The Oppositional Imagination

For more than fifty years I have been writing, tearing up, revising poems, studying poets from every culture and century available to me. I have been a poet of the oppositional imagination, meaning that I don’t think my only argument is with myself. My work is for people who want to imagine and claim wider horizons and carry on about them into the night, rather than rehearse the landlocked details of personal quandaries or the price for which the house next door just sold.

ADRIENNE RICH

Stop Aspiring and Start Writing

Advice? I don’t have advice. Stop aspiring and start writing. If you’re writing, you’re a writer. Write like you’re a goddamn death row inmate and the governor is out of the country and there’s no chance for a pardon. Write like you’re clinging to the edge of a cliff, white knuckles, on your last breath, and you’ve got just one last thing to say, like you’re a bird flying over us and you can see everything, and please, for God’s sake, tell us something that will save us from ourselves. Take a deep breath and tell us your deepest, darkest secret, so we can wipe our brow and know that we’re not alone. Write like you have a message from the king. Or don’t. Who knows, maybe you’re one of the lucky ones who doesn’t have to.

ALAN WATTS

Acquire a Cat

If you want to concentrate deeply on some problem, and especially some piece of writing or paper-work, you should acquire a cat. Alone with the cat in the room where you work ... the cat will invariably get up on your desk and settle placidly under the desk lamp ... The cat will settle down and be serene, with a serenity that passes all understanding. And the tranquility of the cat will gradually come to affect you, sitting there at your desk, so that all the excitable qualities that impede your concentration compose themselves and give your mind back the self-command it has lost. You need not watch the cat all the time. Its presence alone is enough. The effect of a cat on your concentration is remarkable, very mysterious.

MURIEL SPARK

The Novel Can Feel Like a Symphony

The reason that I am so interested in outlining…is that it serves what I’m trying to achieve in the novel. One of the things I’m interested in is how the novel can almost feel like a symphony, where there are movements over the course of the novel. It’s like how there are motifs or themes that are picked up and visited over the course of a symphony, perhaps played by different instruments — maybe this theme is played by an oboist as a solo, and then suddenly it’s in full instrumentation ten minutes later. When you get to the end of a novel, there’s this feeling of the culmination of all that you’ve been listening to coming to bear on the final conclusion. That’s really what I’m interested in doing in the novel, to some degree. And for me to achieve that outcome, it requires planning.

AMOR TOWLES

Keep Your Mouth Closed

Carry the book you’re writing in your imagination, but keep your mouth closed. That way, nothing that belongs to the book will escape--no image will fade from overexposure, no dialogue will become rote, and no idea will lose its full impact. Sealed in its original container--your head--your work will retain all its freshness and flavor.

ROBERT MASELLO

Make Writing Habitual

Try to make writing habitual. I think that if we’ve learned one thing in the last two years, it’s that we are very trainable creatures. If you’re out of the habit of writing, it feels really hard to do. And if you’re in the habit of writing it feels weird not to do it. The goal is to write regularly enough that it feels weird not to do it, so that you generate material. It’s very much like exercise in that way, and so what I find is that, in order to write regularly, I have to allow myself to write badly.

JENNIFER EGAN

Have No Unreasonable Fear of Repetition

Have no unreasonable fear of repetition. True, the repetition of a particular word several times in the same paragraph can strike a jarring note, but ordinarily the problem arises differently. The story is told of a feature writer who was doing a piece on the United Fruit Company. He spoke of bananas once; he spoke of bananas twice; he spoke of bananas yet a third time, and now he was desperate. “The world’s leading shippers of the elongated yellow fruit,” he wrote. A fourth banana would have been better.

JAMES J. KILPATRICK

Writing Is Not an Amusing Occupation

Only amateurs say that they write for their own amusement. Writing is not an amusing occupation. It is a combination of ditch-digging, mountain-climbing, treadmill and childbirth. Writing may be interesting, absorbing, exhilarating, racking, relieving. But amusing? Never!

EDNA FERBER

Suspend Judgment

You cannot be judging yourself as you write the first draft—you want to harness that unexpected energy, and you don’t want to limit the possibilities of exploration. You don’t know what you’re writing until it’s done. So if a draft is 500 pages long, you have to suspend judgment for months. It takes effort to be good at suspending judgment, to give the images and story priority over your ideas. But you keep going, casting about for the next sentence. I think there are two kinds of sentences in a rough draft: seeds and pebbles. If it’s a pebble, it’s just the next sentence and it sits there. But if it’s a seed it grows into something that becomes an important part of the life of the novel. The problem is, you can’t know ahead of time whether a sentence will be a seed or a pebble, or how important a seed it’s going to be.

JANE SMILEY

Readers Are to Be Trusted

I just write what I want to write. Quiet is very beautiful to me, the medium of everything that matters. I’m grateful for the patience of my readers, certainly. But the fact is that a novel takes over a writer’s life for literal years. What I write, day by day and word by word, is much of my felt life. It would be a terrible capitulation to give up my explorations of quiet because of anxiety about the receptiveness of readers. I have found that readers are very much to be trusted.

MARILYNNE ROBINSON