There are countless books that give you advice on how to write. One other, often overlooked, source of inspiration and understanding is good books themselves. Practical examples are the best kind – no matter how much theory you read through, sometimes it takes scanning a story for the lesson to settle in.

With that in mind, here are 10 fantastic, enjoyable books that will highlight some important writing skills for you.

1.Old Man’s War – John Scalzi – Brevity and humor
John Scalzi’s Old Man’s War is set in the same vein as Heinlein, with a Starship Troopers-esque Universe. Where Scalzi shows off his impeccable writing talent, though, is his direct, no-nonsense prose and the quirky narration of his protagonist. Too often, SF writers get caught up in the sweeping vistas of the galaxies they visit. They focus on the science, or the settings, and the story gets lost in amongst all the nitty-gritty. Scalzi does the gritty, too, but he keeps his prose from getting too florid. Without being in-your-face-fast like Dan Brown or Matthew Reilly, Scalzi uses his quick, clean lines of writing to propel the story along at an enjoyable pace.

All the books in his series have been devoured within a single sitting by people I lend them to. This is one of the best attributes you can aim to give your creative writing , so look at what Scalzi does closely.

Scalzi’s narrator has a sense of humor that can best be described as ‘fatherly’, and this immediately gets readers hooked on the story. Writers sometimes forget that everyone loves to think they’re funny, and his characters tell each other jokes and engage in the play that shows bonds between comrades. Well-used, a sense of humor humanizes characters, makes them engaging, and brings a sense of realism to dialogue that’s very easy to miss.

Oh, and if you aren’t reading his Blog, I’m going to send a rabid pack of gerbils to your house and make them nibble on your toes.

2. Helen De Witt – The Last Samurai – Esoterica, multiple languages
Helen De Witt’s The Last Samurai is a joyful romp through the better parts of esoteric writing. The protagonist, Ludo, is possessed of a precocious intelligence, and by the time the book is finished (aged about 10), has led us through discourses in Greek, Latin, Japanese, Old Norse and Inuit. We learn about aerodynamics and fluid hydraulics, grammar and etiquette, Fourier analysis and Laplace translations.

The story itself isn’t actually that unique. What De Witt does so stupendously well in the book is throw an amazing mash of ideas together and present them with such a joy and enthusiasm that you can’t help but be swept along by it. It gets dizzying in parts, but anyone who’s spent time with an intelligent child will know that sense of joy at engaging with the world which is so infectious.

Your story doesn’t have to be as wildly varied as The Last Samurai to benefit from looking closely at how esoteric information can bolster a story. Think about your character’s approaches to life. What about their hobbies? What interesting things do they know? Hearing people enthuse about something they’re passionate about is a unique and powerful experience. Deliberately recreating that passion can make your writing better.

3. Christopher Booker – The Seven Basic Plots – Analysis and pattern recognition
The Seven Basic Plots is a rich book that looks at the idea that there are only a given number of basic plots that exist in the world. Booker comprehensively analyses the theories, and backs his findings up with a mindblowingly comprehensive list of examples, from ancient myths and classic literature right up to modern movie plots.

Reading through will open your eyes to ways that some very simple concepts can be applied in such a variety of ways. You’ll understand why certain stories are fundamentally ‘satisfying’, and variations on them can make you feel unsettled at a primeval level. Your own plotting and story creation will be strengthened by an understanding of why your stories might seem to want to ‘lean’ in one direction. Even if you choose to break with your instincts, you’ll understand why it’s natural to follow the familiar paths your stories may want to tread.

A slight warning: If you aren’t very well read, this book will give you the feeling you’re missing out on a lot of good stories. There’s only one way to fix that feeling, and it may involve missing out on a little sleep.

4. Patrick Rothfuss – The Name of the Wind – Poetry and flow
The Name of the Wind is the debut novel from one of Fantasy’s new wunderkind’s, Patrick Rothfuss. He’s already won about a billion awards for it, so instead of telling you how great it is (REALLY great!), let’s look at what the book can offer you as a writer.

Poetry is a much-maligned medium. A lot of writers, especially aspiring writers, pooh-pooh poetry as the demesne of pimply teenagers and torrid middle-aged women.

This is eminently sensible and correct.

What those writers fail to consider, though, is the concept of poetry in verse. There are a few pieces of writing where every word feels considered, every sentence has cadence, every paragraph flows with its own rhythm. Reading those books feels like listening to a symphony – words flow through your head and sweep you away. The writing doesn’t have to be about beautiful things, or even particularly nice things. What matters is that the language has been crafted to fit the author’s needs.

Poetry in prose comes about from a combination of talent and revision. Great sentences are only occasionally born. More often, they are molded into shape, excess words trimmed away like chips from a block of marble. Look after your words, and your sentences will flow. Look after your sentences, and your paragraphs and chapters will dance.

This is exemplified in The Name of the Wind. Check it out. Let yourself get caught up in the dance of language. And consider if you can do the same for your readers.

5.Dave Duncan – Tales of the King’s Blades – multiple perspectives and truths
It’s not often that Sword-and-Sorcery stories are listed as examples of complex storytelling. Dave Duncan’s Tales of the King’s Blades are the exception to that trend. A trilogy of books is set around the adventures encountered by a Royal family. Each story is told by the swordsmen, magically bound to loyalty, who protect the family.

The stories themselves are well written, fast, funny and adventurous, but it’s in the narration that Duncan does something exemplary. Each of the stories, read on its own, is cogent. Reading a second story in the trifecta, regardless of order, uncovers anomalies in the stories that can only be resolved by reading the third. Once all three books are read, it becomes clear that the protagonists in each are lying about certain facts, either to protect themselves or some other secret.

This conceit of an unreliable narrator is developed extremely well, and readers naturally sympathise with each protagonist in turn as they tell their story. Duncan does a marvelous job of showing through the series what a multifaceted gem the truth is. Cleverly, we get to see first one face, then another, never quite sure if we’ve sketched the prism in its entirety.

This technique exemplifies the potential in having multiple narrators and points of view in your story. Having lies, especially well-crafted lies, creates intrigue and suspense. People used to getting their own way, powerful people, and clever people are often adept liars. They will reconstruct events in their own mind until they’re firmly convinced that their version is what’s actually happened. The same event can be viewed differently by onlookers and participants, depending on their perspectives. Make use of this in your storytelling, and create a richer story by playing with different truths.

6.Neal Stephenson – Cryptonomicon – Delivery of Information
Neal Stephenson has a reputation for being an exhausting writer. His writing itself is clear, lucid, and lyrical. What poses a challenge to many readers, and Cryptonomicon is no exception, is the sheer volume of ideas in his novels. Cryptonomicon swings between two time lines and has a massive host of characters, all of whom think nothing of stopping the advancement of the plot to discuss the minutiae of Greek mythology, haiku construction, cryptographic analysis and the psychological foundations for stocking fetishes. Every page of Stephenson’s tome – and at 900+ pages, there’s a lot of material to sift through – has at least one fantastically intriguing idea jammed into it.

Done badly, this approach could be exhausting. Like Pynchon’s Gravity’s Rainbow, there is a wealth of tangents and seemingly irrelevant information obscuring what’s actually a relatively simple plot. If Stephenson hadn’t carefully crafted his work, the entire thing would be worse than unreadable.

Luckily, Cryptonomicon is done well. Reading through it is like walking down a beach where every piece of driftwood is covered in Sanskrit etchings, every grain of sand is a differently-hued jewel, and the waves are constantly leaving new footprints for you to follow.

Reading Cryptonomicon is an excellent example of how to deliver information well. ‘Info dumps’ are usually a sign of terrible writing, but there are ways to make them work. Having an entire book filled with ways to deliver unusual, esoteric information well and entertainingly makes Crytponomicon well worth the read.

7. JP Donleavy – The Unexpurgated Code – Character through vernacular
The Unexpurgated Code is a ‘complete manual of survival and manners’, written in a discerningly acerbic style by Donleavy. It covers social situations from the mawkish to the refined, written in a style that mixes occasional crudity with carefully refined pukka mannerisms. With meticulously plotted advice on the most socially acceptable ways to commit suicide, cheat on your spouse, poison an offensive neighbor’s dog, and survive the invetiable duels that follow, Donleavy covers a range of topics in a tone of voice that’s instantly endearing. He narrates sections with the air of the disaffected tones of one ‘To The Manor Born’ – and at the same time, taking delight in being stunningly rude to everyone he thinks he can get away with.

The book is written in the style of a classical book of manners and mannerisms, but deviates from the norm quite sharply. The subject nature is more concerned with life’s awkwardness and foibles than everyday social niceties. When those niceties eventually receive attention, then the advice invariably brings to mind the behavior of an ancient Aunt who everyone tries to steer clear of the gin at family gatherings.

The strength of the Code is in the deliberately crafted tone it takes. Without Donleavy’s careful construction of language, the book would fail. Lacking the wide-ranging vocabulary, deadpanned parentheticals and abrupt rudeness that signifies so well the class he’s lampooning, the book would be a confused collection of oddities and vulgarity. Browse at your leisure, and learn from a master of tone how to construct in your reader’s mind the quintessence of your characters.

8. Susanna Clarke – Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell – Setting through vernacular
Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell is a tale of studious magic set in early 19th century England and is written in the elegant manner of a drawing-room narration. It’s narration is bookish and reserved. Footnotes to the text, referencing made-up treatises on Faerie magic, sometimes stretch longer than the chapters they’re found in. The accounts of the story are told from a detached observer, written in such a style that to read the book without an accompanying cup of tea and cucumber sandwich feels a little like a betrayal.

The story takes a long time to build to the action. Normally this would present a weakness in writing – it’s best to begin a story as quickly as possible! In this instance, though, Clarke makes a more mellow pace agreeable by deliberately taking a reserved, scholarly approach to the story. As readers, her carefully formed sentences read like arguments in an essay.

Clarke’s deliberate choice to go for longer, genteel sentences and a relaxed pace firmly establish the setting of the story. Longer sentences naturally slow the story down. The fact that we spend the first third of the book mostly reconstructing the history of the Yorkshire Society of Magicians, and Mr Norrell’s move to London, all without meeting the main protagonist of the story, Mr Strange, all serve to reinforce the mood of the book.

Could Clarke have written the same book in a few hundred less pages by being more direct in her speech? Absolutely. Does the circumlocutory approach make the read dull or disinteresting? Not at all. Writing suffers when authors shift into long-winded writing without intending to. Like any writing device, skillful application makes all the difference. Reading Strange and Norrell provides an excellent example of how matching the narrative’s vernacular to the setting enhances the verisimilitude of the work. Or, if you prefer, match your writing style to your story’s environment, do it well, and your story will benefit from it.

9. China Mieville – The Scar – Realism through detail in world-building
The Scar is set in a fantastical world of Mieville’s creation. It is filled with sentient species that have been pulled from mythology, extrapolated from the oddest corners of biology and pulled straight from the imagination. Complex and engaging, Mieville’s world hangs together with an admirable cohesion.

Reading The Scar is an adventure twice over. The story itself is an exquisite one – crafted with intrigue, betrayals, traps, failures, second chances, discoveries. Removed from the plot, though, is an even greater trove of treasure. The wider adventure, spread over several of Mieville’s novels, is exploring the stunning world he’s crafted.

The maps at the start of the book don’t begin to cover the scope of Mieville’s creation. Writers will often craft themselves a world to base their story in. This usually amounts to little more than a map stuck in the book, a few foreign-sounding place names, and an excuse for heroes to travel from Point A to B as something to do during the story. Mieville demolishes these paltry efforts. His world is epic in scope and meticulously detailed. Dozens of species and Empires are spread through the stories, each with their own histories and relationships. Vast, sprawling cities have more flavor packed into one filthy Quarter than New York in its entirety.

What other story could you find a vast, floating pirate city, made from a flotilla of cobbled-together ships over centuries of raiding? Where else could you read about hermetic mosquito-men, held captive on an isolated island, the last remnants of a tyrannical empire? Townships ruled by sadomasochistic lovers and a curiously benevolent vampire?

Where other stories struggle to maintain internal consistency, The Scar is sprawling with delights to discover. It’s a stunning showing of how a well-created world can elevate a story to majestic heights of storytelling. Immerse yourself in it, and come away inspired to fill your created worlds with the same richness.

10. Asimov – The Foundation series – scope
The Foundation series shows Asimov certainly wasn’t afraid of a challenge. The series, epic in scope, takes on multiple generations, Empires, and twenty-odd millennia. Stories don’t get much bigger than that!

Thinking big when you write your stories? Try thinking bigger. What ripples will your story leave in your world’s history? Will your characters’ actions matter in a generation’s time? A hundred years? A thousand? Expanding your vision lets you see what’s truly important about your story. Extrapolating what changes might take place once your story’s resolved gives you a great starting point for another story!

What books did I miss?  Shoot me an email, post here, sound off!