Mortality

by Christopher Hitchens

To my writing classes I used later to open by saying that anybody who could talk could also write. Having cheered them up with this easy-to-grasp ladder, I then replaced it with a huge and loathsome snake: “How many people in this class, would you say, can talk? I mean really talk?” That had its duly woeful effect. I told them to read every composition aloud, preferably to a trusted friend. The rules are much the same: Avoid stock expressions (like the plague, as William Safire used to say) and repetitions. Don’t say that as a boy your grandmother used to read to you, unless at that stage of her life she really was a boy, in which case you have probably thrown away a better intro. If something is worth hearing or listening to, it’s very probably worth reading. So, this above all: Find your own voice.

The most satisfying compliment a reader can pay is to tell me that he or she feels personally addressed. Think of your own favorite authors and see if that isn’t precisely one of the things that engages you, often at first without your noticing it.

It struck that this is part of the genius of having the Sherlock Holmes stories narrated by Dr. Watson. It's as of you are in the sitting room of 221-B Baker Street, snug in a a very comfy old chair, near a crackling fire, glass of wine in hand, and Watson is personally telling you the most gripping tale you have ever heard. "Come, Watson, Come. The Game is Afoot!"