I Should Be Writing: A Writer's Workshop by Mur Lafferty (review)

My reaction to this book has been unusual and unexpected. I've reviewed about 200 books over the years and have a well-tried methodology. I read the book to be reviewed, making notes and highlighting text along the way; I dip into it, probably many times while I write the review; I complete the review and submit it; and I put the book on the shelf. But I read I Should Be Writing a second time even before I started to write this review because I had so much fun that once was not enough.

I Should Be Writing is short and sweet; it isn't really even 160 pages. It comprises an introduction (starting on p. 8) and eight chapters, followed by a few pages of resources sensu lato. Pages 102–159 are writing exercises that may be of great use to the nascent writer, but this old lag was not tempted into trying even one. So, there are fewer than 100 pages to read. Even those are divided by full-page graphic designs, so it is more like eighty or so. But that is no criticism; better that the author get to the point in eighty pages, which she certainly does, than spin it out for another fifty and say no more, but at greater length.

Why did I enjoy reading I Should Be Writing so much? Lafferty's book is sparse but covers the important points. Perhaps brevity and a lively text are the main strengths; Lafferty suggests various ways forward for the writer and then leaves ample time for actual writing! This assessment may appear whimsical but is not so intended. The book's subtitle, A Writer's Workshop (note the position of the apostrophe), is important; the book reads something like half a dialogue, perhaps part of a discussion in a seminar, with Lafferty anticipating your questions and answering them before they can be raised. The book feels intimate, as if the author is talking directly to you alone. I Should Be Writing considers concerns had by all writers, such as time, space, editing, editors, and so on, and gives solid, direct advice for all. As Lafferty says in the introduction, 'this book was designed to tell you that you are not alone' (11; author's italics). In pursuing this ideal, she provides the best sort of support—the positive and highly readable kind.

Early on, the truth is stated baldly: 'a writer must write. A lot' (14). And I would add that there is much to be gained by mixing it up. Lafferty follows a herd of other authors of 'how to write' guides in assuming that the readership is writing a novel. I have been publishing for thirty-five years, and I have never written a novel. Not one word. I never will. 'How to write' authors have a novel fixation, in part because most of them are novelists. Yet many people write for work or pleasure without writing novels. There is so much more to writing than one art form. Ignore the novel motif.

The researcher who only writes peer-reviewed research papers is going to be a dull academic. There are many possibilities open to the academic author, but my scientific colleagues only receive encouragement from their mandarins to write peer-reviewed research papers, which control, in part, prospects of promotion. Well, how dull is that? Book reviews and articles for amateurs and general-interest magazines may not ripple the water of the promotion board, but they can be both instructive and fun to write. What is bad about academics learning different ways to write and spreading their wings? Nothing that I can see.

More than once Lafferty quite rightly emphasizes that writers should not pursue the false grail of perfection (25, 49–51, 83). That is, perfection does not exist in writing. This has its parallel in academic writing where...