How to be a better reader

And one guilty admission

Nov 14, 2024

I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but I’ve never understood why writers need to read.

Read great writing if you want to be a writer sounds sensible, but I’ve been mulling this over for decades and I still don’t get it.

How is reading great writing supposed to help? I read Kazuo Ishiguro, Margaret Atwood, Ted Chiang, and many others whose words are perfection. Am I to mimic their style, steal their phrases, copy their punctuation?

Or if the point isn’t to transpose their greatness onto my writing, what is it? Am I meant to be inspired? Have my love for words ignite into the one flame to incinerate all self-doubt? What lessons am I to learn? What conclusions am I to draw?

I’ve been writing on and off for over a decade, and in that time the only thing I’ve found to help me write better is, well, writing.

And this one book.

The one book to rule them all

The one book that did make me a better writer is William Zinsser’s classic On Writing Well. In it he lays out the dos and don’ts of writing with precision, illustrating his illuminating principles with enviable prose.

But his prose is not what helped me.

On Writing Well made me a better writer because Zinsser’s conviction of what it took to write well—a conviction that emanated from every word, every punctuation—changed my mind on what it took to call myself a writer.

Pre-Zinsser, I believed I was a writer by dint of writing. Zinsser convinced me this wasn’t enough. To call myself a writer, I had to write well, and always.

This newfound conviction revolutionised how I wrote, everywhere. No longer did I agonise over my newsletters while throwing up half-formed thoughts on social media. I now treated every platform I was on as an opportunity to showcase my writing. I was a writer, and shame on me if a single follower found my threads wanting.

For this change I will always be grateful to the late Zinsser. But not only this.

Because Zinsser’s book didn’t only make me a better writer, it made me a better reader too.

How I became a better reader

Before Zinsser, I didn’t know what I was reading book after book for. For three decades I had read, but the reason I kept up the habit—even forced it when I didn’t feel inclined—was because everyone said reading was a good thing, and I believed them.

Then Zinsser’s book redefined what being a writer meant for me, and I realised what all my reading had been for:

I read to expand my mind.

I don’t read for knowledge. I don’t read for entertainment. I don’t read to escape. I don’t even read to learn great writing.

The only reason I read—the only reading I enjoy—is books that expand my mind.

Books that change the way I view myself and the world. Books that break ceilings, redefine what’s possible.

Knowing this changed everything. My reading was no longer guided by a cliché I never questioned. I now had a purpose I’d defined for myself. Each book I considered buying, reading, giving up, I asked: Will this expand my mind?

Knowing exactly what I’m reading for made me more selective and, as a result, my reading more rewarding. I found myself enjoying more deeply the books I chose to read, rejoicing in the spectacle of having my mind blown, over and over again.

Gone are the days when I didn't feel like reading, when browsing a bookstore didn’t spark joy. Because I now know exactly what I’m reading for, and I am always hungry for more.

I’m just a better reader, and you can be too.

What do you think?

Knowing what I’m reading for transformed my reading from a conscious habit into an effortless addiction. Let’s see what it does for you:

What do you read for?

Is it for enjoyment? Knowledge? Escape? Giggles? Please hit “reply” or leave a comment—I read every response and I’d love to hear from you. If you want, share this post with someone who wants more from their reading.