“To get my mind ready for writing, I try to sit quietly and stare at nothing for ten minutes. It clears away the Salt-n-Pepa lyrics and staircase wit that have been clogging up the channels. After the silence, if I’m at a critical juncture, I then listen to records from Sublime Frequencies—a label specializing in a kind of post-field recording ethnomusicology—and try to transcribe what I hear. This doesn’t often result in work for the ages, but it’s a good reminder that the best writing comes from outside.”
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.
“José Martí wrote, ‘In the world there must be certain degrees of honor just as there must be certain degrees of light. When there are many men without honor, there are always others who bear in themselves the honor of many men.’ What inspires me are the men and women who bear in themselves the ‘honor’ of survival—men like the brothers I taught at Graterford Prison, reconnoitering their lives after having fought in Vietnam; young mothers dragging their children around corners of fatigue at the end of the day, looking neither left nor right.
“I’ve figured out things that were stonewalling me during cross-country drives, and usually when I’m trying to pull an all-nighter to avoid traffic and get there in less time—maybe it’s all the caffeine and the mesmerizing white lines in the middle of the road. I keep a recorder or a yellow pad on the passenger seat and I talk into the recorder or write on the pad with one hand in big letters because I’m not looking at the pad and want to be sure I can read what I wrote later on.
“Nothing inspires me like the imagination in a vacuum. I always pick the most closet-like, even coffin-like, space in the house for my writing room. No windows, no photos, no ‘stuff.’ I never play any music, I don’t have an inspiration board, I disable the internet, and the cell is always off. The outside world is far too tempting. If I go out for a run, suddenly the body is of paramount concern; if I listen to my favorite music, I won’t be able to shake the imprints out of my head; if I watch a great movie, I’m seduced by images. I have to stay put with my project when I'm with-project.
“More and more my foremost, abiding desire is to write books of a surpassing strangeness, and to do this I’ve had to hold closely to Joyce's famous adage of silence, cunning, and exile every day. This means I have to show up at the desk each day before dawn, and so I do like a poor man showing up for a rather mysterious handout, lighting a candle in his tattered cardigan as he sits over an illuminated screen, aware the entire time that this love of language is the deepest and most consistently astonishing thing he knows.”
“These are the things that make me want to be a better writer: the desert sky, the dust storms, the smell of rain, the river that is no longer a river but a border—my entire landscape; the violence that is killing the city of Juárez; opening William Faulkner’s Absalom! Absalom! and finding a passage, then reading it aloud; rereading Gabriel García Márquez’s Love in the Time of Cholera; reading anything by C. D. Wright, C. K.
“For inspiration, I love to go to old, junky antique shops—which there are a lot of here in the South, thankfully—and hunt for a box of old postcards and photos. The messages that people wrote to each other in that fancy handwriting no one has anymore are often so weird or sad or funny. Handmade things are also inspiring to me, so I love to find an old carving or a crappy painting and think about the person who may have made it.
“I write to solo piano music (recently I’ve been listening to Edvard Grieg’s Lyric Pieces). Then I pick up something close to hand and see what strikes me. For instance, ‘At Wallace Stevens’ Grave’ was sparked by a detail in Paul Veyne's History of Private Life describing ancient Romans chatting about what they'd like on their own funerary bas-reliefs, and by other reading about early motion pictures and about Wallace Stevens’s last years. All three strands melded into a poem.
“I recommend finding time to write every single day, even when you don’t feel inspired. I’m a night person, but since I have a child in school I have learned to wake up early to make writing part of my morning routine, between brushing my teeth and exercise (which I also recommend; my current obsession is Kundalini yoga). Sometimes I write for five minutes, sometimes an hour. If I can't think of anything to say, I begin describing objects in the room as if drawing them. Prioritizing writing first thing helps focus a hectic day—and then the books get written.”
“I find inspiration in so many things—paintings by Gerhard Richter or Mary Heilmann, conceptual art, novels, a nice run at the blackjack table, a long mountain bike ride, talks with my wife, talks with other writers. Also, music, it isn’t inspiration for me exactly, but listening to certain albums puts me in a mood, a frame of mind, sort of like method acting for actors. For instance, I listened to Bon Iver’s For Emma, Forever Ago over and over again as I was finishing my new novel.”
—Michael Kimball, author of Dear Everybody (Alma Books, 2008)