While signing my high school yearbook, a friend who’d been in the music program with me wrote that she admired me for going to college for music, that she’d considered it herself but didn’t want to ruin her “innocent love” for music. I’d never thought of it that way before, but it struck me as worrisome. If you pursue your passion hard, if you learn everything you can about it, is there a danger that you’ll suck all the life out of it?

When I started taking writing classes, reading books about writing, and reading for edification rather than only for pleasure, I worried that the more I learned about writing, the more critical I’d be about the books I read. I love writing, but that love came out of my love for reading, not the other way around. Was it possible for me to spoil my biggest passion and lifelong habit?

I kept this worry in the back of my mind as I continued to learn. And I’ve finally come to the conclusion that while it may be possible to destroy something you love by over-loving it (see: Velveteen Rabbit), it’s easy to avoid with a simple change in mindset.

It’s true that I am now more picky about the books I read. It’s also true that I’ve become a book “abandoner:” I’m willing to stop reading a book if I’m not responding to it. There are too many wonderful books in the world for me to waste time on ones I don’t enjoy. But if anything, learning about writing has taught me to read more widely, not less. It’s prompted me to pick up more books, not fewer. And it’s helped me figure out why I like the books I like, and what rubs me the wrong way or triggers negative reactions.

Here’s how to not take the fun out of your passion: you have to find at least one element that you can respond to in each new project. Whether it be a book, piece of music or recipe: even if it’s not perfect, even if you can see the flaws better because you’ve learned how to spot them, you must allow your appreciation for the things that are done well.

For example:

I recently read The Midwife’s Confession by Diane Chamberlain. I didn’t think the characters went very deep; in fact, one of the male leads was astonishingly flat. And despite the originality of the premise, I could easily predict the ending after reading only about 30% of the book. But I thought the writer did an excellent job with the pacing and tension. Even though I had pinpointed the ending, I still couldn’t put the book down. And I’ll give Chamberlain’s future books a try. Maybe she’ll get better at creating deeper characters and more surprising plots, while keeping that strength in tension and pacing.

In another example, I’m a big fan of Gretchen Rubin’s. I’ve read all of her books, I listen to her podcast every week, and I read her blog posts. That’s a pretty committed fan! However, I’ve never liked her writing style or her voice. I don’t love the words she chooses, but I do love her wisdom. I can look past the voice to find the nuggets of insight underneath.

In both of these cases, my critical writer’s eye revealed flaws, but it also found things to admire and emulate. Far from “spoiling” my love for reading, learning about it has only enhanced my passion.

So I’m going to respectfully disagree with my old high school friend, and express regret that she didn’t pursue music if she felt passionate about it. She might be missing out on an even greater love.