	Bob Hostetler > Writing

The Intentional Reader

by Bob Hostetler

Prolific western writer Louis L’Amour wrote in his autobiographical Education of a Wandering Man: “A writer’s brain is like a magician’s hat. If you’re going to get anything out of it, you have to put something in first.”

Many writers make the mistake of trying to pull magical rabbits from their hats without first taking the time to tuck the rabbit away so it will be there when they need it—and they wonder why writer’s block assails them and ideas fail them.

I’m no magician, but I am a writer. Therefore, I afford reading a high priority in my life. I am an intentional reader, because I have discovered that an intentional, varied reading program will regularly put the rabbit back in my writing.

That’s why I devise a “Writer’s Reading Plan” every January. In that plan, I set a goal of the number of books I intend to read in the coming year (usually between fifty and seventy). I determine that number by taking into consideration such things as the workload I face in the coming year (which generally limits my reading) and the amount of traveling I plan to do (which tends to increase my time for reading).

But volume is far from my only concern. I also develop a plan that will allow me to derive maximum variety and quality from my reading throughout the course of a year. I pursue a variety of authors, genre, and forms in my reading plan not only for the entertainment value, but also because such a course of intentional reading does more than broaden my horizons; it broadens me. As Clifton Fadiman writes in The New Lifetime Reading Plan, “It is rather like what is offered by loving and marrying, rearing children, carving out a career, creating a home. [Such a variety of books] can be a major experience, a source of continuous internal growth.”

I also design my reading in order to achieve a level of quality that will challenge and inform my writing. Richard Ford has said that it’s a small step from admiring to emulating; reading high quality writing can raise the level of my craft as a rising tide lifts all boats. And familiarity with and careful study of those accomplished writers who have already solved the problems I struggle with—structure, dialogue, voice, etc.—can teach me, as I try to answer such questions as, “What makes this author successful?,” and “What can I learn from him or her?”

My annual reading plan always includes:

• a minimum of one biographical title, such as Henry Adams’s The Education of Henry Adams (last year) and Juan Ponce de Leon by Robert H. Fuson (this year);

• at least one memoir. The past few years I have read Angela’s Ashes by Frank McCourt, Taulbert’s Once Upon a Time When We Were Colored, and an engrossing little book entitled The Orchard by Adele Crockett Robertson.

• a healthy dose of at least four classics. This year I’m aiming for:

Pascal’s Pensees

The Brothers Karamazov(Dostoyevsky)

Tom Jones (Faulkner)

Bleak House (Dickens)

Bacon’s Essays;

• a minimum of two writing books, such as Browne and King’s excellent Self-Editing for Fiction Writers and The Writing Life(Dillard);

• at least one history book, such as Larson’s Summer for the Gods, about the Scopes trial, or Sterling Seagrave’s The Yamato Dynasty, about Japan’s Imperial family;

• at least two books by authors I’ve never read before. I must sheepishly admit that if it were not for this annual goal, I probably would not have read such authors as John Irving, Flannery O’Connor, and Anne Tyler.

• a minimum of one poetry book each year. In 1990, for example, I read Spoon River Anthology, and the next year, The Poems of Richard Wilbur, and in 1992 Robert Frost’s A Boy’s Will;

• a couple as-yet-undiscovered books from among my favorite authors, such as William Faulkner, C.S. Lewis, and Mark Twain;

• a minimum of two books in my general field of writing expertise, which happens to be Christian/inspirational (though I always far exceed that number);

• a minimum of two books in a new discipline or field of interest. For instance, this year, I’ve been reading up on Islam. Past topics have included ethics, archaeology, gardening, and personal finance;

• at least one children’s book, since I am still a child at heart and a great admirer of picture books and juvenile literature like Chris Van Allsburg’s extravagant picture books, Roald Dahl’s delightful stories, and C. S. Lewis’s Chronicles of Narnia;

• two selections from a short list of books I’ve decided to re-read every few years, some serious, some life-changing, some fanciful;

• a recent addition to my plan has been the discovery of new works of international and inter-cultural literature, such as Gabriel Garcia Marquez and Bharati Mukherjee.

Finally, for good measure, I require that at least one of the books on my list (in any category) must be what I call a “mule-choker,” a book of great heft, the intimidating sort of book I might not otherwise read. In past years, these have been books like Anna Karenina (Tolstoy), An Incomplete Education(Jones, Wilson),and The Hunchback of Notre Dame (Hugo).

My reading is not entirely void of spontaneity, however. The above list accounts for only twenty-two books; I often read three times that number in a year. So there’s ample opportunity to read a book on a whim, pick up the latest blockbuster at the mall, or borrow a book from a friend. Nor do I carve my reading plan in granite; I’m free to substitute books or shift my priorities at any time (it’s my plan, after all, not the Ten Commandments). I also keep a record of the books I read each year, as you have probably ascertained, a practice which helps me recall the titles and authors of books I want to reread or recommend to friends.

Of course, my plan is not the only way to become more intentional in your reading habits. One writer I know has undertaken a systematic reading of the “100 best books of the century” as listed by the Modern Library Editorial Board. Other alternatives might be to attack all thirty-eight of Shakespeare’s plays in a given year or delve into the 133 authors profiled in Fadiman and Major’s The New Lifetime Reading Plan.

Since devising the deceptively simple habit of planning a year’s reading in advance, I’ve vastly broadened the nature and number of books I read, introduced myself to new authors, and developed expertise in new fields. Not only that, but it has delivered me from multiple maladies of just a few years ago, such as overdosing on one writer or genre, reading only the easiest, least challenging books, and that listless feeling of staring at my bookcase like a teenager standing before an open refrigerator, wondering, What do I want, what do I want?

And, while my writer’s annual reading plan may not be magic, I’ve learned (literally) volumes about various kinds of writers and writing, and have continued the process of education—so vital for a writer—far beyond my college years. The quality of my own writing—my own thinking, in fact—has improved steadily, from my ability to select apt metaphors and allusions to the command and refinement of my own voice, not to mention the constant motivation and inspiration to produce good writing which good reading affords. All of which, more often than not, has been enough to keep the rabbit in my writing.