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Magazine » Writers Recommend
In this online exclusive we ask authors to share books, art, music, writing prompts, films—anything and everything—that has inspired them in their writing. We see this as a place for writers to turn to for ideas that will help feed their creative process.
“Here are two things that have helped me when I feel depleted or confused, which is often. One: I find that ideas like to come when they’re most inconvenient. So I daydream my way through situations where writing is impossible. In the shower. While dog-walking. On the subway. I don’t rush out of that situation to write anything down—I just let my mind go, fabricating and wandering, until the end of the day, when I make a record of where my thoughts have gone. It gives me material to start with the next morning. Two: When I’m in direst need of inspiration, I do what I call ‘sentence stealing.’ I find a sentence from a writer I admire and write it down. ‘In the beginning I left messages in the street.’ Or, ‘Mrs. Dalloway said she would buy the flowers herself.’ Then I write my own version of the sentence, focusing only on its rhythms: by which I mean, replacing a noun with a noun, a verb with a verb. What’s left is a ghostly echo of the original sentence with no relationship to its actual content. And I follow that new sentence wherever it takes me, down the road to an unfolding story.”
—Alix Ohlin, author of Inside (Knopf, 2012)
“There are all the usual catalytic suspects—music, especially—but once in a while I hit upon a new comedic genius who makes me want to duplicate his or her efforts somehow. Recently, I was tipped off to Comedy Central’s Kroll Show. It’s an intertextual sketch-comedy show in which comedian Nick Kroll plays a wide range of characters who star on different (fictional) reality shows, from the Jersey Shore-like Bobby Bottleservice to Liz, one of two publicists named Liz on “Publizity.” His impersonations (and the production values of the fake shows) are pitch-perfect, but so is the insight into class and gender through the filter of one of our most vapid and addicting mainstream art forms, the reality show. I’m interested in literary ventriloquism, in articulating yourself—and a cultural critique—through wildly disparate voices, and Kroll does it as well as anyone. If there’s any justice in the world, this show will get many more seasons and Nick Kroll will get to do whatever he wants creatively.”
—Teddy Wayne, author of The Love Song of Jonny Valentine (Free Press, 2013)
“I affectionately refer to my writer’s-little-helper as ‘the green book,’ but it’s actually called The Modern Library’s Writer’s Workshop. I've gifted this wonder of a book, which is less a writing manual and more of a spirit guide, to many of my writer friends and they’ve all been equally captivated and enriched by the author’s wise, old soul voice. Written by Stephen Koch, former chair of Columbia University’s graduate writing program, the book details the writing experiences of many of the greats—from Gustave Flaubert’s one-draft manuscripts to Philip Roth’s constant redrafting and tinkering style—in an effort to galvanize your own process. This book made me feel so much less alone and aided me through the darkest moments of writing Brain on Fire. In short, Stephen Koch is my hero.”
—Susannah Cahalan, author of Brain on Fire (Free Press, 2012)
“I recommend dipping salted almonds (not smokehouse almonds, just dried, salted almonds) into Nutella hazelnut spread and eating them like that. I tried this for the first time yesterday, and it was delicious. My best friend from growing up is Sicilian, and his grandmother used to tell him that he should eat three almonds every day—exactly three, no-more-no-less—because it would make him smarter. (I picture her covering one eye and spitting at the ground.) I know it sounds nuts. (Sorry.) I would have liked to use this very writing exercise to try to test the theory scientifically, but there was no way, considering the addictive combination of salty and sweet and chocolate and umami, that I would have been able to eat only three. So here we are. I do think that inspiration can come from anything and everything in the world around us. So that good writing, or any kind of art, is as likely to be sparked by sensual perception as by other good writing or art. Jeez. That sounds like a boneheaded combination of Proust and Jim Morrison, doesn’t it? I should have stopped at three.”
—Dave Bry, author of Public Apology (Grand Central, 2013)
“I keep going back to Flannery O’Connor’s quote: ‘The beginning of human knowledge is through the senses, and the fiction writer begins where the human perception begins. He appeals through the senses, and you cannot appeal through the senses with abstractions.’ An exercise that I often give my fiction students (because it works for me) is to jot down the five senses on a piece of paper, then go for a walk and collect as many details as I can that correspond to sight, smell, taste, touch, and sound. The second part of the assignment is that during this walk, there’s no talking allowed. Great writers are really great noticers of life. You can’t come up with beautiful words and sentences if they aren’t somehow rooted in the kind of detail that can only be gleaned from life by becoming incredibly still and focused. It’s a state of being in the world that’s become increasingly rare and hard to achieve, but not impossible.”
—Aaron Hamburger, author of Faith for Beginners (Random House, 2006)
“I write in the mornings. Pre-breakfast, post-sending kids off to school. Just me and my computer on the porch, a cup of instant coffee and sad to say, the odd cigarette. I’m very particular about the mug I choose for my coffee—it seems to forecast the writing mood I’m in that day. Some favorites are my ‘Write Like a Motherfucker,’ ordered from the Rumpus, or the mustard yellow one with ‘Dagmara’ painted on it, which I bought in Poland, or a ceramic one I made for my husband when we first started dating.
"No music. No people. Just me and my mug.
"Most other inspiration lies in my past, and, like most first-time novelists, I write what I know. Or what I remember. And when I’m stuck, when my own memory fails to ignite anything worthy, I mine old photographs. Black-and-white family photos. My grandmother leaning on a telephone pole next to a dapper gentleman who I know was not my grandfather, her wavy hair falling lazily over one eye. Cobblestones in the background. That kind of thing. Each photo becomes a mystery to unravel, a launching pad, a kernel of an idea. Sometimes I look at photos of myself as a kid, buckteeth and shy smile, the unfortunate zigzag set of my bangs across my forehead. I imagine that girl as someone other than myself, and sometimes if I’m lucky, a story unfolds.”
—Dagmara Dominczyk, author of The Lullaby of Polish Girls (Spiegel & Grau, 2013)
“This is going to sound very meta, but when I need a kick in the pants I like to read author interviews. There’s nothing more inspiring to me than eavesdropping on another writer talking shop. Writing books is oftentimes a solitary, lonely process. Authors discussing their own processes gives me a sense of connectedness to a larger community that extends hundreds of years into the past. It’s helpful to know you’re not alone. I’m particularly fond of book-length conversations, such as David Lipsky’s portrait of David Foster Wallace, Although of Course You End Up Becoming Yourself, and Lady Blessington’s Conversations With Lord Byron. In fact, the longer the interview, the longer I can procrastinate from returning to my work-in-progress. Speaking of which…”
—Andrew Shaffer, author of Literary Rogues: A Scandalous History of Wayward Authors (Harper Perennial, 2013)
“I feel very boring admitting that my biggest inspiration for writing novels is reading…novels. I spent four and a half years working on what will be my first published (and second completed) novel. During that time, I developed a habit of turning to Richard Yates’s Revolutionary Road and The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen. I could flip to any page of either for evidence of what makes them so terrific—the sheer density of smart observations (ideas that another writer would hang a whole chapter on a single one, in these books, follow each other in crackling succession), the deft prose, the intelligence, perspective and humor that is brought to bear on almost every character, no matter how mercilessly dissected. (Well, humor is in short supply in Revolutionary Road, but that lack is counterbalanced by Yates’s terrifically exacting eye for self-deception and affectation.) I keep both books on my desk always, along with Middlemarch.”
—Adelle Waldman, author of The Love Affairs of Nathaniel P (Henry Holt, 2013)
“Is it old fashioned to recommend love as a writing prescription? I could say a lot about the mind-quieting effects of long-distance running, regular meditation, and a well-crafted soundtrack, but what about the mind-blooming madness of love? I’m talking about the crazy kind, not the long-suffering wife who silently delivers tea to your desk and keeps your calendar. I’m talking about a heart torn open, in falling, in breaking, in longing, in pining, in mid-swoon mania. A little mania has always done wonders for artists, in work if not in life. If we met our characters with the endless curiosity we bring to our lovers’ bodies, we could hardly fail to conjure them in all dimensions. If we could direct love’s inexhaustible obsession, its hunger for possession to our language, how could we not hammer it to perfection? Passion is the desire to consume what we cannot, not completely. And writing is the effort to name what we cannot, not exactly. The agony of their impossibility is what drives us, so why not drive one into the other? So long as I’m not driven to distraction, I find they make an industrious pair.”
—Melissa Febos, author of Whip Smart (Thomas Dunne Books, 2011)
"I'm an extrovert. I talk to strangers at Target, to telemarketers too. When I can't find an actual person I turn to Twitter. When the Wi-Fi’s down, I watch TV. I live for voices. Of course, as a writer I need silence, so I impose it on myself. I take long walks, aimless drives. But when the walk turns into a neighborly chat or the drive ends in a flat tire, I come home and shower until the water runs out. And that is where I do my best work, where I puzzle out characters and timelines. Where nothing can reach me, no phone, no e-mail. A shower is, in this technological world, the only place I can force myself to be truly alone."
—Laurel Snyder, author of The Myth of the Simple Machines (No Tell Books, 2007)