One of the more popular suggestions I’ve heard for becoming a better writer is to study the works of authors who write well in the forms you want to produce. I’ve tried doing this in many ways, including re-reading a specific work until I have it practically memorized; writing paper-and-pen notes that detail a story’s plot, scene structure, character development, or any other specific plot element; and even copy-writing, where I rewrite a passage I think is especially well worded over and over again until I have an internal sense of the author’s word flow or tone. All of these techniques are highly recommended and are said to be very useful, but none of them really clicked with me.

Then I discovered annotation. If you are unfamiliar with this term, annotation is simply the act of writing notes in the margins of a work as you are reading. Sometimes it is the simple things that have the most profound impact.

I had already heard of annotation, and had tried implementing it in my upper level classes to some extent, with mediocre results, so I had never even contemplated utilizing this technique in my quest to grow as an author—until this summer.

A bit of background: I teach high school English at a private school. This means I’m not required to be certified in, or to have a degree in, education or curriculum development, at least in the state where I teach. Instead, my degree is in English literature studies with a minor in creative writing. This also means I don’t necessarily know all of the teaching techniques someone trained in education would be familiar with. I am, however, constantly searching for and studying new ways to equip my students for success in their collegiate literature classes or communication-based future endeavors. It was my engagement in this pursuit that led me to discover a new way of teaching annotation this summer.

Another bit of background: the private school where I teach is very small. In the nine years I’ve worked there, the average number of students in the entire high school has never exceeded fifty. I am the only high school English teacher, so I teach every class: on-level 9^th through 12^th as well as junior and senior Advanced Placement (AP). This fall I tried introducing (or re-introducing) annotation in every class, rather than just the junior and senior class. Each group received it differently, which is to be expected, but my epiphany didn’t spark until my last session, when I modeled annotating a story for my freshmen.

The story was “After Twenty Years” by O. Henry, a story that I’ve taught for—you guessed it—nine years. My students read individual copies of the work while I marked a digital version on the classroom SMARTBoard, explaining what notes I was making and why. It could be because this was my sixth time through the lesson in a week, or it could have been the fresh perspective brought about from teaching the same thing differently to reach a different group, but for some reason my writer’s brain seemed to enjoy a slow explosion of realization. I began experiencing all sorts of insights into the story and how it was put together. I noticed characters’ mannerisms that explained their behavior later in the story. I noticed setting elements that answered questions about how certain things could take place. I noticed foreshadowing and well-placed details that made the story’s ironic ending work in a way that was most satisfying. For the first time, I really noted what tools an author used to achieve a specific effect, not as a teacher seeking to help students appreciate, but as an artist studying the work of a master in order to gain more skill in their shared craft.

It is one of the most helpful lessons about writing I have ever experienced.

While I have only begun implementing this process (I’m currently annotating Caraval and Legendary by Stephanie Garber), I cannot wait to see how my own writing will grow.

If you would like to try this technique yourself, but are not familiar with the process and/or don’t know where to start, I recommend reading the essay “How to Mark a Book” by Mortimer J. Adler. As I tell my students, it will feel awkward at first, but it will become natural as you grow in proficiency, and your appreciation for a well-told story will grow from the practice.

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