Books like Writing the Novel from Plot to Print to Pixel

King’s practical advice and inspiration guided me in writing my debut historical novel.

As a new swimmer in the waters of creative writing, I appreciated King’s opinion that writers learn best by reading and writing, and that the most valuable lessons are the ones we teach ourselves.

I’ve always considered myself an experiential learner. Writing Of White Ashes was a masterclass in asking, “Wait, how do you do that?” And quirky quotes from King, like “the road to hell is paved with adverbs,” helped me choose strong words, construct them into vibrant sentences, and piece together a story I was uniquely suited to tell. 

This book coined the maxim far and away the most quoted in Hollywood to this day: “Nobody knows anything.” I first read it the year before I broke in. My copy is heavily annotated with yellow highlighter and red pen; a black paperclip still marks the second of Goldman’s two capitalized maxims, “Screenplays are structure.” The value of this book to anyone wanting to understand – or survive in – Hollywood is that, ironically, Goldman, one of the most successful screenwriters and novelists in Hollywood history, knew almost everything, not only about screenwriting, but also the psychology, cautious care, and perilous feeding of actors, directors, executives, and the rest of the Hollywood zoo. It’s both a textbook and survival guide, illustrated with a veteran’s vivid stories about life behind the tinsel.

Rejection is a big part of the writer’s life (less so now that self-publishing has taken off, but it still rears its ugly head more times than you might expect).

Actors know all about rejection and the late Charles Grodin had more than his share. While this is technically a memoir, it’s also a handbook on how to deal with and process all the forms of rejection you might encounter on your journey. As an additional incentive to read it, please know that Charles Grodin is a terrific writer and a funny, funny man. You’ll learn while you laugh.

Why this book? Two words: Aaron Sorkin. This book collects six of his teleplays, but I think you could get just as much by watching the first four seasons of “The West Wing.” Osmosis, do your thing!

Dialogue, character development, how to get into a scene, how to get out of a scene, juxtaposition … it’s all there, and more in Sorkin’s writing. This book contains some of my favorite episodes (although it doesn’t have my favorite, “Noel”), and some of his best speeches. In particular, Bartlett’s rant in “Two Cathedrals” and Toby’s frustration in “17 People” (“I will bet you all the money in my pockets against all the money in your pockets…”) Sorkin’s mantra (intention and obstacle) is probably the shortest and best advice you can get about how to keep characters alive in a scene. Read this book (and watch the show) to see that mantra… show more.

I picked up this book as the title sounded interesting, but it sat on my bookshelves for over five years before I delved into it. Since then, it’s become one of my favourite guides to writing. It’s described as ‘probably the most unusual guidebook for creative writing in the world.’ It’s full of insights such as ‘grammar is a mapping of the human soul,’ or ‘the social word… is serious play.’ The play takes place in a field with the four ‘great human virtues’ at its corners: beauty, good will, truth, and openness. It’s a ‘sourcebook of spells’ that have the power to ‘carry you into that place of the heart from which true language comes.’

This is an excellent textbook to get readers and comic makers of all experience levels to loosen up, think deeply and personally, and make better, more confident comics. It’s warm but practical, smart but approachable, deep but unpretentious. This is a comics veteran generously sharing both her knowledge of comics and teaching, as well as her own methods for drawing, brainstorming, and writing. It’s an incredible resource and one I often find myself quoting and recommending to my own students. 

The title captivated me.

Then, page by page, the content courted me with insightful and inspiring essays. I’ve read many craft books. This brilliant and eloquent gem is my absolute favorite. Chapter by chapter, Benner Dixon and McDermott’s personal essays reveal craft—not as how-to, but rather through inference, story, and metaphor.

In the chapter on memory, they speak of how memories linger, betray us, and befriend us to be better. Consciously or unconsciously, our memories influence our writing in the best of ways, as memories are held in our bodies and in our hearts. And when we write from the heart, we’re able to give life to our characters in the best possible way, even if the memories are painful.  

Master teacher David Mura’s A Stranger's Journey addresses long-overlooked issues of race and identity in publishing and in the standard teaching of creative writing and he brilliantly advocates for a more inclusive and expansive definition of writing craft. Though this book is partly aimed at educators, he offers incredibly useful craft lessons as well, primarily through his deft analysis of work done by writers ranging from James Baldwin to Mary Karr to ZZ Packer. In a world that no longer accepts the notion that our greatest authors have to be “dead white men,” Mura offers a necessary window into the intersection of race, literature, and culture.

When examining the future, you’re always dealing with lots of different sources of information.

Trying to understand how they align, interact, and compete is complex. It doesn’t matter whether you’re working as a futurist, trying to plot out a new business plan, or just thinking about your personal life.

One thing that has always helped me is writing. Getting it down on paper is a powerful way to structure your thoughts, to share them, and kick off collaboration.

If you want help using writing to explore your mind and your world, then this is the book. It’s in many ways quite simple, but it’s no less powerful than that.

I came across Dani Shapiro’s Still Writing at a time when I believed writing to be an impossible, nay, mythical career. Like the imaginary friends from my childhood, I saw it as something I must snap out of if I was ever to find the real thing.

I loved Shapiro’s part-memoir, part-guidebook because she spoke to the true mystery and unknowingness of writing. Clarity, as she puts it, may be the main aim of our game, but it seems to fall further and further away the more we try to grasp it.

The deceptively simple language and tone of Still Writing was a timely reminder for me that, despite the difficulty, risk, vulnerability, and tumult of this discipline, writing is an indelible part of my life, which is not only possible but within my reach.