Light the Dark: Writers on Creativity, Inspiration, and the Artistic Process

And it’s interesting that the writing I tend to think of as “good” is good because it’s mysterious. It tends to happen when I get out of the way—when I let it go a little bit, I surprise myself. I feel most pleased with my language when I don’t understand it completely.

So we would go scrumping—do you know the term “to scrump”? It’s an English word that basically means to steal apples, but also has come to mean to steal any type of fruit.

But we have to turn it in—and at that point, you are guided by craft. You get to do your anarchy, try this and try that, try everything, and then apply craft.

Stories begin with microscopic-level detail, in the particularities that make up each individual life.

It’s a voice, and an invitation, that’s very difficult for me to refuse. It’s like finding a good friend who has valuable information to share. Here’s somebody, it says, who can provide entertainment, an escape, and maybe even a way of looking at the world that will open your eyes. In fiction, that’s irresistible. It’s why we read.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore; While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey, I hear it in the deep heart’s core.

I’ve found that the way to capture the truth of a character—and beyond that, to reflect the truth of how I feel—is to write microscopically. To focus on all the tiny details that, together, make sense of character.

So an intriguing context is important, and so is style. But for me, a good opening sentence really begins with voice.

Seated each afternoon in the darkened screening room, Bannerman came to regard the targeted numerals of the Academy leader as hypnagogic sigils preceding the dream-state of film.”