{"id":468112,"date":"2026-05-04T15:58:19","date_gmt":"2026-05-04T15:58:19","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/ie\/468112\/"},"modified":"2026-05-04T15:58:19","modified_gmt":"2026-05-04T15:58:19","slug":"some-students-believe-they-can-be-writers-without-reading-this-raises-many-questions-the-irish-times","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/ie\/468112\/","title":{"rendered":"Some students believe they can be writers without reading. This raises many questions \u2013 The Irish Times"},"content":{"rendered":"

I read recently, in the context of an essay on expertise in making sushi, about the three stages of Japanese<\/a> craftsmanship: learning to follow the rules; understanding when and how to break the rules; commanding expertise that rises above the rules.<\/p>\n

I\u2019m always suspicious of European summaries of Japanese thinking. A great deal is lost in translation, and the cultural contexts are so different that even an accurate translation might be hard to recognise. Even so, the idea of these stages felt recognisable to me.<\/p>\n

I\u2019ve been writing<\/a> fiction<\/a> and teaching creative writing for many years. Sometimes I encounter students who believe they can be writers without reading, or without being serious or enthusiastic readers. This raises many questions for me: why would you want to write if you don\u2019t love to read? How do you imagine you will learn to write better if not by reading other writers\u2019 better writing? Where, exactly, do you think writing comes from?<\/p>\n

Some people want to \u201cbe writers\u201d without wanting to work on writing. The writers they want to be seem to achieve fame and fortune \u2013 neither likely outcomes of a life devoted to literature \u2013 fuelled by \u201cinspiration\u201d that descends from the heavens with no effort required. They sometimes claim that reading would pollute this inspiration, exerting unwelcome influence on their pure voices. <\/p>\n

Wanting to write without wanting to read is, at best, trying to skip the first stage of an artistic apprenticeship. There are no rules in literature, but there are deep traditions and they are there for deep reasons. Writers need to know their chosen forms, to inhabit them, to test them from the inside, to understand their complexities, structures and weak points. This learning is not a stage to be traversed and left behind, but the roots and wellspring of a maturing writing practice.<\/p>\n

As we read seriously, we might notice where writers play with or depart from the traditions that nurture their work. It\u2019s rarely as violent as \u201cbreaking\u201d the rules, more like testing, bending, playing with and against the shapes and structures we\u2019ve learnt to respect. Ask why \u201cshowing\u201d is better than \u201ctelling\u201d. What\u2019s wrong with an omniscient narrator? Is there a reason why the best writers tend to avoid adverbs? Try it, see what happens, but know how to ask the questions first.<\/p>\n

And then there comes a phase where experience tells, where everything you\u2019ve written as well as everything you\u2019ve read opens the paths ahead, where \u2013 still reading, still experimenting \u2013 you know what you\u2019re doing and where you come from. Maybe you don\u2019t need to look back for reassurance as often as you did, maybe what feels like instinct but is hard-won knowledge, supports you in new endeavour. This is not the end of learning but a more exciting beginning, and you still need to read.<\/p>\n

I thought, as I read about the sushi, of my own various kinds of making. Not for me to say where I might be in the work of learning to write, but I know that as a dressmaker, for example, I am and will probably remain in the first stage. I can execute a pattern designed by an expert. Following instructions, I can usually make simple, well-finished garments I\u2019m happy to wear. Not everything comes out as hoped. I wouldn\u2019t attempt any serious tailoring and I can\u2019t and don\u2019t much want to draft my own patterns.<\/p>\n

[\u00a0Rosemary Jenkinson: A 10-step guide to being an Irish writerOpens in new window<\/a>\u00a0]<\/p>\n

As a cook, when I\u2019m on the familiar ground of European vegetarian food and especially baking, I could claim the second phase. I read recipes but rarely follow them exactly. I understand the traditions in which I work well enough to know what substitutions I can make to accommodate what I have to hand and the tastes of my household. I rarely try to cook from a cuisine I don\u2019t know, because I won\u2019t be able to tell if my work is any good, and even my experiments are imitative.<\/p>\n

[\u00a0Honing the craft of the Irish Writers Centre: \u2018It\u2019s a great story to tell, as we are a nation of storytellers\u2019Opens in new window<\/a>\u00a0]<\/p>\n

I don\u2019t for a moment think we should all try to reach the third stage of everything, or even anything. There\u2019s a lot to be said for what used to be called \u201cgood plain cooking\u201d and \u201cgood plain sewing\u201d that we might also apply to \u201cgood plain writing\u201d or driving or carpentry or any other endeavour. Simple, adequate, fit for purpose: take pride in it. <\/p>\n

Real mastery of a craft, true expertise, is another matter, a joyful thing to see in another person and a life\u2019s work to attempt.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"I read recently, in the context of an essay on expertise in making sushi, about the three stages…\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":468113,"comment_status":"","ping_status":"","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[75],"tags":[18,117,19,17,28286,2212,70755],"class_list":{"0":"post-468112","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","5":"has-post-thumbnail","7":"category-entertainment","8":"tag-eire","9":"tag-entertainment","10":"tag-ie","11":"tag-ireland","12":"tag-sarah-moss","13":"tag-weekendreview","14":"tag-your-stories"},"share_on_mastodon":{"url":"https:\/\/pubeurope.com\/@ie\/116517136393152300","error":""},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/ie\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/468112","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/ie\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/ie\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/ie\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/ie\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=468112"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/ie\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/468112\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/ie\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/468113"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/ie\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=468112"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/ie\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=468112"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/ie\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=468112"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}