Brett Scott

How did you become a writer?

I’ve never had a precise moment of becoming a writer really, and I don’t necessarily think of myself primarily as a writer. It’s always just been something I’ve done and over the years I’ve worked on it. I guess I read a lot growing up and that in turn helped me get a basic sense for what writing should sound like. I use the term "sound" deliberately, because I often think of writing as kind of the same as speaking. I mean, if I can say something I should be able to write it down. I’m not sure all other writers necessarily think like this – sometimes I read pieces that are very elaborate and beautiful, but that would probably sound unnatural or overly ornate and artificial if you said them out aloud.

In terms of building an overt "writer" identity, though, I guess this happened in 2010 after I’d left the financial sector and I started sitting in Foyles Café in London writing about my financial experiences. Then I got somewhat obsessed by that and wrote 160 thousand words over several months whilst bankrupting myself. The book I wrote then never got published, but in the process I got commissioned to write a different book, called The Heretic’s Guide to Global Finance. During this time I began to think more about writing as an overt craft.

Name your writing influences (writers, books, teachers, etc.).

I don’t necessarily have any definite writing influences that I can pinpoint. Rather I have a whole range of books that have probably subconsciously influenced me. I am also a musician and I can name specific musicians that have influenced me much more easily than I can name writers. But, if I had to name some classics, Ragtime by E.L. Doctorow, Catcher in the Rye by Salinger, Moby Dick by Melville, and possibly even Kerouac’s On the Road. Also, I love sci-fi writers like William Gibson, Ursula Le Guin and Kim Stanley Robinson. Actually, Bob Dylan has influenced me a lot – I loved his autobiography Chronicles – and Tom Waits, another musician who has some great surreal writing and dark storytelling. My cartoonist uncle Anthony Stidolph (aka. Stidy) is a great writer too, and I reckon he’s probably influenced me.

When and where do you write? 

I write on trains and planes and in coffee shops and in my room. I have no specific times that I write, but I normally don’t write very late at night. Strangely, I write a lot of stuff when I’m sitting on stages during panel discussions. I do a fair amount of events and speaking and I find that environment sparks a lot of thought, so I get it down on paper. I’d also make a distinction between writing notes (which I often do all the time), constructing a piece and editing a piece. I do these things at different times.

What are you working on now? 

Well I always have a few journalism pieces and essays on the go. So I’m writing an essay on the ethics of digital finance, an essay on money, and a paper on the governance of decentralised technology systems. Apart from that I’m planning a big new book on the financial sector, which will take many months of preparation. I also have a lot of pieces that I’m writing for nobody in particular, that I start and then leave for a few months and then pick up again. The aim with these pieces is that they’ll eventually either be published or will inform other pieces I do.

Have you ever suffered from writer’s block? 

I always like to think there is a difference between magic and a magician. Magicians are essentially entertaining con-men who claim to be able to produce magic on demand. No matter how they’re feeling or what the situation is, they can make the coin disappear, and this is how you know it isn’t true magic. Actual magic – if it exists – would not be something you can just conjure up on demand. It would come in waves through a confluence of forces, and it wouldn’t always work. It would ebb and flow, and you’d need to recharge yourself after a period of casting intense spells. I feel this is a pretty good analogy for writing. No writer can ever just produce writing of equal quality on command. So yes, I go through periods where I write less or get frustrated at not being able to express something or can’t think as clearly as I want, and I guess you can characterise this as periods of "writers block," but I’d be reluctant to describe it as some kind of condition that needs to be "cured." In most creative scenes people go through dynamic cycles of creativity, sometimes having high energy and sometimes feeling low. My mother is an artist and she has a mantra which is "trust the process." Sometimes she feels down and feels like a piece of work is going nowhere, but she just pushes on. It’s the only thing you can really do.

What’s the best writing advice you’ve ever received?

Someone once quoted the "kill your babies" line to me, which means you’ve got to be prepared to let go of paragraphs that you think are profound but that actually aren’t serving a piece. I think this is really important, but admittedly I still struggle with it.

Also, I’m never sure which writing advice to take. I write for various media outlets and you get these editors who have these hard lines on how writing is supposed to be done and they treat them like universal laws, but there are trends and fashions in writing that come and go and these laws are seldom set in stone. For example, some editors insist that you cannot write long sentences, but why pedantically limit yourself like that? This observation can be expanded into other areas like public speaking. You have these people who write books or run workshops on how to sound like a professional TED speaker, but to me the TED speaker style is clichéd and pretentious. Actually a lot of professional journalism can sound clichéd too, despite being the "correct" way to write in that context. In the music realm you get session musicians who, again, are highly proficient and know the "correct" way to play things, but seldom have anything distinctive about their playing. So, you’ve got to treat advice about "how to write" carefully, because it can often be someone projecting their biases onto you.

What’s your advice to new writers?

Well, related to last points I made above, I’d say don’t try to write like "a writer." Write with your own voice. And again, when I say "voice" I mean it literally. Can you picture yourself saying what you write to others? If you can’t picture yourself doing that, you’re either overtly performing a different persona – which can be fine if you’re doing that deliberately – or you’re not being yourself.

Secondly, I’d say try do other things beyond writing. If you have a writing impulse and you also spend time exploring or working on other projects, those projects give you material to feed your writing impulse. In my case, for example, I work on various activist campaigns, financial projects, money systems and technology collaborations, and those in turn give me material to write about. Actually, the relationship isn’t just one way – the act of writing about those things in turn helps you to make sense of them, which in turn helps you to do those things more effectively. Writing is both reflective and creative in the sense of helping you understand things and also helping you articulate things you want to see created.

Brett Scott is a journalist, campaigner and the author of The Heretic’s Guide to Global Finance: Hacking the Future of Money (2013). He works on financial reform, alternative finance and economic activism with a wide variety of NGOs, artists, students and start-ups, and writes for publications such as The Guardian, New Scientist, Wired Magazine and CNN.com. He is a Senior Fellow of the Finance Innovation Lab, an Associate at the Institute of Social Banking and an advisory group member of the Brixton Pound. He tweets as @suitpossum.

Heather Sellers

How did you become a writer?

To me becoming a writer means consistently creating work while using the process as a laboratory for observation. Learning how to observe people and understand more of the human experience is part of the process; equally important is learning how to look at one’s self alongside the work-in-progress with a balance of compassion and growth-orientation.

Name your writing influences (writers, books, teachers, etc.).

My most important influence is the natural world: being outside alone or with a quiet beloved friend. Then: art and literature, especially where the two intersect.  Text and image. Visual artists and their writing about process—I’m thinking about Anne Truitt’s Daybook or Van Gogh’s letters. The trove of writers’ minds at work: The Paris Review interviews, artists talks, lectures, readings, classes. Henry James on craft. Steinbeck’s Journal of a Novel. My teachers. Especially those who keep saying you can do this.  I imagine I’ll always want to have teachers.

When and where do you write? 

I write in the morning in my office in complete silence. I write in my friends’ apartments. I teach during the day and in the evening I revise at bars and restaurants where I enjoy my manuscript as companion and the noisy backdrop helps keep demons at bay. I bring back-up books in case my companion goes silent or weird.  The most productive writing time might be in the blocks between semesters when one can manage to at least partially hide away for days or weeks at a time.

What are you working on now? 

Better not to say and to work instead. Am I a superstitious? Shy? Stingy? I’m not sure. I love to hear what other people are working on but for me it’s better not to talk about content because talking makes me feel my contact with what’s urgent behind the writing slackens. 

By way of process, I’m working on learning more about structure. What creates momentum and progression? And, I’m working on learning how to better help my students move more deeply into a place of unknowing and tolerate uncertainty for longer and longer.

My friend, the painter Valerie Larko, paints complex landscapes en plein air, over a period often of months or even years. She has a morning painting going and an afternoon painting going (because of the light). She does small “car paintings” with her travel easel on the steering wheel. (When the weather is bad.) I try to teach and practice a process that adapts to changing conditions, internal and external.

We must be able to work on more than two fronts.

Have you ever suffered from writer’s block? 

Fear, depression, lack of knowledge of self and process—these things separate one from one’s work.  I’m a religious person. I seek to address such separations with reverence and humility, and engage these things with questions, along with, I hope, some patience (and humor?) now that I’m old. There are many things to worry about and the worrying itself can become a habit and be very sticky.

What’s the best writing advice you’ve ever received?

Hush. Eric Maisel.

Show a lot, tell a little, never explain. Phillip Lopate. Dinty Moore.

Have someone waiting for your pages. Wallace Stevens.

What’s your advice to new writers?

Welcome! Please tell me more.

Heather Sellers is the author of You Don’t Look Like Anyone I Know, a memoir, Georgia Under Water, short stories, and, most recently, The Practice of Creative Writing, a textbook for beginners in any genre. Her recent essays appear in The Sun, Real Simple, Good Housekeeping, and The New York Times.  A Florida native, she teaches in the MFA program at the University of South Florida.

Sarah Knight

How did you become a writer?

I’ve always been a writer—a dabbler, a periodic poster, an infrequently paid contributor—but how did I become a real, live, published author of two books? Well, after I quit my job as a book editor at Simon & Schuster, I had an idea, drafted a proposal, showed it to a literary agent (who had expressed interest in whatever I might do after I left corporate publishing), and she sold the hell out of it. My path was certainly less fraught than many of the writers I’ve worked with, because I had good connections and a deep understanding of the business, but ultimately it was all about getting struck with a great idea and then executing it.

Name your writing influences (writers, books, teachers, etc.).

My high school English teacher, Bonnie Jean Cousineau, was a great champion of mine, and I credit her with developing my childhood love of reading into a deeper intellectual pursuit of literature. My Uncle Bob, who recently passed away, was my “biggest fan” (his words) and always said I would write a book someday. Turns out, he was right.

As to stylists, I love any writer who can grab me from the first line and propel me through a book, whether a novel or nonfiction. My favorite first line of all time is from John Irving’s A Prayer for Owen Meany:

"I am doomed to remember a boy with a wrecked voice—not because of his voice, or because he was the smallest person I ever knew, or even because he was the instrument of my mother’s death, but because he is the reason I believe in God; I am a Christian because of Owen Meany."

When you think about it, even just the first three words are more compelling than the opening lines of most books!

I always want to be surprised and entertained when I read, which is probably why, during my career as an editor, I gravitated toward commercial fiction (specifically thrillers and suspense), humor, and celebrity memoir. But I also worked with many literary writers whose prose and plotting was equally page-turning. I’m not one to revel in a beautifully crafted but static novel—I like to feel invigorated when I read.

Finally, I’m such a word nerd that I love writers who are inventive and playful with language, like Nabokov. My own books (The Life-Changing Magic of Not Giving a F*ck and Get Your Sh*t Together) are nowhere near his orbit, of course, but I do like to play around with language and I have several fuckmanteaus to show for it.

When and where do you write? 

I am a creature of habit, and my brain works best between about noon and four p.m., so that’s when I do most of my work. Now that I live in the Dominican Republic (my husband and I moved here from Brooklyn last year), I write at our outdoor dining table, overlooking the pool and garden, and with a never-ending parade of lizards to provide distraction.

What are you working on now? 

I’m crafting a piece for Medium called How To Switch Seats On An Airplane, inspired by my recent trip to Miami to give a TEDx talk. As I say in Get Your Sh*t Together, I have a real beef with people who think I guess I’ll just sit wherever is a viable strategy for ticketed airline travel.

Have you ever suffered from writer’s block? 

Not in a serious way, thankfully. Both of my books were written on extremely tight deadlines (four weeks and ten weeks, respectively) so I really had to put my butt in the seat every day to grind out the words. Some days, they came more easily than others, and every once in a while I had to admit defeat and just take a day off—and inevitably, the words poured forth with gusto after my brief mental vacation.

What’s the best writing advice you’ve ever received?

If you have to explain the joke, it’s not funny.

What’s your advice to new writers?

Respect the process. Whether you’re just trying to finish a draft of a book, or sending out query letters to agents, or you’ve got a contract and are working with a publisher, there are no magic shortcuts to writing a book or publishing one. Eventually there will be lots of people other than you whose opinions and experience shape the book’s trajectory. It’s important to keep that in mind and not try to cut corners. Patience, Grasshopper.

Sarah Knight is the internationally-bestselling author of two profane self-help books: The Life-Changing Magic of Not Giving a F*ck and Get Your Sh*t Together, which have been translated into seventeen languages and counting. She lives in the Dominican Republic, and you can follow her on Twitter, Instagram, and Medium @MCSnugz.