Books That Inspired Me To Write: The Extras

Over the past month I've been sharing the books that inspired me to read and then to write. From the first book that I ever fell in love with, to the books that captured me in the literary life, to the first moment I actively decided to be a writer, and finally to the books that made me fearless with revision.

That seems to cover every base, right? I thought so. But the more I thought about the books that truly inspired different aspects within me, the longer the list grew.

So, to wrap up this post series, I'd like to share a few of the books/series that helped me be confident with other aspects of the craft.

First, there's The Alchemyst: The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel (and the rest of the series) by Michael Scott

Scott taught me through the Nicholas Flamel series just how to orchestrate a large cast of characters. He taught me how to make characters' voices distinguishable and how to give everyone their own unique personality. Scott also has an amazing ability (one I truly covet) to write in great detail with the most amazing clarity. His action scenes, especially, and his descriptions of cities I've never been to and magic I've never witnessed are so real, I feel as if they weave themselves into tapestries before my eyes - tapestries I can touch and experience. Scott has the knowledge to craft amazing detail that's just enough for readers to be captivated and yet not too much for readers to be confused or bored.

It's a skill I hope to master myself. It was Michael Scott who taught me how perfect of an art form it really is.


The next set of books come from Nicholas Sparks. The Longest Ride and The Last Song.

Now, I know what you're thinking: Sparks is a commercial romance powerhouse. Every year, another book. Someone always dies. Yadda Yadda.

Well, that's what I thought, too, until my mother convinced me to read first The Last Song, and then The Longest Ride. (Truthfully, most of the great things that happened in my life seem to be roundabout connected to my mother's influence. Strange. She must have some master plan I have yet to unveil.)

Anyway, back to Sparks.

By reading these books I discovered this author's greatest strength - one I hope to employ in my own fiction - and it's the ability to balance romance within a book that has other aspects. Once I gave him a chance, I learned that Sparks is, perhaps, the master of Counterbalance.

(Missed that post on Counterbalance? Go here.)

So, if you need help keeping the tension sizzling within your novel, or you're missing that little extra magic that brings a book to its soul, read Sparks.


The next amazing story is not a book, but a short story by Raymond Carver. Cathedral.

Now, I haven't read the full Cathedral collection Carver published in 1983, but I have read a smattering of Carver short stories, which has led me to believe that Raymond Carver is the best short fiction writer that has yet to publish. Yes, there you have it, he's my favorite.

Mostly it's because his details are so direct and yet stand for so many different things. He's a master of voice, and his characters are at once real and not. There's too many reasons I adore Carver's writing to devote to one post, so I'll leave it at this: Of all the short stories I've read, after reading Cathedral, I wish I had written it.


And there's still more books I could write about. Still more that have taught me what to do or what not to do. What to aspire to be, and how to write as I always imagined I could.

That's the most important aspect I'd like you to take away from this post series. Other than getting to know me better, I hope that you see the power in stories. They're the only catalyst besides art and human beings that can truly impact the trajectory of a person's life. If my mother hadn't started me on Harry Potter, would I have been one of those children who hated reading? If I'd hated reading, would I have never been in AP English and read The Stranger? If I never read The Stranger, I wouldn't have actively decided to be a writer.

And I wouldn't be me.

So, when you write, remember it. Remember that your story or novel could be the next book that causes someone to fall in love with reading. It could be the book that person needed to resume working on their novel in progress. It could be the book that inspires a future writer and ends up posted on her blog.



Photo Credits:
Michael Scott: http://www.amazon.com/Alchemyst-Secrets-Immortal-Nicholas-Flamel/dp/0385736002/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1424794477&sr=8-1&keywords=michael+scott+the+alchemyst
Nicholas Sparks: http://www.amazon.com/LONGEST-Sparks-Nicholas-Author-Hardcover/dp/B00I1D927U/ref=sr_1_4?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1424795330&sr=1-4&keywords=the+longest+ride
and: http://www.amazon.com/Nicholas-Central-Publishing-Paperback-Reprint/dp/B00DWYY1ZG/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1424795361&sr=8-2&keywords=the+last+song+book
Raymond Carver: http://www.amazon.com/Cathedral-Raymond-Carver/dp/0679723692/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1424795941&sr=8-1&keywords=cathedral+raymond+carver

Books That Inspired Me To Write: The Amazing, The Terrible, and The Oh Hell No

Throughout the years I've read many books that are amazing and great for countless reasons. Books that I adore. Ones that force me to start devoted Pinterest boards, draw the main characters, or collect their overpriced action figures.

I've also run into a grand number of books that are terrible. These can be just as inspiring as the great books - some even more so. By reading the terrible books - even when I wanted to stop - I learned what NOT to do in my writing. I learned exactly what I didn't want readers to think while they read my stories. I understood how important amazing writing needs to be before a book is published.

For example: passive language needs to be eliminated whenever possible, but when the writer doesn't know this and the editor lets it go, rampant passive language is excruciating to deal with.
Also, description can bring the reader into the story in great depth. The correct type of detail in the correct way can make a story magical and transcend the page. However, overly excessive detail or a lack of description all together both make the reader confused and frustrate that reader to no end.

So, I've found that it's important to read both the good, the bad, and the those books you grip so tightly in your hands, you think you're going to tear the binding because they're so painfully horrible.

This brings me to the next book that inspired me to write. Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf.

I started Mrs. Dalloway with high hopes. I knew that this book was revered amongst the literary community for having some of the best writing and language around. It was known not only as a great book but as a true work of art. These praises got me so excited and ramped up to read that by the time the book arrived in the mail, I had convinced myself I loved it.

Unfortunately, that was not the case.

I found the stream of consciousness narration to be confusing at best. The descriptions were muddled by interjecting thoughts - most of them half unfinished - the punctuation was weird, and the story jumped around between the points of view of Clarissa Dalloway, Peter Walsh, and Septimus Warren Smith. When more than one character was in the same room, it was difficult to decipher who was thinking what.

I ended the novel in a state of slightly angry confusion. How was this book supposed to make any sense at all? If it didn't make sense, why was it called beautiful - a work of art?

I would have dropped the book then, giving it a lower than low score in my mind if not for one roadblock: Mrs. Dalloway was a book assigned by my AP English class. I had a 25% grade weighted essay to write about it. I couldn't give up now or risk something lower than an A in English class.

So I read it again.

And it still didn't make any more sense.

I was nearly in tears over this book because it was so terrible and I needed to understand it so badly.

But then I found another book:

Mrs. Dalloway: Mapping Streams of Consciousness by David Dowling was published in 1991. I found it in 2012, but it had such an impact on me that I can't sing its praises enough. Suddenly, through his even and steady breakdowns and comparisons, I was able to understand the events of Mrs. Dalloway. I was able to literally "map the streams of consciousness" from Woolf's many characters. I understood their motivations and their desires. I understood what made them tick.

I read through Mrs. Dalloway again and saw it for what it truly was: one of the best books I've ever read. A true masterpiece of twentieth century art.

Mrs. Dalloway (accompanied by Dowling's amazing analysis) was the first book I learned to love slowly. It was the first time my opinion on a literary work changed over time. Unlike The Stranger, which I viewed as a favorite from my first read-through, Mrs. Dalloway grew out of an understanding of the author, her art, and her experimentation with form.

Above all, Mrs. Dalloway taught me that literature could be thought-provoking as well as entertaining. It taught me that not all novels are meant to be gobbled down in one bite. It taught me that sometimes I needed to slow my pace and truly savor a great work of art.

Mrs. Dalloway also taught me one of my most important literary lessons: Metaphors.

Prior to reading Woolf, I had mastered the simile and thought that I was pretty great at metaphor too. But after reading, I knew I hadn't even scratched the surface of metaphor's potential.

One of my favorite Mrs. Dalloway metaphors (and one that hit me with so much impact, I'm surprised I missed it the first ten times I read through the novel) comes near the end of the novel.

NOTE****passage below contains plot spoilers****

After Septimus commits suicide, Clarissa Dalloway looks out her window. She has been contemplating death throughout the novel and hearing of Septimus' suicide she thinks, "...the sky. It will be a solemn sky, she had thought, it will be a dusky sky, turning away its cheek in beauty. But there it was - ashen pale, raced over quickly by tapering vast clouds."

In Clarissa's moment of illumination she stops constantly worrying about death. She is able to let go of her fears and live in the present once again.

Then, on the last page, Clarissa's former lover Peter sees her at her party. He thinks, "It is Clarissa, he said. For there she was."

This is the last line of the novel. Until truly understanding Woolf's mastery of metaphor, I thought the piece unfinished. But now, I see it as it truly is, a wonder of craft and emotion. In just four simple words, Woolf conveys to the audience that Clarissa is a changed woman. From her view of the sky to Peter's finally seeing her for the woman she is now, "For there she was" and "But there it was" is so powerful and wonderfully complete, it catapulted Mrs. Dalloway into a spot of love in my heart.

****spoilers over****

After already deciding that I was going to be a writer in every sense of the word and action, it was Mrs. Dalloway that was my first literary breakthrough. I understood the benefits of experimental fiction. I fully grasped the importance of metaphor, and I learned that not everything I saw at first light is going to stay that way.

I guess, in a roundabout way, it was comprehending Mrs. Dalloway that gave me the courage to start major revisions on works that truly needed it. Woolf was the one who showed me my work could and should be better if I only lost my fear of making it worse.



Photo Credits are both from Amazon.com
Mrs. Dalloway: http://www.amazon.com/Mrs-Dalloway-Virginia-Woolf/dp/0156628708/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1424192309&sr=8-1&keywords=mrs+dalloway+virginia+woolf
Mrs. Dalloway: Mapping Streams of Consciousness: http://www.amazon.com/Mrs-Dalloway-Mapping-Streams-Consciousness/dp/080579414X/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1424193628&sr=8-1&keywords=mapping+streams+of+consciousness

Books That Inspired Me To Write: The Exact Moment I Became a Writer

Since childhood is so fundamentally important to a person (and a writer's) later life, I'm going to detail one more book series that inspired me during my fundamental years.

Junie B. Jones by Barbara Park were the first books I loved that not only had a female author, but a female protagonist. Junie B. didn't have magic powers, wasn't orphaned, and went to regular 8-3 school. In short, she was a lot like me. Plus, she was hilarious.

Junie B. Jones taught me that my life could be funny and fascinating and captivating too, even without magic wands or monsters. She taught me that I was strong enough to create a story (and a series of them!) using only the tools I had within my grasp. It was the first time I liked to "write what I knew".

She also taught me that my point of view mattered. She was the one who taught me that if I saw the world a little differently, I wasn't weird, I was creative. Being unique was a good thing, no matter what my peers said. Finally, I was confident enough not to react to every situation the way everyone else did. I could have my own opinion and my own way to problem solve, and it was perfectly alright.

So, in a way, Junie B. not only became an inspiration for my writing, but for me as a person.

Wow, this series is getting deep.....

While we're on a roll, let's not stop there. The next book that inspired me to be a writer was one I read, ensue dramatic music, in school.

From the moment I entered high school, I was in the advanced English program. I tested immediately out of all grammar classes and was thrown into class with the sophomores. I only went on from there, taking Advanced English 10, Advanced English 11, and then the final class, AP English 12.

Within those classes, I found some books I was surprised I loved: Frankenstein by Mary Shelley, Catch 22 by Joseph Heller, and The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger, and The Merchant of Venice by William Shakespeare. However, above and beyond them all, my favorite find was The Stranger by Albert Camus.

Camus was my first introduction into true literary fiction. To this day, if you were to ask me, The Stranger would land in my top 3 favorite books of all time. And Camus would be up there with JK in my favorite author category.

Here's why it inspired me so:

First, this was the book that I truly realized the perfect beginning and ending mattered more than perhaps anything else in between. We've talked about how hard it is to begin a story on this blog before. We've talked about the need for perfect beginnings. Ends are just as, if not more, important than that.

But I never truly understood that until I read The Stranger.

The first two sentences of this novel read as follows:
"Mother died today. Or maybe yesterday; I can't be sure."

It's a simple beginning, but one that holds infinite amount of information. In one moment we're aware of just who the protagonist is. We understand what he thinks and feels. The characterization is breathtaking. We also know the setting of the first scene (a funeral). But perhaps the most important piece of information from the beginning is the reader's understanding that the protagonist is going to give what information he likes in the way he sees fit. He's unreliable for a complete, unbiased picture.

The end, I can't possibly do justice with a single quote. You must read it.

Seriously.

Read it.

Find it now.

I'll wait.

Go to the library if you must.

Okay. Back?

The end of The Stranger is so amazingly fitting for the protagonist that it takes my breath away. It was the first time in my life that I read a story and didn't long for less or more. As a reader, I was fulfilled. The catharsis was PERFECT. As a writer, I was inspired to do that much justice to the books I wrote.

Second, The Stranger by Camus was very much in line with what Junie B. and Barbara Park had taught me earlier in life. In The Stranger, the reader literally follows the protagonist around his daily routine for much of the first half of the book before the murder. Like Junie B., I learned that the mundane events of life could be captivating to an audience when written correctly.

But most importantly, these books taught me I could steal.

Yes, steal.

As in theft.

You've heard that all good writers steal, right? It's common knowledge and a famous quote. But I didn't know it until reading The Stranger. Perhaps it was the combination of mundane events with truly superb writing, but The Stranger taught me that I needn't come up with every snippet of dialogue or every metaphor, simile, and descriptive passage on a whim. I could steal the words of my family and friends, or the beautiful things I heard others talking about in coffee shops. My everyday life was lifted and used in my writing.

I started surrounding myself only with those people I truly connected with. My time went into friends who were funny, poignant, or had interesting POV's on the world.

Suddenly, my everyday life wasn't just lived to get me through - you know, eating, reading, sleeping, repeat - but as a true writer. Everything I did could be applied to my writing. Every conversation I had was free game. Every event I went to or new experience I acquired was cataloged for future use. It was after reading The Stranger that I definitively remember deciding my whole life was to be used for writing. Not just scribbling down stories but the true writing process. Every molecule and atom within me was charged.

It was that moment I became and could seriously claim myself a writer.

It wasn't by chance or grace. It was a decision.
And I've never looked back.



Photo credits both come from Amazon.com today. You can buy these books there, too.

Junie B. Jones: http://www.amazon.com/Junie-First-Grader-Last-Jones/dp/0375815163/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1423587946&sr=8-1&keywords=junie+b+jones+first+grader
The Stranger: http://www.amazon.com/Stranger-Albert-Camus/dp/0679720200/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1423588541&sr=8-1&keywords=the+stranger+albert+camus
 

Books That Inspired Me To Write: Or, When I Learned About Choices

With my start in reading, I could have easily been one of those kids who reads/falls in love with/rereads the Harry Potter series and never picks up a different book again. I would have been just fine with it. My reading would have stopped with the Boy Who Lived.

But it didn't.

The books that were formative in my early reading life - the ones that kept the spark for reading alive within me - happened simultaneously.

The first was my discovery of the Goosebumps series by R.L. Stine.

Now, I'm not sure how many Goosebumps stories I read, or even if a majority of them were a completely different series all together, but one constant remains; I adored "choose your own adventure/ending" stories.

It was the first time in my life that my decisions as a reader (and probably as a person) mattered to the outcome of the story. Who cared that nine out of ten times I chose the wrong turn and died? I was making the story happen. I was in control.

I think this power was my first taste of what it was like to be a writer. Suddenly, I wasn't just along for the ride, I was orchestrating it.

The second discovery of my young readership happened entirely because of my mother. When I was a child, my mother signed me up for a monthly reader program. Basically, every month a new 60-90 page novel would arrive at my doorstep. They were all related to animals (though I no longer remember the name of the club or even if they still exist. This was the 90s, after all). Rescuing animals, taking care of animals, learning about new animal species.

And I dutifully read every story - cover to cover - before the next one arrived in the mail.

At the time, I was just reading cute animal stories. But now that I'm older, I realize that I was learning how to foster a life-long love for reading. I flew through the books, one month after another, and was always excited to pick up the next one.

My mother was a mastermind. From Potter to the book club, she made sure that I was going to love reading all different kinds of literature.

And it was due to this that I wrote. Because the time between me finishing the last book, and prior to receiving the next in the series, I had to do something to keep myself occupied.

Yep. I wrote.

Photo Credits:
Goosebumps book cover from: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/125592.Tick_Tock_You_re_Dead_
Puppy and duck picture from: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/121597258661438479/

Books That Inspired Me to Write: I'm Talking to You, Harry Potter Generation

Lately I've felt a little distant from the blog. Perhaps it's because, for the first time in my life, I'm not in a writing class or any schooling of any kind. For a while, I also felt disconnected to writing.

Yay, adulthood, right?

Thankfully, my writing is slowly gaining more inspiration - even if it is mostly made up of rewrites and poems - and I'm working my way back to writing (even if it's nothing but a comma) everyday. 

To keep myself motivated, I've decided to start another Post Series. This time, I'd like to detail the books that inspired me to write. I think it will be therapeutic for me. To be a reminder of why I chose this path, this obsession. And also, I think it will help me bond better with you, my blog readers. I hope I don't feel distant at all ever again :)

Now, let's get down to it. If any of you have popped over to check out my Goodreads profile, you know from my about me section that one book in particular sparked the reading (and writing) bug within me. So, this Tuesday afternoon, we'll start from the very beginning:

My mother was working as an assistant school librarian when she first heard of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. Every day she worked, half a dozen fourth graders would bombard the desk, wondering if Harry Potter was in yet, and if it was their turn to receive it. The hold list for our small public school was over 50. Curious as to why this book was so popular, she found a copy and started reading. 

It wasn't too long before she realized she had to share the magical Mr. Potter and his wizarding world with her children. At the time, I was six and my brother hovered somewhere around the ages of seven or eight (I can't recall the exact month). Our first reading session happened while we were staying in a Chicago suburb at my aunt and uncle's house. We were sleeping on the floor of their office, side by side, and my mother sat between us and read, "Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much." from Chapter One, The Boy Who Lived. 

I can't remember the exact place my mother stopped reading that night. We made it far - far enough to be introduced to Hagrid, the Hogwarts Express, and the Weasleys. She had to go to bed eventually, no matter how much we pleaded for her to keep reading, because she, no doubt, could no longer feel her voice.

I lay awake for a long time. My brother had fallen asleep, his breath coming slowly, turned away from me. I could smell the foreign chemicals my aunt and uncle used to clean their carpet, and from my vantage point on the floor, the almost full moon was visible through their window. Since I was used to sleeping in the darkness and silence of rural Wisconsin, the traffic noise kept me restless. But then something magical happened.

After everyone else had, for sure, gone to sleep, and I alone was awake to hear it, a train whistle blew softly through the noise of the traffic, through the almost full moon, and through the distracting smelly carpet. And I was sure that magic, Harry Potter, Hogwarts, wizards, and friendly giants, were real. And I couldn't get enough.

My obsession with the wizarding world continued through the next six books and eight movies. The final book, The Deathly Hallows, I consumed in a whirlwind, no eating, no bathroom breaks, no sleeping, 34 hour stint. 

Harry Potter was the first book I truly fell in love with. It was the book that taught me reading could transport me from my mundane life into something extraordinary. 

As I got older, I decided I wanted to create worlds just like it. And for a while, I took that inspiration seriously. I imitated Rowling as best I could, writing  many a short story about wizards and witches and magic. Even stories that morphed slightly away from the magic of Hogwarts still had elements of Potter infused in them - the orphaned protagonist, the two best friends, the best boarding school ever...you get the gist. 

Then when I found out JK Rowling was a female author, there was no stopping me. I wanted to be just like her someday. I wanted to write a book or series of books that made people fall in love with literature like her stories had captivated me.

So, yes, it was a scrawny boy under the stairs who first captured my heart. He taught me to love reading, and writing. He taught me to want more from life than Wisconsin offered. He taught me that I wanted to be just like JK. I wanted to be a writer. 

The story continues next Tuesday... 

P.S. the image is from Amazon. Find the book that inspired me first, here: http://www.amazon.com/Harry-Potter-Sorcerers-Stone-Rowling/dp/059035342X/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1422390868&sr=8-2&keywords=harry+potter

Deathmatch: Begin!

Do you remember this post from March 2014 about the Indie Writer Deathmatch from Broken Pencil?

Well, it's January, the new year has begun, there's a chill in the air, I'm having trouble getting enough blood flow to my fingers to keep typing - and it's time for the 2015 Deathmatch!

Shake out your witty comments, literary armor, and indie reading goggles and head on over to http://www.brokenpencil.com/deathmatch-2015-quarterfinals-round-1 to check out Round One and the all the subsequent DeathMatch mayhem.

It's going to be a good year for writing, my fellow scribes.

My sword of metaphors can sense it.

Goodreads

You're going to laugh at me... I already know it...

But I'm going to admit it to you anyway: I - just today - heard of Goodreads.

I know, I know, how could a bibliophile and writer in her own right not have ever heard of the book-related social media that is Goodreads?

I'm not sure how to answer that question. Looking back on it, I'm sure I've seen their URL splashed across the first page of Google results when researching a new book. I've probably even read some reviews by Goodreads users without fully grasping how glorious of a site it is. Truthfully, I only "heard" of Goodreads by rifling through the new Writer's Digest that showed itself in the mail yesterday evening. The February 2015 issue has an article about expanding your platform on Goodreads, but just reading the features of the site, I wanted to join now!

So, if you're on Goodreads, look me up. Let me know you read the blog and want to be book buddies.

Then, let's review, read, and covet new books. What could possibly be better for the new year?