I think it begins as a kind of tension in space. There’s something out there and it’s waiting for the big bang, and I have to get that into my head. I have a composer friend in Ireland, and he beautifully said, “I have this scream in my head and I have to get it into the orchestra. I have to get it into the music.” But I wouldn’t be quite as dramatic as that. But I have this tension. I have this thing that has to be done. And the problem is, you see, once you’ve got the first paragraph down and you’ve got the tone, then the bloody book is written. All you have to do is fill it in then, which makes it really boring. I mean I’d like to be like one of those Japanese artists, you know, just go shoop ! and it’s done. But no, it takes years.
Originally asked
The Paris Review, to novelists and poets, The Art of Fiction
A recurrent craft question in The Paris Review's Art of Fiction interviews; wording varies between character, theme, first sentence, image, and idea.
You answer as yourself. Nobody on FLAPSS answers as anybody else.
Academy of Achievement interview, 2017 source ↗
Others on this question
View all 61 →We never enter into new recording projects thinking, “Yeah we’re gonna write something great here!” A lot of the time it’s a feeling like, can we write anything else? Is there anything else to say? You know what I mean? There’ll always be things to say, but if we can’t dress it up right, then it’s game over. It feels like a pretty honest place to start from: What is there to say?
I like to get into a playful state of mind, in my home studio. To spend time tinkering and looking through stuff. I have a lot of objects in my life that inspire me, in general, like books, records, synthesizers, and cameras. I like to mess around with them and get into a headspace where I can say, “Okay, I’m going to make music for two hours, and then I’m going to write for two hours.” I’m excited to be in a place where that doesn’t have to be directed toward anything too specific, for the sake of doing it and seeing where I’m at right now.
When I start a project, it’s a kind of investigation and curiosity at the beginning. I’m basically culling materials. I’m gathering. A lot of the work takes on a collage aesthetic. So I am thinking through an idea and then gathering all of the supporting documents. In some ways it’s essayistic. I’m attempting to put forth an idea or a thesis. There are assertions that are being made, and what can I use visually, whether it is 16 millimeter film from the past or things that I shoot myself, whether it’s interview that I go out and get, whether it’s me painting on film and creating some sort of abstraction that alludes to or gestures towards the assertion. It’s playtime at the beginning. It’s almost like a very active brainstorming that requires me to go out and find materials as well as make notes, as well as look at footage as well as read. It’s investigative curiosity at the beginning, this phase of questioning and garnering. And at the end it’s instinctual. It’s a sweet spot. There have been times where I’ve gone out and presented something thinking that it’s done and then brought it back. I’ve gotten audience reactions, brought it back, turned it up a little bit, and then it was done. Sometimes my finishing process requires me to see it with a large group of people.
More from Norman Foster
View profile →They were the great architects who have gone before. So they were architects like Le Corbusier, Frank Lloyd Wright. Of course, they were alive at the time that I was studying. But there were also, for me, not just buildings.
I would hope that there’s a recognition that in some way or another it has contributed to the breaking down of barriers. Somehow deinstitutionalizing some of those buildings. They might be workplaces. They might be cultural buildings, where under one roof you have the contemplation of great works of art and the studying of the history of art. That might be linked to a degree of innovation, harnessing technology to a good end. I’m bringing an element of joy and uplift to spirits.
More on craft & work
- What is the worst job you have done? 229 answers
- What do you consider your greatest achievement? 190 answers
- How do you know when a piece of work is finished? 67 answers
- What do you do when you feel creatively blocked or stuck? 66 answers
- How much rewriting or revision do you do? 46 answers
- What is the part of your job that people would be surprised is most of your job? 38 answers
Also answered this · A–Z
Agathe Snow, Alice Sheppard, André Aciman, Andrea Barrett, Ariana Reines, Bells Larsen
Search the directory for somebody in particular.
Explore further
- All craft & work questions
- The The Art of Fiction questionnaire — 3 questions from the same format
- Explore the archive — by field, age, era, and subject