Francine Prose wrote a wonderfully useful book called Reading Like a Writer. I read it a few years ago and I think it is time to dip into it again. Recently I have been experiencing the frightful pleasure of having my own writing read by writers. Shortly after the demise of my previous writing group, I was lucky enough to join in with a dedicated group of writers who are forcing me to raise my game. There are two poets, two novelists, and a creative non-fiction writer plus me. Every one of them is a careful, perceptive reader. What’s more, they all read like writers. So the feedback I’m getting at the moment is precise, constructive, and inspiring.
I fear that my own contributions are not nearly as helpful, though I try. Fortunately they all write well and are unlikely to be harmed by my weak observational feedback. I spot a word or two that I think might be replaced by a better one. I fact-check. I speculate on what an action or event commits a writer to. I test the believability of described facial expressions. I don’t imagine I’m helping all that much.
Surprisingly, perhaps, I find providing comment on the poems to be the hardest. That’s only surprising to me because there was a time when I thought of myself as (and probably was) a poet. More than 25 years ago now, of course. In those days I was passionate about poetry. The group I hung with as an undergrad would argue long into the night about the placement of a word or a line’s scansion. We didn’t wear black, but our writing was dark and driven.
These days I’ve got out of the habit of reading poetry. It’s one thing to read like a writer, but reading like a poet is even harder. I see it in the commentary from the poets in my current group. They can be so observant about the weight of a single word.
I’m feeling very lucky to be in with this group of writers. And hoping that I can one day be as useful to them as they are for me.