Want to write better? Read!

Always a Reader

Books form the basis of my earliest memories. The sound of my mother’s voice reading from her well-worn copy of Time for Poetry. Sitting cross-legged on the library floor, listening to Mrs. Maxwell read Curious George. Absorbing the lesson as my older sister worked on her reading homework.

I’ve been a voracious reader all my life, consuming any kind of material I could get my hands on – poetry, early readers, then textbooks, and novels. When I became committed to learning the craft of writing fiction, I noticed a shift in my reading approach.

Reading Transformed by Writing

Whereas I once read anything that caught my eye, I became more discerning. After all, if you are what you eat, it stands to reason that what you read becomes what you write.

Stephen King, in On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft, puts it plainly:

“The more you read, the less likely you are to make a fool of yourself with your pen or word processor.”

King calls writing a lot and reading a lot the twin pillars of successful writing.

A Lesson from my of Reading

One night, reading far too late, I caught myself wondering why I couldn’t stop turning pages. What was the author doing that kept me so engaged? I began pausing mid-chapter to examine not just what I was reading but how it worked.

I find myself doing that more and more now — thinking, as both a reader and writer, about why a story pulls me in or pushes me away.

Seeing a Favorite Book with New Eyes

This practice has changed how I experience even familiar works. My Reading Like a Writer Book Club selected Truman Capote’s In Cold Blood for the June read. Published in 1965, it was credited as the first non-fiction novel. I reread it for perhaps the fourth time, but now with a craftsman’s eye. I wanted to see how Capote wove his spell.

Crafting Character Through Description

As I study fiction more deeply, I’ve come to see In Cold Blood as one of the best examples of how description can reveal character. Capote’s language feels plain at first, but it’s quietly powerful — every detail draws you deeper into his world.

Why does it work? His descriptions don’t just show us the scene; they make us feel its weight. The stark western Kansas landscape becomes a stage for what is to come.

Just as he grounds us in place, Capote also grounds us in people. Through their routines, their quiet virtues, their everyday normalcy, we come to know Herb Clutter and his family — and by the time the four shotgun blasts shatter the quiet of the Kansas prairie, we feel the loss on a human level.

When the author introduces Perry Smith and Dick Hickock, the first line of their section mirrors an earlier one about Herb Clutter:

“Like Mr. Clutter, the young man breakfasting in a café called the Little Jewel never drank coffee.”

By the end of that passage, we understand that the two men — Clutter and Smith — inhabit opposite moral and emotional worlds. Capote doesn’t tell us this; he shows us through the same lens of daily detail. The reader makes the connection instinctively.

With description alone, he manages to bring everyone to life — the victims, the killers, even the investigators chasing them.

My Takeaway

What I took away from the book is simple: who we are shows up in our actions even more than in our words.

Now, as I read, I keep asking myself the same question that first stopped me mid-page that night: Why is this story gripping? What is keeping me here? And when I find the answer, when I can see the craft behind the story — that’s when reading becomes more than pleasure. It becomes an apprenticeship.

Reading like a writer turns every book into an opportunity to improve our craft.

Application  to This Challenge

Even if you’re not writing fiction, reading with a writer’s eye changes the way you experience stories — and blog posts, too.

When you read another participant’s post this week, try noticing how it pulls you in:

– What kind of opening makes you keep reading?
– What specific details help you feel connected to the writer?
– Where do you sense emotion — even if it’s subtle?
– Does the post’s structure create a sense of flow or surprise?

Those same questions we ask of Capote’s In Cold Blood — why does this work? And what makes it stay with me? — can help you read blog posts with greater curiosity and generosity.

When you read this way, visiting another blog stops feeling like a task — it starts feeling like discovery. You begin to see each writer’s choices — even in small things like paragraph breaks or word rhythms — as deliberate tools for connection.

A Simple Challenge for Today

As you read two other blogs, choose one moment that lingers with you — a sentence, an image, or an idea.

Ask yourself: Why does this part work so well?
Leave a comment that mentions it specifically.

You’ll not only make someone’s day — you’ll sharpen your own ability to see what makes writing memorable.