Writing Changes How You Read

I was reading over the crits on my newest work and found myself chuckling. Not at the crits. Nope, never at the crits ... unless they were meant to be funny. No, I found myself laughing at how writers read. Way back when, before I started taking my writing seriously, I would read for the pure pleasure of it. Unless something was completely out of whack with a book, I would accept that the book would explain itself or I'd make an imagination leap and accept the movement of the story line itself. Not now.

When I give works of mine to non writers to read, they expect to be entertained and as long as the story flows and makes sense they seem to fill in the gaps themselves. That is not to say that I don't get the "what the heck" looks. I do. More often than I'd like. But for the most part, non writers are more accepting.

I read the book I voted for in a book club and I found myself thinking that it was shallow and time consuming. The only thing that happened in it that I really cared about was that a rapist got killed in the end. That was the one thing that made me connect with the book. Through the whole thing I was waiting to be pulled in. Ten or even five years ago, I'd have read the book and been entertained by the dumbness of it all. I'd have been rooting for the characters with spunk and I'd have been sappily happy that the couple made it through their test and is having a baby. Barf!

I'm glad I've learned as much as I have. I'm glad I'm becoming a better writer, at least I hope I am. But sometimes I miss the innocent reader I was. The one that would accept unforeseen plot twists and fluffy writing that passed the time whether I cared about the characters or not.