Reading stories by emerging writers, unknown writers, struggling writers, and widely regarded authors is a delight. Most recently, I was gratified to judge the St. Louis Writers Guild Short Story Contest. A few days ago, I listened to the six winners (three honorable mentions) read their work. I was surprised to learn that one of the winners was a young man barely out of high school or into college, one was a lady who had never entered a contest before, and one was a lady who read her work beautifully.

Gems in a stack of manuscripts are rare. Let’s face it. Entries inducing the onset of headache are frequent. But writers coaxing their work into a new dimension through reading are the rarest of all. All writers are told how important reading aloud is. Writers are rarely taught how to read aloud well. In writing conferences I have attended, writers are encouraged to read, and “readings” are always an integral part of the program. In workshops, writers whose works are about to be discussed often are asked to read a passage first. But I have yet to attend, or hear of, a writing conference or workshop where reading is taught or work-shopped as a parallel craft.

Big name authors who come to town, or sign up as workshop faculty, usually read well. I don’t know if it’s because they read the same passage and get better at it by repetition, or their agents or publishers make them practice.

But I digress. For several years, I volunteered to review story collections for an on-line publication called The Short Review. The collections came from the English speaking countries around the world. Most of the time, only one or two stories were memorable in any way. But glimpsing what writers are trying to get from the inside to the outside is always fascinating to me. Even more, comparing what is being done on the “emerging,” “struggling,” and local/regional stages to what gets published and widely circulated through the usual national and international outlets (The New Yorker, The New York Times, The Atlantic, the better known literary journals, and most recently the story apps delivering stories to your computer or device) is instructive.

What shocks me is the ratio of what is memorable or worth reading again or saving for another time to read again is about the same – sadly, very, very low. I guess the moral is a perfectly publishable story from a pro, or bubbling through the literary cognescenti, may be no more worth reading than an imperfect one ripped from the pen of an “amateur.” Past acceptances are no guarantee of future enjoyment. Perfecting a story for publication may take all the fun out of it.