When I first began actively reading in high school, I saw something that I still make sure to put to practice every time I read. It's an invaluable lesson that I explicitly learned throughout my studies in English, Creative Writing, and Religion at my university. In fact, I remember it every time I pick up a book, scour an article, or hear a quote that steals my attention. I take it with me as I make my way through this life.
The lesson itself is a bit like a secret passed down from history's greatest explorers of all kinds—readers, philosophers, teachers, writers, and artists. The earlier it's learned, and the faster it's implemented, the better. It's simple, yet magically profound:
If you read without a pen, you may be doing it wrong.
The Beginning
It all started when I saw some friends of mine doing it every time they would read. Intermittently, as they followed along with the lines of text, they'd pick up their closest writing utensil and, without a second thought, add their own flourishes to the pages: underlined paragraphs; bits of their own thoughts in the margins; circles around catchy phrases; question marks, smiley faces, and curse words, too.
Initially, I was shocked when I saw them seemingly defile the published pieces. See, I used to think that it was a crime to write in a book. If you had the audacity to put pen to a published page, then you had a courage that I had yet to discover. Even so, there my friends were, breaking all the rules and getting away with it. Their novels were full of notes and their poetry collections littered with contributed yearnings.
Once I saw that, the way I read and consume art changed forever. I accepted that reading with a pen was not only okay to do (unless if the book is from a public library or borrowed, obviously), but it was something that all readers should do. Doing so can unlock a deeper level of experience and understanding.
Today, I never dare read a single word without having a writing tool nearby. Because if I were to uncover something special within the reading and couldn't make note of it, I'd fear that it'd become lost to me forever.
Golden Lines
A professor of mine called them "Golden Lines." After introducing the concept to us, they quickly became a central focus of the course that semester. Because at the start of every one of her classes, we'd go through and share some of the Golden Lines we each uncovered from the previous reading assignment.
Now, I also call them Golden Lines.
So, what exactly is a Golden Line? Golden Lines are those gems within the literature that have caught your eye and refuse to let go. They are the lines that you absolutely need to underline or highlight. Because you'll be doing the author and yourself a disservice if you don't pluck them out.
Ultimately, they can come from any medium of writing, art, or language. Anything ranging from a screenplay, a podcast, a novel, a poem, an article—it doesn't matter. As long as the words stir something inside, signify it. It doesn't need to be prescriptive. The words can simply sound elegant, cut straight to the bone, or be easily pictured stitched on a throw pillow.
Golden Lines deserve recognition. They need you to discover them.
Perhaps you can even start a commonplace book—the kind of journal that helped inspire the initial framework for this very newsletter—and compile all of your Golden Lines in it. Or use a platform like Readwise that does a lot of the heavy lifting for you when it comes to logging those literary treasures.
As a Cristian's Commonplace subscriber, you've surely seen selections of Golden Lines from my recent reads in certain entries (and will see plenty more).
Start Exploring for Yourself
I had a different professor who was so particular of her books. She'd freak if the slightest speck of dust would meet the pages of something from her collection. And that's okay, too. I've been there. To each their own.
But as for me, I'll keep searching and spotlighting those Golden Lines. I encourage you to try it out, too.
Sometimes I underline entire paragraphs. Other times, it's a single phrase. No matter the length, if I find the gem, I make sure to take note. I also add annotations in the margins—aka marginalia—of the books I read.
Reading is a way forward on the path of discovery. A pen is a tool you should use to help you along the journey.
If you look at my bookshelf, the books are sure to have more ink than they came with. As a writer, I'd hope that my work might also meet some new ink as well.
Not that you need it, but I give you all the permission in the world to contribute to any pages I publish. I'd consider it an honor.
So, give it a try. Next time you find a sentence or paragraph that sparks something in you, underline it. If still wary at the start, copy it to a separate notebook and write why you love it. Write down questions, too. Or do all of that and then some. Find a process that works for you. Just explore in a way that'll make your reading adventures any bit more memorable.
Because, in the future, you might look back and find that the ink you added to the stories helped freeze bits of yourself in between the pages. What a special thing, to rediscover your discoveries, to acknowledge the past versions of you.
Use your pen like a shovel to mine and discover the gems from the great abyss that is the human experience.
This piece was originally published on Medium in 2018. It has been revised and updated for this Cristian's Commonplace entry.
