How does a new work begin for you?

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.

Recorded Norman Mailer said elsewhere, not written here
No doubt. I’ve written at times about the spooky element in writing. You go in each morning, and there’s a blank page. Maybe it takes five minutes, maybe it takes an hour. Sooner or later you start writing, and then the words begin to flow. Where does that come from? You can’t pinpoint it. You always wonder, “Will it all stop tomorrow?” In that sense it’s spooky. In other words, you’re relying on a phenomenon that’s not necessarily dependable. That’s a particular kind of fear but there are other fears in writing of an altogether different sort.

Academy of Achievement interview, 2004 source ↗

Others on this question

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Ernest Greene musician, visual artist
That’s tough. At this point, with both visual art and music, I’ve done it enough where it’s very much this flow state where I’m not really thinking about any technical stuff. I’m just putting one thing down, and that leads to the next thing, and then you’re off to the races. There’s very little rationalization or any real plan, especially at the very beginning of the project. It’s literally just trying things to see where I can end up. As an album project starts shaping up, there’s a handful of songs or maybe…there’s some parameters in place, and you’re working within that.
Recorded Max Freedman, The Creative Independent interview, 27 September 2024 source ↗
Sometimes I start a story with just a feeling. Often it is a place or an image. A house, a tree, a mountain. A sentence or a phrase. Sometimes it is like a line of music, a tone. Sometimes it is a character. It’s happened a couple of times that I start from one of those places and work for a few days or weeks and one morning I will wake up with a sentence that makes me realize that one of my new characters could be related to one of the characters I wrote about 45 stories ago. Something in my unconscious mind will weave those people together and put them in the same place. Sometimes I find a way to cast an image or tone, attach it to a character I’ve already worked with. Something in me wants to connect layers over time… not just families but friendships over time, over generations. I think a lot about how we build community over time or place. Sometimes it seems that I can’t work on a project really hard without connecting it to this gigantic web that I constructed over the years.
Recorded Amanda Paige Inman, The Creative Independent interview, 3 October 2022 source ↗
Theresa Chromati American painter
The starting process has changed over time. I go back and forth from knowing exactly where I want to place the central figure and doing that first and committing to her and then building the world around her. But more recently, between the body of work I did last year and what I’m working on now, I’ve started to commit to building up the background layers slowly. Putting a wash down and building up a lot of different transparent layers that have their own energies, and then starting to rip that energy apart to then create a new form or a new structure. That language, in general, is also what this is about. Ripping and expanding, shedding and rebuilding, that push and pull of building the surface so that she has this foundation and that it feels like a more consonant structure. I’m liking that relationship to the work.
Recorded Annie Bielski, The Creative Independent interview source ↗

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