 'Now I know I never want to work full-time as a woodlouse trainer,' we may say. 'Phew.'
The experiences give us critical skills: the ability to look back and think, I can take this from that experience, but I'll leave that behind as it's just not me.
I do the same each time I try to read Terry Pratchett. His stories and their settings don't grab me, though I've tried, and I know I'll never write that kind of book. But perhaps you will.
Read Honeyman's novel, though, and at no point will you think, 'This character is just like Jane Eyre. The author's copying Charlotte Bronte.' The influence is implicit, not explicit, and Honeyman's style is enchanting and original. Suffice it to say, she does not work at Asda.
Honeyman hasn't used Bronte's style or voice. But she's learned from her about characterisation and used that to develop her own work. We too can learn from other writers about tools of the trade: theme development, setting, characterisation, novel structure, use of historical context, the value of sparse dialogue or the effectiveness of a one-line paragraph, to name only a few.
My own reading over the summer has taught me the following. I hope what I've learned will help my own style towards more authenticity and confidence.
First, I've been reminded of the wicked humour Roald Dahl used in his stories while reading 'Charlie and the Chocolate Factory' with my grandson. I learn so much from Dahl about how the bizarre and surprising can lift a story.
Also, by re-reading Sue Townsend's 'The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole', I've learned that to create an authentic diary-voice - something I'm trying in a current WIP - I need to drop my prejudice against elliptical, ungrammatical sentences, honed by years of pedantry, and embrace them as part of the genre.
From Elizabeth Strout's novels, I've realised that an omniscient narrator does not have to be confusing, handled skilfully. I may be limiting myself, sticking religiously to my favoured first-person perspectives.
From Ayobami Adebayo's 'Stay with Me' - a debut novel - I saw the power in using political conflict in a country to create tension and mirror the conflict in characters' lives. I must stop avoiding it just because I don't see myself as a political animal. I could even consider research ....
From Emily Fridlund's 'History of Wolves', I realised that I need to put a brake on my narratives, not feeling I need to dump every single plot strand into the first paragraph in case I lose the reader's attention. Slow burn is good.
From Mark Watson's 'The Knot' I learned that tragedy and comedy can be combined but I need a lighter touch and more subtlety in both if I want to do it effectively.
From Jon McGregor's 'Reservoir 13' I realised that however magical or haunting someone's writing is, and however gripped the reader until the last chapter, if the conclusion of the novel is seen as unsatisfying, a reader can still feel cheated and go off you.
From Celia Imrie's 'Sail Away' I learned that even when a famous actor is a brilliant comic on stage or screen, this does not mean they can also write comic novels. I need to know what my particular gifts are and hone those rather than over-diversifying.
Maybe one day what I've learned from my reading will have contributed to publishing success. I live in hope. The stalking tires one so.
Fran Hill is a writer and English teacher from Warwickshire. You can read more about her work by going to her website here That's also where you can buy her first book 'Being Miss' and hear news about future projects.
Beautifully written, Fran. And gives me much to think about especially in regard to my poetry MA, where one is always expected to cite 'influences' in one's essays.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Veronica. And how difficult, to pin down influences on your poetry!
DeleteI love this post, Fran. You are always so naturally humourous. I'm not sure I've found my style entirely yet but agree with you about Gail Honeywell's book, 'Eleanor Oliphant is completely fine', it has to be my book of the year. She is going to be at our forthcoming Literature Festival, sadly, not a time when I am able to go. Sob.
ReplyDeleteThanks so much! I'm glad to hear that Gail is out and about, because when her book first appeared, she was invisible on social media/the internet at first - obviously not that happy with all the hype. And who can blame her?! I bet she'll be interesting to listen to. Sorry you can't go.
DeleteNice one, Fran
ReplyDeleteThank you :)
DeleteUtterly brilliant (and original!). I love your posts! ❤️
ReplyDeleteI love your comments!!!
DeleteLove this so much. You have comforted me re the potential agonies I have about things like 'making the wrong decision' both in writing and in life. Also, am very impressed with the number of books you've read this summer. Like you, I've been 'studying' the books I've read too. I did a plot line after reading The Lido and made notes on when the different characters were introduced. It's a really worthwhile activity Maybe. Watch this space! Great post Mrs H. X
ReplyDeleteI have astounded myself with the number of books I've read (twice as many as I mention here, in fact). Never been known before! It includes The Lido, on your recommendation, and I agree that it's a great role model of a book where structure is concerned.
DeleteBrilliant post Fran! May your stalking result in success very soon! Am currently stalking one myself (plus a few publishers).
ReplyDeleteThank you, Sheila! Carry on stalking!
DeleteGreat post as always Fran. I live in hope that when my kids have all grown up (and possibly moved out, though I'm not counting on it) I'll be able to read as much as you too! X
ReplyDeleteIt's unknown territory for me, Lucy, and only down to having changed from 'proper' school teaching to the job I'm doing now: teaching in alternative provision, without the marking/planning/reading load that used to take up my summers!
Delete