Blog Post # 8: Ray Atkins Wishes You All Well

Beach Readings for Writers has been an enjoyable class for me, both because of the selection of books on the reading list and because of my interactions with all of you. During the course of the semester I learned (or re-learned) a bit more about the complex craft of writing from each of the authors we read.

In A Moveable Feast, Ernest Hemingway reminded me that being a writer is very cool. No, really. I became a writer in the first place because I always believed that it was the best of all possible occupations. Occasionally I have forgotten this and have allowed the realities of the writing life to spoil the experience, and I was going through such a period when I opened this book. Thanks, Papa, for adjusting my attitude.

In A Prince of Tides, Pat Conroy rekindled my lifelong love affair with beautiful language. As far back as I can remember, I have been drawn to books with lush, descriptive words and exotic turns of phrase. I have always believed that how a story is told is at least as important as the story itself, and every time I read Conroy, I am encouraged to write magnificent sentences.

In Olive Kitteridge, Elizabeth Strout taught me that a character doesn’t have to be likeable in order to be sympathetic. This was an epiphany for me. Olive was an unpleasant, selfish woman. I took an instant dislike to her. Yet by the middle of the book, I truly cared about her, and I wanted her life to turn out all right.

In The White Tiger, Aravind Adiga taught me that a book can be serious and whimsical at the same time. I think that this is an especially important skill for writers of serious fiction. Have you ever sat down with an “important” book only to have the author beat you over the head with the book’s message? I usually end up with a headache, and the book generally finds itself donated to the Salvation Army.

In Lime Tree Can’t Bear Orange, Amanda Smyth showed me that simple can sometimes be better. As I have said, I love rich language, but there is a fine line between a verdant sentence and an overwritten one. Smyth walks this line and makes it look easy for the rest of us to follow.

In The Elegance of the Hedgehog, Muriel Barbery reminded me of the importance of titles. This seems like such a simple lesson, but that is precisely why it is easy to forget. It doesn’t matter how great your book is if no one picks it up in the first place.

In A Pearl in the Storm, Tori Murden McClure taught me the importance of action. The action in her story was non-stop, and the book was hard to put down as a result.

And finally, in The Ghost of Milagro Creek, Melanie Sumner taught me that it’s okay for a writer to get outside of her comfort zone if the story she wishes to tell is out there beyond the boundaries, waiting.