Stephen King famously said that if you don’t have time to read, you don’t have the time (or the tools) to write. Especially in fiction, reading is a prerequisite to writing. How can you learn good writing and good story-telling if you don’t consume stories? How can you understand how words work if you don’t read?

There are different ways to read, and there are different genres. If I’m writing science fiction, specifically space opera, it helps to know what other writers are doing in this area. So I’ve built up a collection of space opera on my Kindle. Some are classics, like Asimov’s Foundation series. Some are more contemporary, such as James SA Corey’s Expanse series. I have older books I haven’t yet read (I’ve only got through a few of EE Doc Smith’s Lensmen books so far), and others I’ve read multiple times (including most of Iain M Banks’ Culture novels). I have long-running series and I have stand-alones.

Through reading these books, I’ve learnt not only what is considered standard for the genre but also what I enjoy — and what I don’t. Reading The Expanse showed me that while I like action, too much wears me down, and that I enjoy storylines with political intrigue. I’ve learnt that a big set-up needs a big pay-off, and that I can’t rush the ending. Where action is concerned, I prefer a few well-placed set pieces rather than a constant rush of adrenaline.

I’ve also come to realise that I like my sci-fi to have some kind of basis in real science, but not so much that I feel like I’m reading a text-book. It’s why I prefer space opera to hard sci-fi (although both subgenres have classics worth reading as well as books that, quite frankly, read more like first drafts).

But science fiction is predominantly a setting. I aim to write character-driven stories, and they exist in every genre. So I read widely. Thrillers are great for learning pacing, mysteries show me how to reveal facts and present clues. Dramas and romance stories focus on human interactions, and there is so much I can draw from them.

One of the story arcs in my new series will (hopefully) have a detective noir vibe, so I’ve been devouring books in this genre. I still have a few Raymond Chandler novels left to read, but those I’ve got through so far have been very instructive. I admire how the dialogue drives not only the plot but also the in-scene action. While the slang is dated, the way Chandler uses it is something I can adapt to my own writing.

The use of dialogue is an interesting point here. My main character in my story arc is introspective, something of a loner. But I didn’t want pages of internal thinking. My solution? The character now has an advanced (because this is far-future) AI assistant, in effect an internal character, and he talks through his problems with her.

My series deals with situations that affect many planets, so I have a kind of galaxy-wide government. Obviously, there’s going to be intrigue here, with different characters coming into conflict through differing objectives and motivations. I’m drawn to ideas of where power is held — not in the figurehead at the top, but in those below the surface, the schemers and the manipulators. Michael Dobbs’ House Of Cards books have been an inspiration here.

So far I’ve focused on story and plot, but what about the writing itself? I enjoy (some) literary fiction — although that’s a very broad label/genre, and there is excellent literary writing in every genre. When I read a well-written book now, I find myself picking up on things the author’s done with language, how they describe things, how they use words for different effects.

I also read books that are — how can I put this diplomatically? — in need of more work. These aren’t necessarily ‘bad’ books, because different readers seek different things from their stories. It’s possible to overlook clunky writing if the story or characters are engaging.

Books like these also serve as encouragement, especially when I’m struggling with my own writing. There always comes a point (sometimes multiple points) when I feel that my writing isn’t going anywhere. The story veers away from the plot. I don’t feel I have the characters right. It becomes a chore to get words on the page.

At times like this, I have to trust that things will improve — see my last post on ‘trusting the spiral’ for more on this. I have to remind myself that this is the vomit draft — get the words out, knowing that they’ll stink. It can all be improved in the edit.

And read books I don’t consider well-written. This helps give me a boost of confidence. Also, as I read, the writer part of my brain starts ‘solving’ the book’s problems. I might read a line of dialogue and imagine how I’d change it to be more forceful or to feel more realistic. If I read a bland description (rather than skimming over it — always a temptation when the book isn’t holding my attention) I’ll look for ways to make it relevant to the character or the situation, ways to engage all the senses, or ways to tighten the prose.

This feeds back into my own writing. It gives me confidence.

It can also remind me that good writing isn’t everything. As I said earlier, these books aren’t ‘bad’. Others enjoy them, despite the less-than-stellar writing. Books like these remind me that story and character are vital.

Writing involves so many strands, and so it’s important that I read widely, and with intention.

There’s another area of reading, one I haven’t mentioned yet. That’s reading for information — what’s often referred to as ‘research’. But that’s a topic for next time.

---

This is part of a series of posts documenting the writing of a new space opera series. They originally appear on my Substack, which is free to sign up to. So if you want to read each installment when it comes out (a few days earlier than they appear on this website), and delivered to your in-box, click here.

I used to think that the process of writing was easy, even if the writing itself was hard. Start with an idea. This becomes a plan. Then, write the story according to that plan. There might be some errors, so do a quick check (called ‘editing’). And that was it. A straight line, from idea to completed story.

Oh, how naive I was.

The basic premise — plan, write, edit — is sound, but the practice is far more complicated. I now see that the process of writing isn’t linear but is more of a spiral.

I like the idea of having a plan before I pull up a blank page and start writing. I need to know where I’m going. But with experience I’ve learnt that no plan remains intact once I start typing. Characters say and do things I didn’t expect. I spot things in my planning that make no sense. I’ll thrown in a bit of world-building, or a throwaway phrase, and it’ll spark ideas that could improve the story.

I usually push through with the first draft. If I back-tracked for every new idea I’d never reach the end. But when I have that first draft I do my first major edit, focusing on the story.

And this is where I pick up more problems. I work through them, improving the overall story. I take a step back and return to my planning, checking these alterations work, making sure character arcs are intact and so on. And then I return to writing.

Some scenes only need tweaking. Others have to be put aside (not deleted, because I might be able to use them later). Still more have to be written from scratch.

And after all that, with this new draft, it’s back into editing. And repeat, however many times is necessary. Not a circle, but a spiral, each time drawing closer to that elusive goal of a perfect story.

How many times do I need to repeat this process? That depends on the story. Shorter works usually require less work. Sometimes the original plan only needs tweaking. For other stories the final product is totally different to that plan.

Take ShadowSiege, the second book in my Shadows trilogy. I thought that book was coming along well, and I’d reached what I imagined would be my final edit. But in re-reading the story I felt uneasy. It wasn’t working. There were major problems with it.

To correct these problems I had to practically re-write the whole book. Frustrating, but if I hadn’t done the work the book would’ve been so much weaker, leaving me struggling even more when it acme to the final book in the trilogy.

But I’m supposed to be documenting my work on this new space opera series. Why am I mentioning editing when I’m only in the planning stage?

The answer? Because knowing the process is a spiral and not a straight line gives me freedom.

Planning can be tricky. There might be moments when ideas flow, but there’s a great deal of hard slog. I’ve realised that I eventually reach a point where I’m barely tweaking anything, where I seem to hit a wall. Usually, I have a lot of scenes planned in detail (the major ones), but I have a lot of scenes where I know what needs to happen but I don’t know how.

Once this happens, I remind myself of that spiral. The plan will change, so it doesn’t have to be ‘perfect’. As long as I have an outline, I’m good to go.

I’ve reached that point with the first book in this new series. So I’ve fired up Scrivener, opened my planning in one window and a blank page in the other, and started writing.

In an earlier post I mentioned the plotter/pantser dichotomy — writers either plan before writing, or write to discover the plan — and how most writers sit somewhere between these extremes. In my process I have some form of a plan when I start writing, and this helps me get going. But I don’t know everything. Especially when I’m working in a new story-universe, with new characters and cultures and technology, I can’t know everything ahead of time. I have to write to sink into this universe, to learn what makes my characters tic, how their societies function, how they interact with technology. And the plot (the story) can only develop once I have a better understanding of these things.

I have the formality and structure of a plan, but I also have the freedom to discover as I go. It’s a journey.
And already things are changing. I think one of my characters’ arcs is going to totally change. There are minor characters who, as I’ve been writing, seem to be taking on more importance.

I’m also uncovering themes. I’ll return to this in the future (theme is an important area, and it’s something that I’m constantly learning about).

And if the story becomes a mess? It doesn’t matter, because there’s always editing. Then amending planning, then re-writing. I could start worrying that everything’s going wrong, but I prefer to trust the spiral.