The Daily Routines of Famous Writers

A writer who waits for ideal conditions under which to work will die without putting a
word on paper.
Kurt Vonneguts recently published daily routine made we wonder how other beloved
writers organized their days. So I pored through various old diaries and interviews
many from the fantastic Paris Review archives and culled a handful of writing routines
from some of my favorite authors. Enoy.
!ay "radbury# a lifelong proponent of wor$ing with oy and an avid champion of public
libraries# playfully defies the %uestion of routines in this &'(' interview)
(
*y passions drive me to the typewriter every day of my life# and they have driven me
there since I was twelve. So I never have to worry about schedules. Some new thing is
always e+ploding in me# and it schedules me# I dont schedule it. It says) ,et to the
typewriter right now and finish this.
-./
I can wor$ anywhere. I wrote in bedrooms and living rooms when I was growing up with
my parents and my brother in a small house in 0os 1ngeles. I wor$ed on my typewriter in
the living room# with the radio and my mother and dad and brother all tal$ing at the same
time. 0ater on# when I wanted to write 2ahrenheit 34(# I went up to 5601 and found a
basement typing room where# if you inserted ten cents into the typewriter# you could buy
thirty minutes of typing time.
7oan 8idion creates for herself a $ind of incubation period for ideas# articulated in this
(9:; interview)
&
I need an hour alone before dinner# with a drin$# to go over what Ive done that day. I
cant do it late in the afternoon because Im too close to it. 1lso# the drin$ helps. It
removes me from the pages. So I spend this hour ta$ing things out and putting other
things in. <hen I start the ne+t day by redoing all of what I did the day before# following
these evening notes. =hen Im really wor$ing I dont li$e to go out or have anybody to
dinner# because then I lose the hour. If I dont have the hour# and start the ne+t day with
ust some bad pages and nowhere to go# Im in low spirits. 1nother thing I need to do#
when Im near the end of the boo$# is sleep in the same room with it. <hats one reason I
go home to Sacramento to finish things. Somehow the boo$ doesnt leave you when
youre asleep right ne+t to it. In Sacramento nobody cares if I appear or not. I can ust get
up and start typing.
>
E. ". =hite# in the same fantastic interview that gave us his timeless insight on the role
and responsibility of the writer# notes his relationship with sound and ends on a note
echoing <chai$ovs$y on wor$ ethic)
I never listen to music when Im wor$ing. I havent that $ind of attentiveness# and I
wouldnt li$e it at all. ?n the other hand# Im able to wor$ fairly well among ordinary
distractions. *y house has a living room that is at the core of everything that goes on) it
is a passageway to the cellar# to the $itchen# to the closet where the phone lives. <heres a
lot of traffic. "ut its a bright# cheerful room# and I often use it as a room to write in#
despite the carnival that is going on all around me. 1 girl pushing a carpet sweeper under
my typewriter table has never annoyed me particularly# nor has it ta$en my mind off my
wor$# unless the girl was unusually pretty or unusually clumsy. *y wife# than$ ,od# has
never been protective of me# as# I am told# the wives of some writers are. In conse%uence#
the members of my household never pay the slightest attention to my being a writing man
they ma$e all the noise and fuss they want to. If I get sic$ of it# I have places I can go.
1 writer who waits for ideal conditions under which to wor$ will die without putting a
word on paper.
3
Photograph by Tom Palumbo, !"#
7ac$ Kerouac describes his rituals and superstitions in (9:;)
I had a ritual once of lighting a candle and writing by its light and blowing it out when I
was done for the night . also $neeling and praying before starting @I got that from a
2rench movie about ,eorge 2rideric AandelB . but now I simply hate to write. *y
superstitionC Im beginning to suspect the full moon. 1lso Im hung up on the number
nine though Im told a Discean li$e myself should stic$ to number sevenE but I try to do
nine touchdowns a day# that is# I stand on my head in the bathroom# on a slipper# and
touch the floor nine times with my toe tips# while balanced. <his is incidentally more than
yoga# its an athletic feat# I mean imagine calling me Funbalanced after that. 2ran$ly I do
feel that my mind is going. So another Fritual as you call it# is to pray to 7esus to preserve
my sanity and my energy so I can help my family) that being my paralyzed mother# and
my wife# and the everGpresent $itties. ?$ayC
Ae then adds a few thought on the best time and place for writing)
<he des$ in the room# near the bed# with a good light# midnight till dawn# a drin$ when
you get tired# preferably at home# but if you have no home# ma$e a home out of your
hotel room or motel room or pad) peace.
4
Susan Sontag resolves in her diary in (9HH# adding to her collected wisdom on writing)
Starting tomorrow if not today)
I will get up every morning no later than eight. @6an brea$ this rule once a wee$.B
I will have lunch only with !oger -Straus/. @FIo# I dont go out for lunch. 6an brea$ this
rule once every two wee$s.B
I will write in the Ioteboo$ every day. @*odel) 0ichtenbergs =aste "oo$s.B
I will tell people not to call in the morning# or not answer the phone.
I will try to confine my reading to the evening. @I read too much as an escape from
writing.B
I will answer letters once a wee$. @2ridayC I have to go to the hospital anyway.B
<hen# in a Paris Review interview nearly two decades later# she details her routine)
:
I write with a feltGtip pen# or sometimes a pencil# on yellow or white legal pads# that
fetish of 1merican writers. I li$e the slowness of writing by hand. <hen I type it up and
scrawl all over that. 1nd $eep on retyping it# each time ma$ing corrections both by hand
and directly on the typewriter# until I dont see how to ma$e it any better. 5p to five years
ago# that was it. Since then there is a computer in my life. 1fter the second or third draft it
goes into the computer# so I dont retype the whole manuscript anymore# but continue to
revise by hand on a succession of hardGcopy drafts from the computer.
-./
I write in spurts. I write when I have to because the pressure builds up and I feel enough
confidence that something has matured in my head and I can write it down. "ut once
something is really under way# I dont want to do anything else. I dont go out# much of
the time I forget to eat# I sleep very little. Its a very undisciplined way of wor$ing and
ma$es me not very prolific. "ut Im too interested in many other things.
H
In (9>&# under a section titled $aily Routine# Aenry *iller footnotes his ((
commandments of writing with this wonderful blueprint for productivity# inspiration# and
mental health)
*?!III,S)
If groggy# type notes and allocate# as stimulus.
If in fine fettle# write.
12<E!I??IS)
;
=or$ of section in hand# following plan of section scrupulously. Io intrusions# no
diversions. =rite to finish one section at a time# for good and all.
EVEIII,S)
See friends. !ead in cafJs.
E+plore unfamiliar sections on foot if wet# on bicycle if dry.
=rite# if in mood# but only on *inor program.
Daint if empty or tired.
*a$e Iotes. *a$e 6harts# Dlans. *a$e corrections of *S.
%ote& 1llow sufficient time during daylight to ma$e an occasional visit to museums or an
occasional s$etch or an occasional bi$e ride. S$etch in cafJs and trains and streets. 6ut
the moviesK 0ibrary for references once a wee$.
In this (9:4 interview# Simone de "eauvoir contributes to dispelling the LtorturedG
geniusM myth of writing)
9
Im always in a hurry to get going# though in general I disli$e starting the day. I first have
tea and then# at about ten ocloc$# I get under way and wor$ until one. <hen I see my
friends and after that# at five ocloc$# I go bac$ to wor$ and continue until nine. I have no
difficulty in pic$ing up the thread in the afternoon. =hen you leave# Ill read the paper or
perhaps go shopping. *ost often its a pleasure to wor$.
-./
If the wor$ is going well# I spend a %uarter or half an hour reading what I wrote the day
before# and I ma$e a few corrections. <hen I continue from there. In order to pic$ up the
thread I have to read what Ive done.
Ernest Aemingway# who famously wrote standing @'emingway stands when he writes.
'e stands in a pair of his oversi(ed loafers on the worn skin of a lesser kudu)the
('
typewriter and the reading board chest*high opposite him.B# approaches his craft with
e%ual parts poeticism and pragmatism)
=hen I am wor$ing on a boo$ or a story I write every morning as soon after first light as
possible. <here is no one to disturb you and it is cool or cold and you come to your wor$
and warm as you write. Nou read what you have written and# as you always stop when
you $now what is going to happen ne+t# you go on from there. Nou write until you come
to a place where you still have your uice and $now what will happen ne+t and you stop
and try to live through until the ne+t day when you hit it again. Nou have started at si+ in
the morning# say# and may go on until noon or be through before that. =hen you stop you
are as empty# and at the same time never empty but filling# as when you have made love
to someone you love. Iothing can hurt you# nothing can happen# nothing means anything
until the ne+t day when you do it again. It is the wait until the ne+t day that is hard to get
through.
8on 8e0illo tells The Paris Review in (99>)
I wor$ in the morning at a manual typewriter. I do about four hours and then go running.
<his helps me sha$e off one world and enter another. <rees# birds# drizzle its a nice
$ind of interlude. <hen I wor$ again# later afternoon# for two or three hours. "ac$ into
boo$ time# which is transparent you dont $now its passing. Io snac$ food or coffee.
Io cigarettes I stopped smo$ing a long time ago. <he space is clear# the house is %uiet.
1 writer ta$es earnest measures to secure his solitude and then finds endless ways to
s%uander it. 0oo$ing out the window# reading random entries in the dictionary. <o brea$
the spell I loo$ at a photograph of "orges# a great picture sent to me by the Irish writer
6olm <OPn. <he face of "orges against a dar$ bac$ground "orges fierce# blind# his
nostrils gaping# his s$in stretched taut# his mouth amazingly vividE his mouth loo$s
paintedE hes li$e a shaman painted for visions# and the whole face has a $ind of steely
rapture. Ive read "orges of course# although not nearly all of it# and I dont $now
anything about the way he wor$ed but the photograph shows us a writer who did not
((
waste time at the window or anywhere else. So Ive tried to ma$e him my guide out of
lethargy and drift# into the otherworld of magic# art# and divination.
Droductivity maniac "enamin 2ran$lin had a formidably rigorous daily routine)
(&
+mage by %ick ,ilton
Haruki Murakami shares the mindGbody connection noted by some of historys famous
creators)
=hen Im in writing mode for a novel# I get up at 3)'' am and wor$ for five to si+ hours.
In the afternoon# I run for ('$m or swim for (4''m @or do bothB# then I read a bit and
(>
listen to some music. I go to bed at 9)'' pm. I $eep to this routine every day without
variation. <he repetition itself becomes the important thingE its a form of mesmerism. I
mesmerize myself to reach a deeper state of mind.
=illiam ,ibson tells the Paris Review in &'(()
=hen Im writing a boo$ I get up at seven. I chec$ my eGmail and do Internet ablutions#
as we do these days. I have a cup of coffee. <hree days a wee$# I go to Dilates and am
bac$ by ten or eleven. <hen I sit down and try to write. If absolutely nothing is
happening# Ill give myself permission to mow the lawn. "ut# generally# ust sitting down
and really trying is enough to get it started. I brea$ for lunch# come bac$# and do it some
(3
more. 1nd then# usually# a nap. Iaps are essential to my process. Iot dreams# but that
state adacent to sleep# the mind on wa$ing.
-./
1s I move through the boo$ it becomes more demanding. 1t the beginning# I have a fiveG
day wor$wee$# and each day is roughly ten to five# with a brea$ for lunch and a nap. 1t
the very end# its a sevenGday wee$# and it could be a twelveGhour day.
<oward the end of a boo$# the state of composition feels li$e a comple+# chemically
altered state that will go away if I dont continue to give it what it needs. =hat it needs is
simply to write all the time. 8owntime other than simply sleeping becomes problematic.
Im always glad to see the bac$ of that.
*aya 1ngelou shares her day with Paris Review in (99')
I write in the morning and then go home about midday and ta$e a shower# because
writing# as you $now# is very hard wor$# so you have to do a double ablution. <hen I go
out and shop Im a serious coo$ and pretend to be normal. I play sane ,ood
morningK 2ine# than$ you. 1nd youC 1nd I go home. I prepare dinner for myself and if I
have houseguests# I do the candles and the pretty music and all that. <hen after all the
dishes are moved away I read what I wrote that morning. 1nd more often than not if Ive
done nine pages I may be able to save two and a half or three. <hats the cruelest time
you $now# to really admit that it doesnt wor$. 1nd to blue pencil it. =hen I finish maybe
(4
fifty pages and read them fifty acceptable pages its not too bad. Ive had the same
editor since (9:H. *any times he has said to me over the years or as$ed me# =hy would
you use a semicolon instead of a colonC 1nd many times over the years I have said to him
things li$e) I will never spea$ to you again. 2orever. ,oodbye. <hat is it. <han$ you very
much. 1nd I leave. <hen I read the piece and I thin$ of his suggestions. I send him a
telegram that says# ?K# so youre right. So whatC 8ont ever mention this to me again. If
you do# I will never spea$ to you again. 1bout two years ago I was visiting him and his
wife in the Aamptons. I was at the end of a dining room table with a sitGdown dinner of
about fourteen people. =ay at the end I said to someone# I sent him telegrams over the
years. 2rom the other end of the table he said# 1nd Ive $ept every oneK "ruteK "ut the
editing# ones own editing# before the editor sees it# is the most important.
1naQs Iin simply notes# in a (93( parenthetical comment# in the third volume of her
diaries)
I write my stories in the morning# my diary at night.
She then adds in the fifth volume# in (93;.
(:
I write every day. . I do my best wor$ in the morning.
0astly# the Kurt Vonnegut routine that inspired this omnibus# recorded in a letter to his
wife in (9:4)
In an unmoored life li$e mine# sleep and hunger and wor$ arrange themselves to suit
themselves# without consulting me. Im ust as glad they havent consulted me about the
tiresome details. =hat they have wor$ed out is this) I awa$e at 4)>'# wor$ until ;)''# eat
brea$fast at home# wor$ until (')''# wal$ a few bloc$s into town# do errands# go to the
nearby municipal swimming pool# which I have all to myself# and swim for half an hour#
return home at (()34# read the mail# eat lunch at noon. In the afternoon I do schoolwor$#
either teach or prepare. =hen I get home from school at about 4)>'# I numb my twanging
intellect with several belts of Scotch and water @R4.''Sfifth at the State 0i%uor store# the
only li%uor store in town. <here are loads of bars# though.B# coo$ supper# read and listen
to azz @lots of good music on the radio hereB# slip off to sleep at ten. I do pushups and sitG
ups all the time# and feel as though I am getting lean and sinewy# but maybe not. 0ast
night# time and my body decided to ta$e me to the movies. I saw The -mbrellas of
.herbourg# which I too$ very hard. <o an unmoored# middleGaged man li$e myself# it
was heartGbrea$ing. <hats all right. I li$e to have my heart bro$en.
(H
Jack Kerouacs List of 30 Beliefs an Techni!ues for
"rose an Life
%o fear or shame in the dignity of yr e/perience, language 0 knowledge.
In the year of reading more and writing better# weve absorbed Da#i $%il#ys (' noG
bullshit tips# Henry Millers (( commandments# John &tein'ecks : pointers# and
various invaluable advice from other great writers. Iow comes Jack Kerouac cultural
icon# symbolism sage# e+%uisite idealist with his >'Gpoint list# entitled ,elief and
Techni1ue for 2odern Prose. =ith items li$e LIo fear or shame in the dignity of yr
e+perience# language T $nowledgeM and L1ccept loss forever#M the list is as much a
blueprint for writing as it is a meditation on life.
(. Scribbled secret noteboo$s# and wild typewritten pages# for yr own oy
&. Submissive to everything# open# listening
>. <ry never get drun$ outside yr own house
3. "e in love with yr life
4. Something that you feel will find its own form
:. "e crazy dumbsaint of the mind
H. "low as deep as you want to blow
;. =rite what you want bottomless from bottom of the mind
9. <he unspea$able visions of the individual
('. Io time for poetry but e+actly what is
((. Visionary tics shivering in the chest
(&. In tranced fi+ation dreaming upon obect before you
(>. !emove literary# grammatical and syntactical inhibition
(3. 0i$e Droust be an old teahead of time
(4. <elling the true story of the world in interior monolog
(:. <he ewel center of interest is the eye within the eye
(H. =rite in recollection and amazement for yourself
(;. =or$ from pithy middle eye out# swimming in language sea
(9. 1ccept loss forever
&'. "elieve in the holy contour of life
&(. Struggle to s$etch the flow that already e+ists intact in mind
&&. 8ont thin$ of words when you stop but to see picture better
&>. Keep trac$ of every day the date emblazoned in yr morning
&3. Io fear or shame in the dignity of yr e+perience# language T $nowledge
&4. =rite for the world to read and see yr e+act pictures of it
(;
&:. "oo$movie is the movie in words# the visual 1merican form
&H. In praise of 6haracter in the "lea$ inhuman 0oneliness
&;. 6omposing wild# undisciplined# pure# coming in from under# crazier the better
&9. Noure a ,enius all the time
>'. =riterG8irector of Earthly movies Sponsored T 1ngeled in Aeaven
<he list was allegedly tac$ed on the wall of 1llen ,insbergs hotel room in Iorth "each
a year before his iconic poem LAowlM was written which is of little surprise# given
,insberg readily admitted Kerouacs influence and even noted in the dedication of 'owl
and 3ther Poems that he too$ the title from Kerouac.
1s 6harles Eames might say# Lto be realistic one must always admit the influence of
those who have gone before.M
(0 Ti)s on Writin% from Da#i $%il#y
4ood writing is not a natural gift. 5ou have to learn to write well. 'ere are 6 hints.
Aow is your new years resolution to read more and write better holding upC 1fter tracing
the fascinating story of the most influential writing style guide of all time and absorbing
advice on writing from some of modern historys most legendary writers# here comes
some priceless and pricelessly uncompromising wisdom from a very different $ind of
cultural legend) iconic businessman and original L*ad *anM 8avid ?gilvy. ?n
September Hth# (9;&# ?gilvy sent the following internal memo to all agency employees#
titled LAow to =riteM and found in the (9;: gem The Unpublished David Ogilvy @public
libraryB)
<he better you write# the higher you go in ?gilvy T *ather. Deople who thin$ well# write
well.
=oolly minded people write woolly memos# woolly letters and woolly speeches.
,ood writing is not a natural gift. Nou have to learn to write well. Aere are (' hints)
(. !ead the !omanG!aphaelson boo$ on writing. !ead it three times.
&. =rite the way you tal$. Iaturally.
>. 5se short words# short sentences and short paragraphs.
(9
3. Iever use argon words li$e reconceptuali(e# demassification# attitudinally#
7udgmentally. <hey are hallmar$s of a pretentious ass.
4. Iever write more than two pages on any subect.
:. 6hec$ your %uotations.
H. Iever send a letter or a memo on the day you write it. !ead it aloud the ne+t
morning and then edit it.
;. If it is something important# get a colleague to improve it.
9. "efore you send your letter or your memo# ma$e sure it is crystal clear what you
want the recipient to do.
('. If you want 16<I?I# dont write. ,o and tell the guy what you want.
8avid
<his# and much more of ?gilvys timeless advice# can be found in The Unpublished
David Ogilvy# a fine addition to this ongoing archive of notable wisdom on writing. <he
boo$ is long out of print# but you can still find a used copy by rummaging through
1mazons stoc$ or the library stac$s.
&i* Ti)s on Writin% from John &tein'eck
3n the value of unconscious association, or why the best advice is no advice.
If this is indeed the year of reading more and writing better# weve been right on course
with 8avid ?gilvys (' noGbullshit tips# Aenry *illers (( commandments# and various
invaluable advice from other great writers. Iow comes John &tein'eck Dulitzer Drize
winner# Iobel laureate# love guru with si+ tips on writing# culled from his altogether
e+cellent interview it the 2all (9H4 issue of The Paris Review.
(. 1bandon the idea that you are ever going to finish. 0ose trac$ of the 3'' pages
and write ust one page for each day# it helps. <hen when it gets finished# you are
always surprised.
&. =rite freely and as rapidly as possible and throw the whole thing on paper. Iever
correct or rewrite until the whole thing is down. !ewrite in process is usually
found to be an e+cuse for not going on. It also interferes with flow and rhythm
which can only come from a $ind of unconscious association with the material.
&'
>. 2orget your generalized audience. In the first place# the nameless# faceless
audience will scare you to death and in the second place# unli$e the theater# it
doesnt e+ist. In writing# your audience is one single reader. I have found that
sometimes it helps to pic$ out one persona real person you $now# or an
imagined person and write to that one.
3. If a scene or a section gets the better of you and you still thin$ you want it
bypass it and go on. =hen you have finished the whole you can come bac$ to it
and then you may find that the reason it gave trouble is because it didnt belong
there.
4. "eware of a scene that becomes too dear to you# dearer than the rest. It will
usually be found that it is out of drawing.
:. If you are using dialoguesay it aloud as you write it. ?nly then will it have the
sound of speech.
"ut perhaps most parado+ically yet poetically# twelve years prior in (9:>#
immediately after receiving the Iobel Drize in 0iterature Lfor his realistic and
imaginative writings# combining as they do sympathetic humour and $een social
perceptionM Steinbec$ issued a thoughtful disclaimer to all such advice)
If there is a magic in story writing# and I am convinced there is# no one has ever been able
to reduce it to a recipe that can be passed from one person to another. <he formula seems
to lie solely in the aching urge of the writer to convey something he feels important to the
reader. If the writer has that urge# he may sometimes# but by no means always# find the
way to do it. Nou must perceive the e+cellence that ma$es a good story good or the errors
that ma$es a bad story. 2or a bad story is only an ineffective story.M
&(
Henry Millers (( +ommanments of Writin% an Daily
+reati#e Routine
8hen you can9t create you can work.
1fter 8avid ?gilvys wildly popular (' tips on writing and a selection of advice from
modernitys greatest writers# here comes some from iconic writer and painter Aenry
*iller.
In (9>&G(9>># while wor$ing on what would become his first published novel# Tropic of
.ancer# *iller devised and adhered to a stringent daily routine to propel his writing.
1mong it was this list of eleven commandments# found in Henry Miller on Writing a
fine addition to these 9 essential boo$s on reading and writing# part of this years
resolution to read more and write better.
&&
6?**1I8*EI<S
(. =or$ on one thing at a time until finished.
&. Start no more new boo$s# add no more new material to F"lac$ Spring.
>. 8ont be nervous. =or$ calmly# oyously# rec$lessly on whatever is in hand.
3. =or$ according to Drogram and not according to mood. Stop at the appointed
timeK
&>
4. =hen you cant create you can work.
:. 6ement a little every day# rather than add new fertilizers.
H. Keep humanK See people# go places# drin$ if you feel li$e it.
;. 8ont be a draughtGhorseK =or$ with pleasure only.
9. 8iscard the Drogram when you feel li$e itbut go bac$ to it ne+t day.
.oncentrate. %arrow down. :/clude.
('. 2orget the boo$s you want to write. <hin$ only of the boo$ you are writing.
((. =rite first and always. Dainting# music# friends# cinema# all these come
afterwards.
5nder a part titled $aily Program# his routine also featured the following wonderful
blueprint for productivity# inspiration# and mental health)
&3
*?!III,S)
If groggy# type notes and allocate# as stimulus.
If in fine fettle# write.
12<E!I??IS)
=or$ of section in hand# following plan of section scrupulously. Io intrusions# no
diversions. =rite to finish one section at a time# for good and all.
EVEIII,S)
See friends. !ead in cafJs.
E+plore unfamiliar sections on foot if wet# on bicycle if dry.
=rite# if in mood# but only on *inor program.
Daint if empty or tired.
*a$e Iotes. *a$e 6harts# Dlans. *a$e corrections of *S.
%ote& 1llow sufficient time during daylight to ma$e an occasional visit to museums or an
occasional s$etch or an occasional bi$e ride. S$etch in cafJs and trains and streets. 6ut
the moviesK 0ibrary for references once a wee$.
Kurt ,onne%uts - Ti)s on Ho. to Write a /reat &tory
8rite to please 7ust one person. +f you open a window and make love to the world, so to
speak, your story will get pneumonia.
<he year of reading more and writing better is well underway with writing advice the
li$es of Da#i $%il#ys (' noGbullshit tips# Henry Millers (( commandments# Jack
Kerouacs >' beliefs and techni%ues# John &tein'ecks : pointers# and various
invaluable insight from other great writers. Iow comes Kurt ,onne%ut anarchist#
Second 0ife dweller# imaginary interviewer of the dead# sad soul with eight tips on
how to write a good short story# narrated by the author himself.
&4
(. 5se the time of a total stranger in such a way that he or she will not feel the time
was wasted.
&. ,ive the reader at least one character he or she can root for.
>. Every character should want something# even if it is only a glass of water.
3. Every sentence must do one of two things reveal character or advance the
action.
4. Start as close to the end as possible.
:. "e a Sadist. Io matter how sweet and innocent your leading characters# ma$e
awful things happen to themGin order that the reader may see what they are made
of.
H. =rite to please ust one person. If you open a window and ma$e love to the
world# so to spea$# your story will get pneumonia.
;. ,ive your readers as much information as possible as soon as possible. <o hell
with suspense. !eaders should have such complete understanding of what is going
on# where and why# that they could finish the story themselves# should
coc$roaches eat the last few pages.
&usan &onta% on Writin%
There is a great deal that either has to be given up or be taken away from you if you are
going to succeed in writing a body of work.
<he newly released volume of Susan Sontags diaries# As Consciousness Is Harnessed
to Flesh: ournals and !oteboo"s# $%&'($%)* @public libraryB# from whence Sontags
thoughtful meditations on censorship and aphorisms came# is an absolute treasure trove
of rare insight into one of the greatest minds in modern history. 1mong the tomes
greatest gifts are Sontags thoughts on the art# craft# and ideology of writing.
5nli$e more prescriptive ta$es# li$e previously e+amined advice by Kurt Vonnegut# 7ohn
Steinbec$# and 8avid ?gilvy# Sontags reflections are rather meditative sometimes
turned inward# with introspective curiosity# and other times outward# with a lens on the
broader literary landscape yet remar$ably rich in cultural observation and universal
wisdom on the writing process# somewhere between Aenry *illers creative routine# 7ac$
Kerouacs beliefs and techni%ues# ,eorge ?rwells four motives for writing# and E. ".
=hites vision for the responsibility of the writer.
,athered here are the most compelling and profound of Sontags thoughts on writing#
arranged chronologically and each mar$ed with the date of the respective diary entry.
&:
I have a wider range as a human being than as a writer. @=ith some writers# its the
opposite.B ?nly a fraction of me is available to be turned into art.
@;S;S:3B
=ords have their own firmness. <he word on the page may not reveal @may concealB the
flabbiness of the mind that conceived it. U 1ll thoughts are upgrades get more clarity#
definition# authority# by being in print that is# detached from the person who thin$s
them.
1 potential fraud at least potential in all writing.
@;S&'S:3B
=riting is a little door. Some fantasies# li$e big pieces of furniture# wont come through.
@;S>'S:3B
If only I could feel about se+ as I do about writingK <hat Im the vehicle# the medium# the
instrument of some force beyond myself.
@((S(S:3B
&H
Science fiction
Dopular mythology for contemporary negative imagination about the impersonal
@((S(S:3B
,reatest subect) self see$ing to transcend itself @2iddlemarch# 8ar and PeaceB
0oo$ing for selfGtranscendence @or metamorphosisB the cloud of un$nowing that
allows perfect e+pressiveness @a secular myth for thisB
@undated loose sheets# (9:4B
Kaf$a the last storyGteller in Fserious literature. Iobody has $nown where to go from
there @e+cept imitate himB
@undated loose sheets# (9:4B
7ohn 8ewey F<he ultimate function of literature is to appreciate the world# sometimes
indignantly# sometimes sorrowfully# but best of all to praise when it is luc$ily possible.
@(S&4S:4B
I thin$ I am ready to learn how to write. <hin$ with words# not with ideas.
@>S4SH'B
F=riting is only a substitute -sic/ for living. 2lorence Iightingale
@(&S(;SH'B
2rench# unli$e English) a language that tends to brea$ when you bend it.
@:S&(SH&B
1 writer# li$e an athlete# must Ftrain every day. =hat did I do today to $eep in FformC
@HS4SH&B
In Flife# I dont want to be reduced to my wor$. In Fwor$# I dont want to be reduced to
my life.
*y wor$ is too austere
*y life is a brutal anecdote
@>S(4SH>B
<he only story that seems worth writing is a cry# a shot# a scream. 1 story should brea$
the readers heart
-./
<he story must stri$e a nerve in me. *y heart should start pounding when I hear the
first line in my head. I start trembling at the ris$.
@:S&HSH>B
Im now writing out of rage and I feel a $ind of Iietzschean elation. Its tonic. I roar
with laughter. I want to denounce everybody# tell everybody off. I go to my typewriter as
&;
I might go to my machine gun. "ut Im safe. I dont have to face the conse%uences of
Freal aggressivity. Im sending out colis piJgJs -Vbooby*trapped packagesV/ to the world.
@HS>(SH>B
<he solution to a problem a story that you are unable to finish is the problem. It
isnt as if the problem is one thing and the solution something else. <he problem#
properly understood W the solution. Instead of trying to hide or efface what limits the
story# capitalize on that very limitation. State it# rail against it.
@HS>(SH>B
<al$ing li$e touching
=riting li$e punching somebody
@;S(3SH>B
<o be a great writer)
$now everything about adectives and punctuation @rhythmB
have moral intelligence which creates true authority in a writer
@&S:SH3B
FIdea as method of instant transport away from direct e+perience# carrying a tiny
suitcase.
FIdea as a means of miniaturizing e+perience# rendering it portable. Someone who
regularly has ideas is by definition homeless.
Intellectual is a refugee from e+perience. In 8iaspora.
=hats wrong with direct e+perienceC =hy would one ever want to flee it# by
transforming it into a bric$C
@HS&4SH3B
=ea$ness of 1merican poetry its antiGintellectual. ,reat poetry has ideas.
@:S(3SH:B
Iot only must I summon the courage to be a bad writer I must dare to be truly
unhappy. 8esperate. 1nd not save myself# shortGcircuit the despair.
"y refusing to be as unhappy as I truly am# I deprive myself of subects. Ive nothing to
write about. Every topic burns.
@:S(9SH:B
<he function of writing is to e+plode ones subect transform it into something else.
@=riting is a series of transformations.B
&9
=riting means converting ones liabilities @limitationsB into advantages. 2or e+ample# I
dont love what Im writing. ?$ay# then thats also a way to write# a way that can
produce interesting results.
@((S4SH:B
F1ll art aspires to the condition of music this utterly nihilistic statement rests at the
foundation of every moving camera style in the history of the medium. "ut it is a clichJ#
a (9th c-entury/ clichJ# less an aesthetic than a proection of an e+hausted state of mind#
less a world view than a world weariness# less a statement of vital forms than an
e+pression of sterile decadence. <here is %uite another pov -point of view/ about what Fall
art aspires to that was ,oethes# who put the primary art# the most aristocratic one# X
the one art that cannot be made by the plebes but only gaped at w-ith/ awe# X that art is
architecture. !eally great directors have this sense of architecture in their wor$ always
e+pressive of immense line of energy# unstable X vital conduits of force.
@undated# (9HHB
?ne can never be alone enough to write. <o see better.
@HS(9SHHB
<wo $inds of writers. <hose who thin$ this life is all there is# and want to describe
everything) the fall# the battle# the accouchement# the horseGrace. <hat is# <olstoy. 1nd
those who thin$ this life is a $ind of testingGground @for what we dont $now to see
how much pleasure X pain we can bear or what pleasure X pain areCB and want to describe
only the essentials. <hat is# 8ostoyevs$y. <he two alternatives. Aow can one write li$e <.
after 8.C <he tas$ is to be as good as 8. as serious spiritually# X then go on from there.
@(&S3SHHB
?nly thing that counts are ideas. "ehind ideas are -moral/ principles. Either one is serious
or one is not. *ust be prepared to ma$e sacrifices. Im not a liberal.
@(&S3SHHB
=hen there is no censorship the writer has no importance.
So its not so simple to be against censorship.
@(&SHSHHB
Imagination) having many voices in ones head. <he freedom for that.
@4S&HSH;B
0anguage as a found obect
@&S(SH9B
0ast novelist to be influenced by# $nowledgeable about science was -1ldous/ Au+ley
?ne reason -there are/ no more novels <here are no e+citing theories of relation of
society to self @soc-iological/# historical# philosophicalB
>'
Iot S? no one is doing it# thats all
@undated# *arch (9H9B
<here is a great deal that either has to be given up or be ta$en away from you if you are
going to succeed in writing a body of wor$
@undated# *arch (9H9B
<o write one must wear blin$ers. Ive lost my blin$ers.
8ont be afraid to be conciseK
@>S('SH9B
1 failure of nerve. 1bout writing. @1nd about my life but never mind.B I must write
myself out of it.
If I am not able to write because Im afraid of being a bad writer# then I must be a bad
writer. 1t least Ill be writing.
<hen something else will happen. It always does.
I must write every day. 1nything. Everything. 6arry a noteboo$ with me at all times# etc.
I read my bad reviews. I want to go to the bottom of it this failure of nerve
@HS(9SH9B
<he writer does not have to write. She must imagine that she must. 1 great boo$) no one
is addressed# it counts as cultural surplus# it comes from the will.
@>S('S;'B
?rdinary language is an accretion of lies. <he language of literature must be# therefore#
the language of transgression# a rupture of individual systems# a shattering of psychic
oppression. <he only function of literature lies in the uncovering of the self in history.
@>S(4S;'B
<he love of boo$s. *y library is an archive of longings.
@3S&:S;'B
*a$ing lists of words# to thic$en my active vocabulary. <o have puny# not ust little#
hoa+# not ust tric$# mortifying# not ust embarrassing# bogus# not ust fa$e.
I could ma$e a story out of puny# hoa+# mortifying# bogus. <hey are a story.
@3S>'S;'B
Joy Williams on Why Writers Write
>(
A writer loves the dark, loves it, but is always fumbling around in the light.
=hy do writers writeC Some of literary historys most famous and timeless answers have
come from ,eorge ?rwell# 7oan 8idion# Susan Sontag# and 6harles "u$ows$i. In her
beautiful essay 01ncanny &in%in% That +omes from +ertain Husks23 published in the
(99; anthology Why I Write: Thoughts on the Cra+t o+ Fiction @public libraryB# Joy
Williams considers the impetus for writing with e%ual parts insight# irreverence# and that
blend of anguishing ambivalence and convulsive conviction so characteristic of the
writers mind.
Its become fashionable these days to say that the writer writes because he is not whole#
he has a wound# he writes to heal it# but who cares if the writer is not whole# of course the
writer is not whole# or even particularly well. <here is something unwholesome and
destructive about the entire writing process. =riters are li$e eremites or anchorites
naturalGborn eremites or anchorites who seem puzzled as to why they went up the pole
or into the cave in the first place. =hy am I so isolate in this strange placeC =hy is my
sweat being sold as eli+irC 1nd how have I become so enmeshed with wor$s# mere
wor$s# phantomsC
-./
1 writer starts out# I thin$# wanting to be a transfiguring agent# and ends up usually ust
ma$ing contact# contact with other human beings. <his# unsurprisingly# is not enough.
@*a$ing contact with the self healing the wound is even less satisfactory.B =riters
end up writing stories or rather# stories shadows and theyre grateful if they can
but it is not enough. Iothing the writer can do is ever enough.
She considers the generative power of awareness)
<he significant story possesses more awareness than the writer writing it. <he significant
story is always greater than the writer writing it. <his is the absurdity# the disorienting
truth# the %uestion that is not even a %uestion# this is the $oan of writing.
-./
1 writers awareness must never be inade%uate. Still# it will never be ade%uate to the
greater awareness of the wor$ itself# the wor$ that the writer is trying to write. <he writer
must not really $now what he is $nowing# what he is learning to $now when he writes#
which is more than the $nowing of it. 1 writer loves the dar$# loves it# but is always
fumbling around in the light. <he writer is separate from his wor$ but thats all the writer
is what he writes. 1 writer must be smart but not too smart. Ae must be dumb enough
to brea$ himself to harness.
>&
?n complacency)
<he moment a writer $nows how to achieve a certain effect# the method must be
abandoned. Effects repeated become false# mannered. <he writers style is his
doppelgYnger# an apparition that the writer must never trust to do his wor$ for him.
!ecounting critical reactions to some of her essays# =illiams offers)
"ut a writer isnt supposed to ma$e friends with his writing# I dont thin$.
?n language# and the metaphor from which the essay title comes)
0anguage accepts the writer as its host# it feeds off the writer# it ma$es him a hus$. <here
is something uncanny about good writing uncanny the singing that comes from certain
hus$s. <he writer is never nourished by his own wor$# it is never satisfying to him. <he
wor$ is a stranger# it shuns him a little# for the writer is really something of a fool# so
engaged in his disengagement# so selfGconscious# so eager to serve something greater#
which is the writing. ?r which could be the writing if only the writer is good enough. <he
wor$ stands a little apart from the writer# it doesnt want to go down with him when he
stumbles or fails to retreat. <he writer must do all this alone# in secret# in drudgery# in
confusion# aw$wardly# one word at a time.
-./
<he good piece of writing startles the reader bac$ into 0ife. <he wor$ this ?ther# this
other thing this false life that is even less than the seeming of this lived life# is more
than the lived life# too. It is so unreal# so precise# so unsurprising# so alarming# really.
,ood writing never soothes or comforts. It is no prescription# either is it diversionary#
although it can and should enchant while it e+plodes in the readers face. =henever the
writer writes# its always three ocloc$ in the morning# its always three or four or five
ocloc$ in the morning in his head. <hose horrid hours are the writers days and nights
when he is writing. <he writer doesnt write for the reader. Ae doesnt write for himself#
either. Ae writes to serve.something. Somethingness. <he somethingness that is
sheltered by the wings of nothingness those e+%uisite# enveloping# protecting wings.
=illiams ends with a direct yet wonderfully poetic answer)
=hy does the writer writeC <he writer writes to serve hopelessly he writes in the hope
that he might serve not himself and not others# but that great cold elemental grace
which $nows us.
1 writer I very much admire is 8on 8e0illo. 1t an awards ceremony for him at the
2olger 0ibrary several years ago# I said that he was li$e a great shar$ moving hidden in
our midst# beneath the din and wrec$ of the moment# at apocalyptic ease in the very
elements of our psyche and times that are most troublesome to us# that we most fear.
>>
=hy do I writeC "ecause I wanna be a great shar$ too. 1nother shar$. 1 different shar$#
in a different part of the ocean. <he ocean is vast.
+harles Buko.ski Reas His 0Frienly 4#ice to a Lot
of 5oun% Men23 "lus Buk on +reati#ity
The crowd is the gathering place of the weakest; true creation is a solitary act.
6harles "u$ows$i remains a poet e+%uisitely emblematic of the inherent contradictions
of the human spirit a man of unabashed profanity and selfGconscious sensitivity# of
tragic cynicism and heartening insight on the meaning of life and the spirit of writing. It
is with this lens of his propensity for e+aggerated e+istential e+tremism underpinned by a
desire to live well that we are to consider "u$ows$is (94H poem 0Frienly 4#ice to a
Lot of 5oun% Men23 found in the anthology The ,oo-inghouse Madrigals: .arly
/elected 0oe-s $%'&($%&& @public libraryB. In this rare recording# the poem springs to
irreverent life as "u$ reads it himself)
FR678DL5 4D,6+7 T$ 4 L$T $F 5$18/ M78
,o to <ibet
!ide a camel.
!ead the bible.
8ye your shoes blue.
,row a beard.
6ircle the world in a paper canoe.
Subscribe to The <aturday :vening Post.
6hew on the left side of your mouth only.
*arry a woman with one leg and shave with a straight razor.
1nd carve your name in her arm.
"rush your teeth with gasoline.
Sleep all day and climb trees at night.
"e a mon$ and drin$ buc$shot and beer.
Aold your head under water and play the violin.
>3
8o a belly dance before pin$ candles.
Kill your dog.
!un for mayor.
0ive in a barrel.
"rea$ your head with a hatchet.
Dlant tulips in the rain.
"ut dont write poetry.
In an interview found in the altogether fantastic /unlight Here I A-: Intervie1s and
.ncounters $%&2($%%2 @public libraryB# "u$ows$i unpac$s the poem# echoes 1pple coG
founder Steve =oznia$s admonition that creativity re%uires solitude and Aemingways
Iobel speech lament that Lwriting# at its best# is a lonely lifeM)
3our poe- 4+riendly advice to a lot o+ young -en5 says that one is better o++ living in a
barrel than he is 1riting poetry6 Would you give the sa-e advice today7
I guess what I meant is that you are better off doing nothing than doing something badly.
"ut the problem is that bad writers tend to have the selfGconfidence# while the good ones
tend to have selfGdoubt. So the bad writers tend to go on and on writing crap and giving
as many readings as possible to sparse audiences. <hese sparse audiences consist mostly
of other bad writers waiting their turn to go on# to get up there and let it out in the ne+t
hour# the ne+t wee$# the ne+t month# the ne+t sometime. <he feeling at these readings is
murderous# airless# antiGlife. =hen failures gather together in an attempt at selfG
congratulation# it only leads to a deeper and more# abiding failure. <he crowd is the
gathering place of the wea$estE true creation is a solitary act.
7lmore Leonars (0 Rules of Writin%
+f it sounds like writing = rewrite it.
?n 7uly (:# &''(# 7lmore Leonar @?ctober ((# (9&4Z1ugust &'# &'(>B made his
timeless contribution to the metaGliterary canon in a short piece for The %ew 5ork Times#
outlining his ten rules of writing. <he essay# which inspired the 4uardian series that gave
us similar lists of writing rules by [adie Smith# *argaret 1twood# and Ieil ,aiman# was
eventually adapted into .l-ore 8eonard9s $* ,ules o+ Writing @public libraryB a slim#
>4
beautifully typeset boo$# with illustrations by 7oe 6iardiello accompanying 0eonards
timeless rules.
Ae prefaces the list with a short disclaimer of sorts)
<hese are rules Ive pic$ed up along the way to help me remain invisible when Im
writing a boo$# to help me show rather than tell whats ta$ing place in the story. If you
have a facility for language and imagery and the sound of your voice pleases you#
invisibility is not what you are after# and you can s$ip the rules. Still# you might loo$
them over.
>:
0eonard then goes on to lay out the ten commandments# infused with his signature blend
of humor# humility# and uncompromising discernment)
(. 8e#er o)en a 'ook .ith .eather9
If its only to create atmosphere# and not a characters reaction to the weather# you
dont want to go on too long. <he reader is apt to leaf ahead loo$ing for people.
<here are e+ceptions. If you happen to be "arry 0opez# who has more ways to
describe ice and snow than an Es$imo# you can do all the weather reporting you
want.
&. 4#oi )rolo%ues9
<hey can be annoying# especially a prologue following an introduction that comes
after a foreword. "ut these are ordinarily found in nonfiction. 1 prologue in a
novel is bac$story# and you can drop it in anywhere you want.
<here is a prologue in 7ohn Steinbec$s <weet Thursday# but its ?.K. because a
character in the boo$ ma$es the point of what my rules are all about. Ae says) LI
li$e a lot of tal$ in a boo$ and I dont li$e to have nobody tell me what the guy
thats tal$ing loo$s li$e. I want to figure out what he loo$s li$e from the way he
tal$s. . . . figure out what the guys thin$ing from what he says. I li$e some
description but not too much of that. . . . Sometimes I want a boo$ to brea$ loose
with a bunch of hooptedoodle. . . . Spin up some pretty words maybe or sing a
little song with language. <hats nice. "ut I wish it was set aside so I dont have to
read it. I dont want hooptedoodle to get mi+ed up with the story.M
>. 8e#er use a #er' other than 0sai3 to carry ialo%ue9
<he line of dialogue belongs to the characterE the verb is the writer stic$ing his
nose in. "ut said is far less intrusive than grumbled# gasped# cautioned# lied. I
once noticed *ary *c6arthy ending a line of dialogue with Lshe asseverated#M
and had to stop reading to get the dictionary.
3. 8e#er use an a#er' to moify the #er' 0sai3 :
.he admonished gravely. <o use an adverb this way @or almost any wayB is a
mortal sin. <he writer is now e+posing himself in earnest# using a word that
distracts and can interrupt the rhythm of the e+change. I have a character in one of
my boo$s tell how she used to write historical romances Lfull of rape and
adverbs.M
4. Kee) your e*clamation )oints uner control9
>H
Nou are allowed no more than two or three per (''#''' words of prose. If you
have the $nac$ of playing with e+claimers the way <om =olfe does# you can
throw them in by the handful.
:. 8e#er use the .ors 0suenly3 or 0all hell 'roke loose93
<his rule doesnt re%uire an e+planation. I have noticed that writers who use
LsuddenlyM tend to e+ercise less control in the application of e+clamation points.
H. 1se re%ional ialect2 )atois2 s)arin%ly9
?nce you start spelling words in dialogue phonetically and loading the page with
apostrophes# you wont be able to stop. Iotice the way 1nnie Droul+ captures the
flavor of =yoming voices in her boo$ of short stories .lose Range.
;. 4#oi etaile escri)tions of characters9
=hich Steinbec$ covered. In Ernest Aemingways 'ills >ike 8hite :lephants
what do the L1merican and the girl with himM loo$ li$eC LShe had ta$en off her
hat and put it on the table.M <hats the only reference to a physical description in
the story# and yet we see the couple and $now them by their tones of voice# with
not one adverb in sight.
9. Dont %o into %reat etail escri'in% )laces an thin%s9
5nless youre *argaret 1twood and can paint scenes with language or write
landscapes in the style of 7im Aarrison. "ut even if youre good at it# you dont
want descriptions that bring the action# the flow of the story# to a standstill.
1nd finally)
('. Try to lea#e out the )art that reaers ten to ski)9
1 rule that came to mind in (9;>. <hin$ of what you s$ip reading a novel) thic$
paragraphs of prose you can see have too many words in them. =hat the writer is
doing# hes writing# perpetrating hooptedoodle# perhaps ta$ing another shot at the
weather# or has gone into the characters head# and the reader either $nows what
the guys thin$ing or doesnt care. Ill bet you dont s$ip dialogue.
*y most important rule is one that sums up the ('.
6f it souns like .ritin%2 6 re.rite it9
?r# if proper usage gets in the way# it may have to go. I cant allow what we
learned in English composition to disrupt the sound and rhythm of the narrative.
Its my attempt to remain invisible# not distract the reader from the story with
>;
obvious writing. @7oseph 6onrad said something about words getting in the way
of what you want to say.B
If I write in scenes and always from the point of view of a particular character
the one whose view best brings the scene to life Im able to concentrate on the
voices of the characters telling you who they are and how they feel about what
they see and whats going on# and Im nowhere in sight.
=hat Steinbec$ did in <weet Thursday was title his chapters as an indication#
though obscure# of what they cover. L=hom the ,ods 0ove <hey 8rive IutsM is
one# L0ousy =ednesdayM another. <he third chapter is titled LAooptedoodle (\
and the >;th chapter LAooptedoodle &\ as warnings to the reader# as if Steinbec$
is saying) LAeres where youll see me ta$ing flights of fancy with my writing#
and it wont get in the way of the story. S$ip them if you want.M
<weet Thursday came out in (943# when I was ust beginning to be published# and
Ive never forgotten that prologue.
8id I read the hooptedoodle chaptersC Every word.
>9
Mar%aret 4t.oos (0 Rules of Writin%
3'
$o back e/ercises. Pain is distracting.
In the winter of &'('# inspired by Elmore 0eonards (' rules of writing originally
published in The %ew 5ork Times nearly a decade earlier# The 4uardian as$ed some of
todays most celebrated authors to each produce a list of personal writing
commandments. 1fter (' from [adie Smith and ; from Ieil ,aiman# here comes
*argaret 1twood with her denary decree)
(. <a$e a pencil to write with on aeroplanes. Dens lea$. "ut if the pencil brea$s# you
cant sharpen it on the plane# because you cant ta$e $nives with you. <herefore)
ta$e two pencils.
&. If both pencils brea$# you can do a rough sharpening ob with a nail file of the
metal or glass type.
>. <a$e something to write on. Daper is good. In a pinch# pieces of wood or your arm
will do.
3. If youre using a computer# always safeguard new te+t with a memory stic$.
4. 8o bac$ e+ercises. Dain is distracting.
:. Aold the readers attention. @<his is li$ely to wor$ better if you can hold your
own.B "ut you dont $now who the reader is# so its li$e shooting fish with a
slingshot in the dar$. =hat fascinates 1 will bore the pants off ".
H. Nou most li$ely need a thesaurus# a rudimentary grammar boo$# and a grip on
reality. <his latter means) theres no free lunch. =riting is wor$. Its also
3(
gambling. Nou dont get a pension plan. ?ther people can help you a bit# but G
essentially youre on your own. Iobody is ma$ing you do this) you chose it# so
dont whine.
;. Nou can never read your own boo$ with the innocent anticipation that comes with
that first delicious page of a new boo$# because you wrote the thing. Nouve been
bac$stage. Nouve seen how the rabbits were smuggled into the hat. <herefore as$
a reading friend or two to loo$ at it before you give it to anyone in the publishing
business. <his friend should not be someone with whom you have a romantic
relationship# unless you want to brea$ up.
9. 8ont sit down in the middle of the woods. If youre lost in the plot or bloc$ed#
retrace your steps to where you went wrong. <hen ta$e the other road. 1ndSor
change the person. 6hange the tense. 6hange the opening page.
('. Drayer might wor$. ?r reading something else. ?r a constant visualization of the
holy grail that is the finished# published version of your resplendent boo$.

3&
Famous 4#ice on Writin%; The +ollecte Wisom of
/reat Writers
?it(gerald, 'emingway, $idion, <ontag, @onnegut, ,radbury, 3rwell, and other literary
icons.
"y popular demand# Ive put together a periodically updated
reading list of all the famous advice on writing presented
here over the years# featuring words of wisdom from such
masters of the craft as Kurt Vonnegut# Susan Sontag# Aenry
*iller# Stephen King# 2. Scott 2itzgerald# Susan ?rlean#
Ernest Aemingway# [adie Smith# and more.
Dlease enoy. @If youre unable to scroll within the embed
below# open the full reading list in a new window.B
Ray Bra'ury on Ho. List<Makin% +an Boost 5our
+reati#ity
'ow to feel your way toward something honest, hidden under the trapdoor on the top of
your skull.
Susan Sontag argued that lists confer value and guarantee our e+istence. 5mberto Eco
saw in them Lthe origin of culture.M "ut lists# it turns out# might be a remar$ably potent
tool for ostling the muse into manifesting a powerful trigger for that stage of
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unconscious processing so central to the creative process# where our mindGwandering
ma$es magic happen.
In :en in the Art o+ Writing @public libraryB# one of these ten essential boo$s on writing#
!ay "radbury describes an unusual creative prompt he employed in his early twenties)
Ae began ma$ing long lists of nouns as triggers for ideas and potential titles for stories)
<hese lists were the provocations# finally# that caused my better stuff to surface. I was
feeling my way toward something honest# hidden under the trapdoor on the top of my
s$ull.
<he lists ran something li$e this)
<AE 01KE. <AE II,A<. <AE 6!I6KE<S. <AE !1VIIE. <AE 1<<I6. <AE
"1SE*EI<. <AE <!1D8??!. <AE "1"N. <AE 6!?=8. <AE II,A< <!1II.
<AE 2?, A?!I. <AE S6N<AE. <AE 61!IIV10. <AE 61!?5SE0. <AE 8=1!2.
<AE *I!!?! *1[E. <AE SKE0E<?I.
"radbury would later come to articulate his conviction that the intuitive mind is what
drives great writing# but it was through these lists that he intuited the vital patternG
recognition machinery that fuels creativity. Echoing Einsteins notion of Lcombinatory
play#M "radbury considers the true value of his listGma$ing)
I was beginning to see a pattern in the list# in these words that I had simply flung forth on
paper# trusting my subconscious to give bread# as it were# to the birds. ,lancing over the
list# I discovered my old love and fright having to do with circuses and carnivals. I
remembered# and then forgot# and then remembered again# how terrified I had been when
my mother too$ me for my first ride on a merryGgoGround. =ith the calliope screaming
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and the world spinning and the terrible horses leaping# I added my shrie$s to the din. I did
not go near the carousel again for years. =hen I really did# decades later# it rode me into
the midst of <omething 8icked This 8ay .omes.
So he went on ma$ing lists# hoping theyd spar$ these fruitful associations that the
rational mind tuc$s away in the cabinets of Luseless $nowledgeM)
<AE *E18?=. <AE <?N 6AES<. <AE *?IS<E!. <N!1II?S15!5S !E].
<AE <?=I 60?6K. <AE ?08 *1I. <AE ?08 =?*1I. <AE <E0EDA?IE. <AE
SI8E=10KS. <AE 6?22II. <AE E0E6<!I6 6A1I!. <AE *1,I6I1I.
?ut on the margin of these nouns# I blundered into a science fiction story that was not a
scienceGfiction story. *y title was L! is for !oc$et.M <he published title was LKing of the
,rey Spaces#M the story of two boys# great friends# one elected to go off to the Space
1cademy# the other staying home.
"radbury# who has since shared timeless wisdom on withstanding the storm of reection#
recalls)
<he tale was reected by every scienceGfiction magazine because# after all# it was only a
story about friendship being tested by circumstance# even though the circumstance was
space travel. *ary ,naedinger# at ?amous ?antastic 2ysteries# too$ one loo$ at my story
and published it. "ut# again# I was too young to see that L! is 2or !oc$etM would be the
$ind of story that would ma$e me as a scienceGfiction writer# admired by some# and
criticized by many who observed that I was no writer of science fictions# I was a LpeopleM
writer# and to hell with thatK
I went on ma$ing lists# having to do not only with night# nightmares# dar$ness# and
obects in attics# but the toys that men play with in space# and the ideas I found in
detective magazines.
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<usan <ontagAs list of her favorite things, illustrated. .lick image for details.
"ut more than merely sharing the amusing story of his youths %uir$y habit# "radbury
believes this practice can be enormously beneficial for any writer# both practicing and
aspiring# as a critical tool of selfGdiscovery)
If you are a writer# or hope to be one# similar lists# dredged out of the lopside of your
brain# might well help you discover you# even as I flopped around and finally found me.
Ae offers himself as a testament)
3:
I began to run through those lists# pic$ a noun# and then sit down to write a long proseG
poemGessay on it.
Somewhere along about the middle of the page# or perhaps on the second page# the prose
poem would turn into a story. =hich is to say that a character suddenly appeared and
said# L<hats meME or# L<hats an idea + likeBM 1nd the character would then finish the tale
for me.
It began to be obvious that I was learning from my lists of nouns# and that I was further
learning that my characters would do my wor$ for me# if I let them alone# if I gave them
their heads# which is to say# their fantasies# their frights.
Ae urges the aspiring writer)
6onure the nouns# alert the secret self# taste the dar$ness . spea$ softly# and write any
old word that wants to ump out of your nerves onto the page.
Shortly before his death# "radbury spea$s to his official biographer# Sam =eller who
also conducted "radburys lost 6omic 6on interview and revisits the subect of listG
ma$ing in a Paris Review interview)
<hree things are in your head) 2irst# everything you have e+perienced from the day of
your birth until right now. Every single second# every single hour# every single day. <hen#
how you reacted to those events in the minute of their happening# whether they were
disastrous or oyful. <hose are two things you have in your mind to give you material.
<hen# separate from the living e+periences are all the art e+periences youve had# the
things youve learned from other writers# artists# poets# film directors# and composers. So
all of this is in your mind as a fabulous mulch and you have to bring it out. Aow do you
do thatC I did it by ma$ing lists of nouns and then as$ing# =hat does each noun meanC
Nou can go and ma$e up your own list right now and it would be different than mine. <he
night. <he cric$ets. <he train whistle. <he basement. <he attic. <he tennis shoes. <he
firewor$s. 1ll these things are very personal. <hen# when you get the list down# you begin
to wordGassociate around it. Nou as$# =hy did I put this word downC =hat does it mean
to meC =hy did I put this noun down and not some other wordC 8o this and youre on
your way to being a good writer. Nou cant write for other people. Nou cant write for the
left or the right# this religion or that religion# or this belief or that belief. Nou have to write
the way you see things. I tell people# *a$e a list of ten things you hate and tear them
down in a short story or poem. *a$e a list of ten things you love and celebrate them.
=hen I wrote ?ahrenheit C" I hated boo$ burners and I loved libraries. So there you are.
@<hats e+actly what !oland "arthes did in (9HH# to a delightful effect.B
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