Why reading past a slow start may offer writers more than just a good story.
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Not long ago I wrote about the value of analyzing even the books you give up on and did not finish (DNFs) to improve your craft. In that post, amid the advice I offered for how to analyze a story to pinpoint why you disengaged, I also confessed that I’ve grown very willing to walk away in the middle of a book—or even relatively early in—if I don’t feel eager to read it every night in my valuable limited reading time.
But the hallmark of growth is change, being willing to allow for new thoughts and ideas and reconsider the views you hold…so allow me now to take the opposite tack and offer an argument for not giving up on a DNF.
I recently kept going on two stories that ordinarily I’d have abandoned: one a book—Malinda Lo’s Last Night at the Telegraph Club—and the other a TV series: the first season of Heated Rivalry, the adaptation of Rachel Reid’s bestselling book of the same name.
I nearly put down Last Night at the Telegraph Club numerous times all the way through to about 55 percent of the book. But the premise and promise of the story—a teenage Chinese-American girl struggling with her identity amid cultural, familial, and societal strictures in 1950s San Francisco—kept me reading when I would normally have stopped, as did its stellar reviews and awards.
Heated Rivalry didn’t really hook me until episode three or four, but the acting and storytelling were good, and a filmmaker/author friend whose taste I trust had prewarned me that the first two episodes might not seem like much of a story but that it got damned good after that. That tempered my expectations so that I persevered when I indeed might have been likely to give up on the show because the premise didn’t immediately grab me.
In both cases, with hindsight I could see what the storytellers were building and why the groundwork was laid—though arguably perhaps the stories might have been even stronger if the early chapters had been more propulsive or higher-stakes.
As a reader, maybe it’s worthwhile to give a story more of a chance before you give up on it
As a writer you may not have a raft of awards and reviews to entice a reader to persevere in your story, or a trusted source to recommend your book to readers. You may not be granted that same patience or leeway by busy agents sifting through the slush pile, or an editor navigating through stacks of submitted manuscripts to find one that will light up the acquisitions team enough to get the string of yeses required to buy it.
If you’re peddling your stories in today’s market there’s a lot to be said for a propulsive, compelling opening, for sustaining and building momentum and stakes.
But as a reader, maybe it’s worthwhile to give a story more of a chance before you give up on it.
Why It May Benefit You to Finish a Book
Here’s what I keep thinking about, and why it might be worth persevering even a story might be slow to start or lag.
First of all, as I wrote about here, it’s always illuminating to analyze what you’re reading and watching—whether you like the story or not, whether you finish it or not. In any case it has valuable information to offer you about the craft of writing and your own taste and voice.
Read more: “How to Read Like an Editor”
But on a bigger-picture level, I’ve been thinking about what it means that we may be so quick to walk away from something that doesn’t immediately grab us.
- I think about two friends I have (had?) who despite years of close friendship decided to abruptly sever our relationship because we wound up on opposite sides of the aisle in a contentious election.
- I think about the broader rising trend of people simply walking away from those with whom they may disagree or have unresolved issues or differences—the #nocontact movement that encourages people to cut off all relations with friends, loved ones, even family.
- I think about the fear and intolerance and resentment behind prejudices like anti-immigrant or anti-trans stances or racist or sexist beliefs, how people can cease regarding others—especially “other” others—as individuals, simply dismissing them based on their own assumptions or generalizations or a label.
- I think about what that easy willingness to dismiss and disconnect and divide does to us as individuals and as a society, not only pushing us ever farther apart but narrowing our own existence, making us less tolerant and less worldly, less open-minded and informed. We’re not really living, just hunkering in our safe little bubble of homogeneity.
I don’t gravitate to romance, but as my friend promised, after those first two episodes I was desperately hooked on the Heated Rivalry series, as was my heterosexual, non-romance-fan husband. We didn’t have to share the characters’ perspectives and views to understand and empathize with their situations and circumstances and struggles, to be moved by them on a purely human level.
I don’t usually read a lot of YA or historical fiction, and I was very ready to put Last Night at the Telegraph Club down for many consecutive nights of reading—and then I ended up blazing through the last half, completely hooked. And the story has stuck with me, lingering in my mind and making me think. Reading about a period in the history of our country and society through the lens of one relatable human experience helps me put our current time into perspective, refueling my reserves of hope that things have been worse in the past and gotten better—and that perhaps it can happen again.
Now I’m interested in reading more from these authors and in these genres I don’t often engage with, broadening my perspective as a reader. I have a richer, deeper appreciation and empathy for life experiences beyond my own.
Finishing these stories expanded my perspective and my world.
Life is too short, I have told myself, to waste time on stories that don’t grab me. But that’s the same argument used to marginalize or shut out certain people, which may keep us from ever getting to know someone with different experience or ideology or worldview or background or culture. It’s guaranteed to keep us stagnant and stuck.
That attitude is so much an indicator of our times, where it can seem that so many are focused only on their own experience and perspective and comfort. We’ve lost sight of ourselves as all part of the same human web of existence, and perhaps it’s made us selfish and intolerant and small.
The Power of Persevering
And this, authors, is where you come in.
Art and artists are what expand our own world, and the world. Art shrinks the distance between us, holds up what we think is a window into another life, only to discover it’s a mirror that shows us our own.
Story is among the most potent forces on earth because of its power to shape people’s minds and their hearts. It’s why propaganda can be so successful at taking over a person’s independent judgment and fan up their baser emotions.
A book—or a movie, or a show, or a painting—can change your life. It can transport you, make you think, make you feel, open up your worldview, change your perspective.
But it’s also why a book—or a movie, or a show, or a painting—can change your life. Why it can transport you, make you think, make you feel, open up your worldview, change your perspective.
Sure, sometimes you may get a clunker—reach the end and resent the hours of your life wasted with a story that never took off or left you cold. (Ask me about The Lobster. Do it.)
But sometimes you may find yourself profoundly affected by a steamy niche romance about two professional hockey players, or unexpectedly finding illumination and hope about your own life and times from a coming-of-age story about a young Asian girl.
And maybe, when you’re writing your own stories, it can remind you that pushing through even when it may feel hard or pointless or futile may yield an impact beyond anything you imagined.
Authors, have you ever persisted in a story you contemplated giving up on? What was the result—were you glad you finished, or did it never deliver on the initial promise it offered you? How do you approach the opening and build of your own stories—are you mindful of market and reader expectations in creating a strong, well-defined hook…or do you let the story grow and find its feet? And if the latter, do you think about strengthening the hook and setup in editing and revision?
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“Should You Write ‘to the Market’?”
18 Comments. Leave new
Thank you so much, Tiffany. I love this piece from the reader and the writer in me. I have given up on books and shows. A few I have gone back and reaped the rewards. The Bear was too noisy and frenetic in the first episode or two, but sticking with it, I loved how each episode peeled back a layer for each character – their backstories so strong. Schitt’s Creek, I am embarrassed that I gave up on it after the first episode. I didn’t connect with the concept, rich family loses it all and buys a motel with what they have left, or the characters. But at my sister’s urging to go back, I watched episode two, and then I was hooked. Convenant of Water, I wasn’t connecting with the characters or the timelines. I was reading some, then going backwards and rereading parts. I stuck with it because Cutting for Stone was one of my favorite books – which hooked me on page one. I knew that I couldn’t give up on Verghese. With Convenant of Water, around 30 or 40%, I fell into the story, and like all good stories, the characters have stayed with me.
“A Book — or a movie, or a show, or a painting — can change your life.” This is so true and impactful. I’ll add two things: “or a song,” and “can change and save your life.” In an ode to Dolly, it is so easy to fall into her music, songs, and words. But with Jolene, I didn’t connect. It grated on me when I heard it. But then I listened, really heard the words, and it clicked. Now, when it comes on, I am singing along, all the words in my head. Thank you, Dolly, for your grace, patience, wisdom, and voice. You have saved so many souls. God bless yours.
We gave up on the Bear too–it never grabbed us, and I think we watched three or four episodes. I hear how many people love it and have thought about trying again, but I talked to a friend whose taste I trust/share who said she watched the whole thing and it never grabbed her either, except for a few notable episodes. So I’ve resisted the urge to revisit it so far. 🙂 We abandoned Mad Men after one episode though, and now I’m thinking about trying again–I hear such great things, and have become a huge Jon Hamm fan in the interim (Friends and Neighbors…so good!). Schitt’s Creek I adored from the get-go, and we rewatched the whole thing not long ago; ditto Will & Grace, Cougartown, The Good Place, and Shrinking. And there are books I’ve reread many times.
Glad for the heads-up on Verghese–I haven’t read Covenant of Water, largely from fears of just what you say, that it won’t feel like it’s going anywhere, but you’ve prepared me to hang in there. 🙂
And yes, songs…I get that! There have been some that literally made me pull over to the side of the road just to take them in and feel them. And oh, Dolly. I think our collective hearts are broken–what a decent, good soul she was. What a legacy she left! Thanks for the comment.
Wonderful, thoughtful post, Tiffany. There’s a lot to be said for sticking with a book. I’m thinking about our withering attention spans, as Ray Bradbury reminded me recently when I reread Fahrenheit 451 after 50 years.
Too, tolerance is taking a beating with blind hatreds fueled by the unwillingness to engage with others, or to cast blame where it doesn’t belong. That makes Dolly Parton’s passing all the more sad. She was our heart and soul.
I’ve no idea how many books I DNF. 2%? Maybe? I’m always determined to give a book a chance, or at least analyze its failings. There’ve been a handful that improved and I was rewarded, but mostly, bad became worse.
Ah yes, beginnings that slowly build…
I’m old enough to remember when that was more the norm, but am acutely aware of the need for a hook. Good gosh, I’ve had that advice hammered into my brain for the last decade. Yet, while I try to hook the reader immediately, there’s a point where it becomes ridiculous. Better to be engaging. Rather than a 2×4 to the face, present a wood carving that fascinates.
I worry a lot about our withering (great description) attention spans–losing that ability to deeply focus is so detrimental not just for creatives, but for any of us. It’s where our best thinking happens, how we work through the events and experiences of our lives and grow from them. And yes, I do think it contributes to what seems like increased intolerance in the world. This is one reason I am very deliberate about my use of technology–keeping my phone notifications off and having it in a different room most of the time, limiting my use of AI to research/admin and not farming out any of my brain work to it, keeping limits on my social media time, etc.
I admit, though, that I get impatient with a story without a strong, compelling hook early enough in to invest me and keep me turning pages. I don’t know if that’s a symptom of attention spans, or just my own preference for something to happen and move the story forward. I’ve never been a big reader of literary fiction, predominantly for that reason: I need story action and momentum. Thanks for the comment, Christina.
I just had this conversation ten minutes ago with Husband. I’m on pg 41 of a novel that, based on the back cover blurb, could be a comp to mine. But oh, gosh, the backstory info dumps. Ackk! I want to stop, but that blurb contains a story element so similar to mine and that is what keeps me going. So, finding that thread of connection. Like still loving my Maga cousin because she’s got a heart of gold under all the blather. Love this post!!
I’ve also had occasion to practice what I preach with family members and friends who support things I find troubling…so I feel you! And your reasons for persisting with this book are good ones (those similar-premise stories can feel deflating!). Your seeing how backstory stalls out a story is so instructive. Analyzing any story–whether you love it, hate it, or are just bored by it–is so useful for authors. Thanks for sharing!
I just finished a book that had an interesting premise and a lot of promise, but I hated the writing. I struggled through it despite boredom and a lot of cringes. I rarely don’t finish a book, because I want to see how the writer delivers (or doesn’t) despite any misgivings I might have the first few chapters. Sometimes I’m pleasantly surprised. This particular book was not one of the pleasant surprises, and it went on for a chapter longer than necessary. That said, it gave me some insight into a project I have in works. Someone advised me to expand my initial chapter in a way that sort of resembled a reason I didn’t like this book. I did the revision, and have been vaguely uncomfortable with it ever since. I’m now planning to trust my reaction to both my project and the book I read, cut what I had added to mine, and find a different way forward. So, though I hated the book I recently read, it provided me something useful. And now I’m reading a different piece that’s pure delight from page one!
I love this, Holly–you illustrate a great argument for finishing books even if you don’t love them: It can be so instructive for your own writing.
I’m with you–sometimes I’m vexed when I do finish and it wasn’t worth it…but you don’t know till you try, right? Like with people–there will certainly be some you don’t vibe with, but we have to give people enough of a chance to see who they actually are before deciding that. Thanks for the comment!
Sometimes I stop reading because it’s too painful and my tolerance for pain – even fictional – is dropping. I was listening to “The Things We Never Say” and about halfway in, the MC does something incomprehensible (to me) and I was so worried about what would happen to him that I stopped reading/listening. Three weeks later I got the paper version and finished it, and I was so glad I did. (In the paper version, I can skim ahead a page or two and reassure myself that the Terrible Thing does NOT happen and I can carry on.) Lord! I’ve become such a delicate lotus blossom…
I think a lot of us are a bit more raw than we usually are these days. Plenty to hunker down about–it feels like we’re constantly in a firestorm. My hubs and I have been commenting how we have less appetite lately for the darker shows/movies–we crave some palate cleansers…. 🙂
“Prewarned me”? Watch that slippery slope, Tiffany. Next thing you know you’ll be pre-planning and pre-scheduling. 🙂
Susan and Holly make excellent points: As writers, we often pick up books for different reasons than pure writers do, and so our reasons for not finishing — or deciding to hang in there — differ, too. We are always looking to learn from what we read, even if it sometimes hampers our ability to just enjoy.
Ha–fair point on the unnecessary prefix. 😉
And yes, I totally agree on reading differently–I read everything analytically; at this point I can’t help it. That offers value that can push me to finish–but I am trying to develop more patience and tolerance, too, to see how a story develops…for the reasons I mentioned. I worry I might be too quick to dismiss sometimes. Thanks for the comment, Leslie.
Fascinating post as usual, Tiffany. I’m ashamed to say that, like so many young people today, I just don’t have time to plow through a War and Peace novel to get the few crumbs of interesting story, if there are any. If I read the first 50 pages and nothing of interest is happening, I go to the internet and read the synopsis in order to finish the book. As you suggested, I tend to read the first 50 pages with an editor’s eye so that I can at least glean some craft tools from the author. I’m looking for a fascinating story. It needs to be there. As a result, and because of this feeble ability to persevere, I try to make my first 50 written pages as compelling as possible, with a strong hook in the first few paragraphs, an inciting incident in the first 25 to 30 pages and strong, interesting characters. One of the best editors I know explained to me that “characters drive plot, plot drives stakes.” That’s my goal.
In terms of expanding my worldview, I think that ship has sailed. I’m 75 years old and my worldview is a shambles. The one thing that I try to remember is a paraphrase of the great orator Cicero who said, “brevity is the soul of wit.” I believe that “tolerance is the soul of enlightenment.” But tolerance is not the same as agreement. Just because I tolerate someone’s worldview doesn’t mean I have to agree with it. I think that is one of the wedges splintering our society. There is a certain comfort in having a sense of community with shared beliefs and culture, even if it’s frowned upon by the elite. Sorry, but reading or even finishing a book that is trying to change my worldview, I believe is a waste of my time. Yeah, I know, I’m hopeless.
Even if you don’t finish it’s really worthwhile to analyze why not, the way you do. And I admit not every book is one I’ll push through on. (In the other post I linked to I mentioned some bestsellers I just could not make myself finish–a fair number, actually–and I don’t regret it! 🙂 ) I’m with you on a compelling story too–without action and momentum it’s hard for me to stay engaged; no matter how beautiful the prose or intriguing the character, that’s not always enough to invest me.
Tolerance is not the same as agreement, indeed…! But I do try to understand even views I disagree with–why people hold them. People and why they do and think and feel the things they do have fascinated me all my life–no surprise I wound up in this business, is it? Thanks, as always, for your comment, Jeff.
Interesting post.
I think it also depends on your mood at the time.
I know when I watched the first episode of ‘Schitts Creek’ I must’ve not been concentrating, because when I tried again I absolutely adored it! It is one of my absolute faves and I love the actors and writing so much I have now sought them out in other series!
This is so true, Syl–and a great reminder for authors when you’re submitting or reading your reviews (for the love of all things holy, don’t read your reviews): People’s reactions are so subjective and can depend on something as ephemeral as their mood when they read your story.
You’re inspiring me to try again with Mad Men, which we bailed on pretty quickly, but which I hear relentlessly is so good. Thanks!
I’m trying to do more reading when I’m sitting at a desk with a pen, rather than lying down or reading before bed – ha! I’ve found some really great Substackers who do year-long book clubs on the more complex novels I want to read. As a writer, I allow myself to quit more current books — those in the zeitgeist. There are so many trends and genres, I need to keep up but want to narrow my focus. I confess I have tried A Hundred Years of Solitude three times but could only made it a third of the way in…
Ha–I tried that one in Spanish in college, when I was minoring in the language. It did not go well. 🙂
I don’t like to pleasure read at my desk (it’s for work), but I do keep little stickies and Post-its next to my bed so I’m always ready to mark something I want to analyze or use for a presentation. My books look like colorful stegosauruses, with their sticky flags fanning out from the pages. Thanks for sharing!