I love reading about my favorite writer’s processes – not so much as instruction (I’m too comfortable in my own rhythms) but more as a reminder and a delight in the fact that there is no one right way to write a novel. You can write it in a day. Or over twelve years. You can have a superbly disciplined word-count or create in unpredictable frenetic bursts. It was reading a 2012 interview with one of my favorite masters of historical fiction Hilary Mantel that I finally recognized myself. When asked about “productive writing techniques” she answered:
“I spend a great deal of time on background research and fact-gathering, so I have a good overall picture of where my story is going. Then, just before I write a particular scene, I gather all my notes and sources and reread them, so that all the different versions, the different voices are fighting in my head, all the characters are urging me to listen and pulling at my elbow. Then I write a scene very quickly, in something between a rage and a trance.”
Rigorous research. “Entering the monastery of the novel and starting to pray,” as I heard Anne Rice explain it once in an interview.
Assembling the textures and tones and complexities. And then the madness. Funneling exquisitely compiled data into something ragged and intuitive. Rage and trance.
It wasn’t until this past month that I remembered that writing could be something beyond craft and ritual and routine.