How Writers WriteAs writers write
So, I looked through various old journals and in-depth reviews - many from the amazing Paris Review archive - and selected a few of my favourite authors' workbooks.
Every single of my days, my passion drives me to the type-writer, and they have been driving me there since I was twelve. Go to the typist immediately and end this. When I was raised with my family and my brothers in a small home in Los Angeles, I was writing in bedroom and sitting room.
Working on my typed machine in the sitting room, with the wireless and my mom, father and brothers all speaking at the same moment. Later, when I wanted to write Fahrenheit 451, I went to UCLA and found a cellar room where if you put ten cent in the typer, you could buy thirty-minute writing in.
One other thing I have to do when I'm at the end of the books is to be sleeping in the same room with him. That'?s one of the reasons I'm going to Sacramento to end things. In a way, the script doesn't get out of your mind when you are sleeping next to it. E. B. White, in the same awesome introductory talk that gave us his eternal glimpse into the author and his responsibilities, writes down his relation to sounds and ends with a tone that reflects Tchaikovsky's work ethic: "I never hear it when I work.
It is a light, happy room, and I often use it as a space for writing, despite the Mardi Gras taking place around me. I have never been particularly irritated by a young woman shoving a rug-sweeping machine under my desk, nor has she distracted me from my work, unless the young lady was exceptionally beautiful or exceptionally inept.
Thank God my woman has never protected me, as I am said, the spouses of some writers. Consequently, the members of my budget never care the least that I am a novelist - they make as much trouble and excitement as they want. An author who is waiting for perfect working circumstances will surely perish without even mentioning it.
At one time I had a rite to lit a candlestick and write by its lights and blow it out when I was ready for the dark..... also kneeing and prayer before I started (I did that from a film about George Frideric Handel in France).... but now I just loathe it.
And then he will add some thoughts about the best place and the best place to write: In 1977 Susan Sontag dissolves in her journal and supplements her collective knowledge of writing: I' ll tell them not to call in the mornings or not to pick up the telephone. In a Paris Review interview almost two centuries later, she describes her routine:
With a felt tip marker, or sometimes with a graphite marker, I write on either green or black notepads that represent the fetishes of US writers. and I like the slow pace of handwriting. I type it over and over again and correct it both by handwriting and directly on the type machine until I no longer know how to do it better.
I' m gonna write in thrusts. I' ll write if I have to, because the stress is building up and I have enough faith that something has ripened in my mind and I can write it down. I' m not going out, I don't remember to get food most of the night, I' m sleeping very little. Throughout 1932, under a section entitled Daily Routine, Henry Miller published his 11 precepts of lettering with this marvelous bluebreak for productiveness, inspirations and psychological health:
When you' re in good shape, write. Continue writing to complete a section after another, forever and ever. Reading in cafes. Write when you are in the right frame of mind, but only on minority programme. Please note: Allow enough light for an intermittent museum trip, an intermittent drawing or an intermittent bicycle tour.
Simone de Beauvoir helps to dispel the legend of the "tortured genius" of letters in an 1965 interview: If you go, I'll go to the newspaper or go to the store. When the work goes well, I spent a fourth or half an hours proofreading what I had written the previous morning and make a few spell-check.
To get the string, I have to study what I did. Hemingway, who is famous for writing vertically ("Hemingway is when he sings. In a couple of his extra-large slippers he faces the tired hide of a small duck, the typing machine and the breastpan.
Whenever I work on a novel or a tale, every day I write as soon as possible after the first day. There' s no one to bother you and it's chilly or chilly and you get to your work and hot as you write. You' re reading what you've been writing, and since you always stop when you know what's going to come next, you move on from there.
You' re writing until you get to a place where you still have your Schwartz and know what will come next, and you stop and try to go through until the next night when you meet him again. They began at six in the mornings and can continue until midday or be finished before.
If you stop, you are so empty and at the same it is never empty, but satisfying, as if you slept with someone you like. In 1993 Don DeLillo told The Paris Review: "I work on a hand typing machine in the mornings. Return to the era of books, which is clear - you don't know if it will pass.
I quit cigaretting-- I quit smokin' a long while ago. An author will take serious steps to ensure his loneliness and then find never-ending ways to waste it. In order to interrupt the magic, I look at a photo of Borges, a great painting sent to me by the lrish author Colm Tóín.
Of course I've been reading Borges, if not almost everything, and I don't know how he worked - but the photo shows us a author who hasn't wasted a moment at the windows or elsewhere. Benjamin Franklin, a manic prolific for production, had a very strict workday: "We had a lot of work to do:
If I' am in write modus for a novel, I get up at 4:00 and work five to six of them. I run 10km or go swimming 1500m (or do both) in the afternoons. Then I just enjoy reading and listening to it. I' ll stick to this daily routines without variety.
Willam Gibson reports to the Paris Review 2011: If I write a script, I get up at seven o'clock. And then I try to write. While I' m moving through the script, it becomes more challenging. Towards the end of a work, the state of the piece is like a chemical change that disappears when I no longer give it what it needs.
All it takes is to write all the while. I write in the mornings and then go home around noon and take a bath, because as you know, typing is very difficult work, so you have to do a two-showering.
I' m playing normal - Good morrow! Then, after all the plates were taken away, I was reading what I was writing that mornings. This is the cruellest period to confess that it doesn't work. If I have perhaps fifty pages ready and they are reading - fifty decent pages - it is not so terrible.
I' ll just go through the play and think of his proposals. I' ll write my tales in the mornings, my journal in the evenings. I' m a writer every single one. I do my best work in the mornings. The Kurt Vonnegut routines that inspire this bus were documented in a 1965 note to his wife:
After waking up at 5:30, working until 8:00, having breakfasts at home, working until 10:00, walking a few steps into the city, running shopping, going to the near-by urban public baths, which I have all to myself, and taking a half hours' swim, going home at 11:45, reading the post, eating lunches.
There' s plenty of bars.), cooking dinner, reading and listening to jazzy tunes (lots of good sound on the air here), you' ll go to bed at ten o'clock. I' m doing push-ups and sit-ups all the while and I' m feeling slim and stringy, but maybe not either. and my corpse chose to go to the cinema with me.
To increase the knowledge of loved writers, add Kurt Vonnegut's 8 Rule for a Great History, Joy Williams why writers write, David Ogilvy's 10 No Bulshit Hints, Henry Miller's 11 Bids, Jack Kerouac's 30 Convictions and techniques, John Steinbeck's 6 Hands and Susan Sunday's synthesised lessons.