12 Books (not about writing) Writers Should Read

When I started writing this blog post, I had planed on telling you why you, as a writer, should read each of these books that isn't about writing. Then I realized I was doing you, as a writer, a great disservice.

These are great books. You don't need my "why" they're worth reading. 

Once you've read them, maybe you'll have your own reason for suggesting writers read them.

Maybe your reason and mine will be the same.

Perhaps not.

Doesn't matter.

Here's the list. Enjoy.

The Things They Carried – Tim O'Brien

Man’s Search for Meaning – Victor E. Frankl

One Hundred Years of Solitude – Gabriel García Márquez

Maus – Art Spiegelman

Fahrenheit 451 – Ray Bradbury

A Moveable Feast – Ernest Hemingway

Sixty Stories – Donald Barthelme

A Short History of Nearly Everything – Bill Bryson

Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas – Hunter S. Thompson

The White Album – Joan Didion

The Hero with a Thousand Faces – Joseph Campbell

Beloved – Toni Morrison

Here are 6 more, because ... well, because a dozen is just not enough:

In God We Trust: All Others Pay Cash – Jean Shepherd 

Deep Work: Rules for Focused Success in a Distracted World – Cal Newport

Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear  –  Elizabeth Gilbert

A Thousand Mornings – Mary Oliver 

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings – Maya Angelou

The Alchemist – Paulo Coelho

And, finally, here are 6 more that you've probably read, but deserve to be reread now that you've put in some time as a writer: 

To Kill a Mockingbird – Harper Lee

The Cat in the Hat – Dr. Seuss

The Catcher in the Rye – J.D. Salinger

Slaughterhouse-Five – Kurt Vonnegut

The Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald

The Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck 

This was a tough exercise. Consider trying it yourself. 

List 12 books to recommend to writers ... but none of the books can be about writing.

You'll force yourself to make uncomfortable decisions, 'cause making a list of 250 books is easier, but not really that helpful.

Difficult decisions like how do I pick only one from Hemingway? Or how do I leave certain authors off the list altogether? Like Twain. And Austen. And Haley. And Faulkner. And Baldwin.

Told you it's a tough exercise.

But it forced me to think about writing. And reading. And my approach to my craft.

I found it worthwhile.

Hope you do, too.

_________________________

Of course, I also suggest you read books about writing: 17 Books Writers Must Read

And you might be interested in  Ernest Hemingway's suggested reading list for aspiring authors

Miles

           Miles Davis (1926 - 1991)

Miles Davis had a lot to say about his music

.
With a slight shift of thinking (and maybe changing a word or two), his observations could apply well to writing. 

Always listen for what you can leave out.

  

Sometimes you have to play a long time to be able to play like yourself.

 

Anybody can play. The note is only 20 percent. The attitude of the motherfucker who plays it is 80 percent.

 

 First you imitate, then you innovate.

 

There are no wrong notes in jazz: only notes in the wrong places.

 

  It's not the notes you play, it's the notes you don't play.

 

If you're not nervous then you're not paying attention.

  

You have to know 400 notes that you can play, then pick the right four.

  

Don't worry about playing a lot of notes. Just find one pretty one.

  

Don’t play what’s there, play what’s not there.

  

Play what you know and then play above that.

________________________

Miles Davis (1926 – 1991) was an American musician (trumpet), and composer. One of the top musicians of his time, Davis repeatedly changed the course of jazz in the 1950’s through 1990’s. He is considered one of the most influential figures in 20th-century music.

 

Get the Dog's Name

When I was studying journalism in college, my professor Verne Edwards taught us that a reporter must never come back from a story without the name of the dog.

Verne Edwards (1924-2019)

It was his way of teaching us that if we're curious, attentive, and thorough enough to get the dog's name, we'll gather all the relevant details needed to tell the story.

Now that I'm a copy and content writer, in my research I always get the name of the dog.

And I urge you to do the same.

But please, know when not to include the dog's name.

View from a sidewalk café. Amsterdam. (Part 1)

People walking with determination. A purpose. Somewhere to be.

I’ve reached my destination. My only purpose to be where I am.

A woman passes with her skirt bouncing in rhythm with her long brown hair fighting gravity with every fast-paced step.

A brindle short-haired terrier, undeterred by a thousand enticing smells, trots next to a painfully slim man wearing oversized headphones that draw attention to a rune tattoo on his neck.

A gentleman with tousled white hair stands out in an old-fashioned plaid sports coat that hangs from his stooped shoulders. In his hand a plastic bag imprinted: Amsterdam International Book Fair. Through the frosted plastic you can just make out a small book and a receipt. This image will undoubtably return for me to guess the gook he ventured out to get. Right now, I’m thinking a first edition of Hemingway’s “A Moveable Feast.” With dust jacket.

A server stops, pulls the order pad from her apron, and gives me the universal raised eyebrow head tilt. “Espresso, please.” She nods and is gone before I have a chance to ask her how to say “please” in Dutch.

When she returns with the comically small cup, I ask her how to say, “thank you.” Even though she has brought me an americano.

Every half hour the bells in the square chime the first dozen notes of a song I recognize but can’t name.

The server who had brought my coffee offers to open the umbrella next to my table. It gives me a chance to use my new Dutch work: “dankuvell.” It means “thank you.” At lease I hope it does. She smiles. Either at my expression of appreciation or at the inside joke that people from Amsterdam tell out-of-towners that “dankuvell” means “thank you” when it actually means “bite my toenail.”

A mighty leap takes her high enough to brush the edge of the café umbrella with her fingertips. She looks to her father for approval. He didn’t notice her accomplishment, much less how her pigtails flew with her and bounced on landing like they were trying to escape and start a life of their own. Maybe in Honolulu.

A fresh Nazi SS insignia tattoo screams from a beefy upper arm. I’m visiting Anne Frank’s house tomorrow.

_________________________

View from a sidewalk café. Amsterdam.

Part 2

View from a sidewalk café. Amsterdam.
Part 3