Toni Morrison Dispenses Sound Writing Advice: Tips You Can Apply to Your Own Work

Image by Angela Rad­ules­cu via Wiki­me­dia Com­mons

It is some­times the case that a favorite writer isn’t ter­ri­bly inter­est­ing when it comes to talk­ing shop.  This has nev­er been so with the self-reveal­ing Toni Mor­ri­son, whose pub­lic appear­ances and inter­views often dupli­cate the expe­ri­ence of read­ing one of her novels—her voice draws you in, and before you know it, you’re part of a world all her own that she has giv­en you the priv­i­lege of join­ing for a short time.

This is the expe­ri­ence of read­ing her inter­view with Elis­sa Schap­pell in the Paris Review. Mor­ri­son dis­cours­es on sub­jects rang­ing from her per­son­al rou­tine and his­to­ry, to her iden­ti­ty as a writer and a woman, to the larg­er his­to­ry of slav­ery and the black lives she writes about. Woven through it all are obser­va­tions about her art that may or may not be of any use to bud­ding writ­ers, but which will cer­tain­ly make lovers of Mor­ri­son read her work a lit­tle dif­fer­ent­ly. Some of her obser­va­tions are below:

  • Write when you know you’re at your best. For her, this hap­pened to be the ear­ly morn­ing, pre-dawn hours, before her chil­dren woke up, since she worked full-time and feels she is “not very bright or very wit­ty or very inven­tive after the sun goes down.” Mor­ri­son describes her morn­ing rit­u­al this way:

I always get and make a cup of cof­fee while it is still dark—it must be dark—and then I drink the cof­fee and watch the light come.

  • “There’s a line between revis­ing and fret­ting” It’s impor­tant for a writer to know when they are “fret­ting,” because if some­thing isn’t work­ing, “it needs to be scrapped,” although in answer to whether she goes back over pub­lished work and wish­es she had fret­ted more, Mor­ri­son answers, “a lot. Every­thing.”
  • A good edi­tor is “like a priest or a psy­chi­a­trist.” Mor­ri­son worked as an edi­tor for Ran­dom House for 20 years before she pub­lished her first nov­el. She observes the rela­tion­ship between writer and edi­tor by say­ing that get­ting the wrong one means that “you are bet­ter off alone.” One of the marks of a good edi­tor? She doesn’t “love you or your work,” there­fore offers crit­i­cism, not com­pli­ments.
  • Don’t write with an audi­ence in mind, write for the char­ac­ters. Know­ing how to read your own work—with the crit­i­cal dis­tance of a good reader—makes you a “bet­ter writer and edi­tor.” For Mor­ri­son, this means writ­ing not with an audi­ence in mind, but with the char­ac­ters to go to for advice, to tell you “if the ren­di­tion of their lives is authen­tic or not.”
  • Con­trol your char­ac­ters. Despite the ever-present and clichéd demand to “write what you know,” Mor­ri­son stu­dious­ly tries to avoid tak­ing char­ac­ter traits from peo­ple she knows. As she puts it: “mak­ing a lit­tle life for one­self by scav­eng­ing oth­er people’s lives is a big ques­tion, and it does have moral and eth­i­cal impli­ca­tions.” And as for keep­ing con­trol of her char­ac­ters, Mor­ri­son says “They have noth­ing on their minds but them­selves and aren’t inter­est­ed in any­thing but them­selves. So you can’t let them write your book for you.”
  • Plot is like melody; it does­n’t need to be com­pli­cat­ed. Mor­ri­son sums up her approach to plot in Jazz and The Bluest Eye by say­ing “I put the whole plot on the first page.” Rather than con­struct­ing intri­cate plots with hid­den twists, she prefers to think of the plot in musi­cal terms as a “melody,” where the sat­is­fac­tion lies in rec­og­niz­ing it and then hear­ing the “echoes and shades and turns and piv­ots” around it.
  • Style, like jazz, involves end­less prac­tice and restraint. Speak­ing of Jazz, Mor­ri­son tells she has always thought of her­self like a jazz musi­cian, “some­one who prac­tices and prac­tices and prac­tices in order to able to invent and to make his art look effort­less and grace­ful.” A large part of her “jazz” style, she says, is “an exer­cise in restraint, in hold­ing back.”
  • Be your­self, but be aware of tra­di­tion. Of the diver­si­ty of African-Amer­i­can jazz musi­cians and singers, Mor­ri­son says “I would like to write like that. I would like to write nov­els that were unmis­tak­ably mine, but nev­er­the­less fit first into African Amer­i­can tra­di­tions and sec­ond of all, this whole thing called lit­er­a­ture.”

Most read­ers of Morrison’s work would argue that’s exact­ly what she’s done her whole career. Read the entire inter­view here and be sure to vis­it the com­plete archive of Paris Review inter­views online.

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. It’s a great way to see our new posts, all bun­dled in one email, each day.

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Writ­ing Tips by Hen­ry Miller, Elmore Leonard, Mar­garet Atwood, Neil Gaiman & George Orwell

Ray Brad­bury Offers 12 Essen­tial Writ­ing Tips and Explains Why Lit­er­a­ture Saves Civ­i­liza­tion

Sev­en Tips From Ernest Hem­ing­way on How to Write Fic­tion

Josh Jones is a doc­tor­al can­di­date in Eng­lish at Ford­ham Uni­ver­si­ty and a co-founder and for­mer man­ag­ing edi­tor of Guer­ni­ca / A Mag­a­zine of Arts and Pol­i­tics.

A Crash Course in English Literature: A New Video Series by Best-Selling Author John Green

There’s no doubt that a sin­gle inspir­ing teacher can have a pro­found impact on a stu­den­t’s life, but what about the duds? The apoplec­tic nun, the tapped out fos­sil, the bit­ter young man? If there’s dead­wood in your edu­ca­tion­al his­to­ry, you owe it to your­self to spend some time with John Green. The charis­mat­ic author and nerd­fight­er is fol­low­ing up his online video series Crash Course World His­to­ry, with the new mini series, Crash Course Eng­lish Lit­er­a­ture.

Think Shake­speare is bor­ing? It’s a posi­tion you’ll be hard pressed to main­tain after hear­ing Green’s take on Romeo and Juli­et, a ver­i­ta­ble luge of facts, triv­ia, cute graph­ics, frank-ish sex talk, corny jokes and iambic low­down. Extra cred­it for ref­er­enc­ing Harley Granville-Bark­er, the turn of the cen­tu­ry quin­tu­ple-threat who sum­ma­rized the play as “a tragedy of youth as youth sees it”.

Hav­ing laid down a few ground rules in episode one, Green is prepar­ing to take on Fitzger­ald, Salinger, and Emi­ly Dick­in­son. If any of these names dredge up unpleas­ant mem­o­ries, relax. Green is not going to make you parse sym­bols and autho­r­i­al intent. His schtick is proud­ly pop­ulist, a Pee­Wee’s Play­house open to those who seek knowl­edge, as well as those whom expe­ri­ence has taught to resist.

Crash Course Eng­lish Lit­er­a­ture will be added to our new col­lec­tion, 200 Free Kids Edu­ca­tion­al Resources: Video Lessons, Apps, Books, Web­sites & More.

More advanced cours­es can be found in the Lit­er­a­ture sec­tion of our col­lec­tion of 575 Free Cours­es Online.

- Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author whose lat­est con­tri­bu­tion to the canon of Eng­lish Lit­er­a­ture is spec­tac­u­lar­ly sched­uled for a day after Christ­mas release.

Neil Gaiman Gives Sage Advice to Aspiring Artists

“I want to be a direc­tor, and I’ve been told that there are enough artists in the world, and that’s not some­thing I should pur­sue. Do you [agree with that]?”

A young woman put that ques­tion to sci-fi and fan­ta­sy writer Neil Gaiman at The Con­necti­cut Youth Forum last week. And he respond­ed with an answer that might sound famil­iar, espe­cial­ly if you viewed the thought­ful com­mence­ment speech he gave at The Uni­ver­si­ty of the Arts in Philadel­phia last spring. There, he gave 10 Essen­tial Tips for Work­ing in the Arts, and, if you have a real­ly sharp mem­o­ry, you’ll recall sug­ges­tions #6 and #10.

  • Make your own art, mean­ing the art that reflects your indi­vid­u­al­i­ty and per­son­al vision.
  • Leave the world more inter­est­ing than it was before.

They’re wise tips, but they’re bet­ter tak­en in con­junc­tion with sug­ges­tions 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 7, 8, and 9. Watch them all here. And don’t miss our col­lec­tion of Free Neil Gaiman Sto­ries, avail­able in text, audio and video.

The “Priest” They Called Him: A Dark Collaboration Between Kurt Cobain & William S. Burroughs

It was a dark col­lab­o­ra­tion folks. There’s no deny­ing it. In Sep­tem­ber of 1992, the Beat writer William S. Bur­roughs entered a stu­dio in Lawrence, Kansas and record­ed a nar­ra­tion of “The “Priest” They Called Him,” a short sto­ry orig­i­nal­ly pub­lished in his 1973 col­lec­tion The Exter­mi­na­tor. It’s a grim tale about hero­in, addic­tion, with­draw­al, and the “immac­u­late fix.” Two months lat­er, the read­ing was giv­en a sound­track when Kurt Cobain, then the front­man for Nir­vana, stepped into a Seat­tle stu­dio and gave Bur­rough’s read­ing a sound­track full of harsh, dis­so­nant gui­tar riffs that cap­tured the spir­it of the sto­ry. Mixed togeth­er  by E. J. Rose and James Grauer­holz, the col­lab­o­ra­tive record­ing was released as a lim­it­ed edi­tion vinyl pic­ture disc in 1993, and then again on CD and 10-inch vinyl.

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. It’s a great way to see our new posts, all bun­dled in one email, each day.

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Nirvana’s Home Videos: An Inti­mate Look at the Band’s Life Away From the Spot­light (1988)

William S. Bur­roughs Explains What Artists & Cre­ative Thinkers Do for Human­i­ty: From Galileo to Cézanne and James Joyce

William S. Bur­roughs Reads His First Nov­el, Junky

William S. Bur­roughs on Sat­ur­day Night Live, 1981

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Richard Burton Reads ‘Ballad of the Long-Legged Bait’ and 14 Other Poems by Dylan Thomas

When the actor Richard Bur­ton died in 1984 he was buried, as he request­ed, with a copy of The Col­lect­ed Poems of Dylan Thomas.

Bur­ton was a great friend and admir­er of Thomas, who shared his Welsh her­itage and rak­ish demeanor. The two men also shared a love of lit­er­a­ture. “I was cor­rupt­ed by Faust,” Bur­ton once said. “And Shake­speare. And Proust. And Hem­ing­way. But most­ly I was cor­rupt­ed by Dylan Thomas. Most peo­ple see me as a rake, wom­an­iz­er, booz­er and pur­chas­er of large baubles. I’m all those things depend­ing on the prism and the light. But most­ly I’m a read­er.”

In 1954 Bur­ton read a selec­tion of his friend’s poet­ry for a record­ing that would be released the fol­low­ing year as Richard Bur­ton Reads 15 Poems by Dylan Thomas. The record­ings were made about a year after the poet­’s death, and just when Bur­ton was rid­ing high on the suc­cess of his 1954 per­for­mance in Thomas’s radio play Under Milk Wood. The long poem “Bal­lad of the Long-Legged Bait,” above, is from the 1954 ses­sions. The 14 poems below are most­ly from the same ses­sions, although a cou­ple of them might be from lat­er record­ings made by Bur­ton.

  1. Under Milk Wood
  2. Deaths and Entrances
  3. Lament
  4. Ele­gy
  5. A Win­ter’s Tale
  6. Fern Hill
  7. Before I Knocked
  8. In My Craft or Sullen Art
  9. I See the Boys of Sum­mer
  10. Lie Still, Sleep Becalmed
  11. The Force that Through the Green Fuse Dri­ves the Flower
  12. The Hand that Signed the Paper
  13. And Death Shall Have No Domin­ion
  14. Do Not Go Gen­tle Into That Good Night

Relat­ed con­tent:

Dylan Thomas Recites ‘Do Not Go Gen­tle Into That Good Night’ and Oth­er Poems

Kafka’s Nightmare Tale, ‘A Country Doctor,’ Told in Award-Winning Japanese Animation

Here’s a good sto­ry for a cold Decem­ber night: Franz Kafka’s cryp­tic, hal­lu­ci­na­to­ry tale of “A Coun­try Doc­tor.”

Writ­ten in Prague dur­ing the icy win­ter of 1916–1917, Kafka’s sto­ry unfolds in one long para­graph like a fevered night­mare. “I was in great per­plex­i­ty,” says the nar­ra­tor, an old doc­tor, as he sets out in a bliz­zard at night on an urgent but vague mis­sion. But he can’t go any­where. His horse, worn out by the win­ter, has just died and his ser­vant girl is going door to door plead­ing for help. A sur­re­al sequence of events fol­low.

“A Coun­try Doc­tor” is per­me­at­ed with the qual­i­ties John Updike found so com­pelling in Kaf­ka: “a sen­sa­tion of anx­i­ety and shame whose cen­ter can­not be locat­ed and there­fore can­not be pla­cat­ed; a sense of an infi­nite dif­fi­cul­ty with­in things, imped­ing every step; a sen­si­tiv­i­ty acute beyond use­ful­ness, as if the ner­vous sys­tem, flayed of its old hide of social usage and reli­gious belief, must record every touch as pain.”

In 2007 the award-win­ning Japan­ese ani­ma­tor Koji Yama­mu­ra made a 21-minute film (see above) which cap­tures some of the strange­ness and beau­ty of Kafka’s sto­ry. It seems some­how appro­pri­ate that the dream­like nar­ra­tive has been trans­mut­ed into a form and lan­guage unknown to Kaf­ka. And if you aren’t famil­iar with the orig­i­nal, you can read a trans­la­tion of “A Coun­try Doc­tor” by Willa and Edwin Muir. You can also find Kafka’s sto­ries in our col­lec­tion of Free Audio Books and Free eBooks.

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. It’s a great way to see our new posts, all bun­dled in one email, each day.

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

Relat­ed Con­tent: 

Franz Kaf­ka: The Ani­mat­ed Short Film

Orson Welles Nar­rates Ani­mat­ed Ver­sion of Kafka’s Para­ble, “Before the Law”

Four Franz Kaf­ka Ani­ma­tions: Enjoy Cre­ative Ani­mat­ed Shorts from Poland, Japan, Rus­sia & Cana­da

 

Vladimir Nabokov Talks About Life, Literature & Love in a Meticulously Prepared Interview, 1969

“I think like a genius, I write like a dis­tin­guished author, and I speak like a child.” So begins Vladimir Nabokov in the fore­word to his 1973 book of inter­views and arti­cles, Strong Opin­ions.

To avoid speak­ing like a child in pub­lic, Nabokov took great pains to pre­pare his every word. “Through­out my aca­d­e­m­ic ascent in Amer­i­ca from lean lec­tur­er to Full Pro­fes­sor, I have nev­er deliv­ered to my audi­ence one scrap of infor­ma­tion not pre­pared in type­script before­hand and not held under my eyes on the bright-lit lectern.”

When it came to giv­ing inter­views, Nabokov was hor­ri­fied by the notion of sit­ting back and hav­ing a casu­al chat with a reporter. “It has been tried at least twice in the old days,” he writes, “and once a record­ing machine was present, and when the tape was rerun and I had fin­ished laugh­ing, I knew that nev­er in my life would I repeat that sort of per­for­mance. Nowa­days I take every pre­cau­tion to ensure a dig­ni­fied beat of the man­dar­in’s fan. The inter­view­er’s ques­tions have to be sent to me in writ­ing, answered by me in writ­ing, and repro­duced ver­ba­tim. Such are the three absolute con­di­tions.”

So the excerpt above from a 1969 inter­view with the British jour­nal­ist James Moss­man should be under­stood as a care­ful­ly pre­pared per­for­mance. As Nabokov says in his own intro­duc­tion to the full text ver­sion of the inter­view in Strong Opin­ions, Moss­man sub­mit­ted 58 ques­tions on Sep­tem­ber 8, 1969, and “some 40 were answered and record­ed by me from writ­ten cards in Mon­treaux.” In a con­ver­sa­tion rang­ing from the plea­sure and agony of com­pos­ing fic­tion to Dos­toyevsky’s “ghast­ly Crime and Pun­ish­ment rig­ma­role,” the man­dar­in’s fan keeps a dig­ni­fied beat.

Releat­ed con­tent:

Vladimir Nabokov (Chan­nelled by Christo­pher Plum­mer) Teach­es Kaf­ka at Cor­nell

Vladimir Nabokov Recites His Ear­ly Poem, ‘To My Youth’

Nabokov Reads Loli­ta, Names the Great Books of the 20th Cen­tu­ry

Orson Welles Reads ‘The Secret Sharer,’ by Joseph Conrad

Today is the birth­day of the writer Joseph Con­rad. He was born Józef Teodor Kon­rad Korzniows­ki on Decem­ber 3, 1857 in Berdichev, in the Pol­ish Ukraine. As a young man he trav­eled the world as a mer­chant sail­er, an expe­ri­ence that fur­nished mate­r­i­al and inspi­ra­tion for his Eng­lish-lan­guage books, which include such clas­sics as Nos­tro­mo, Lord Jim and Heart of Dark­ness.

To mark the occa­sion we bring you a record­ing of Orson Welles read­ing (lis­ten to it here) Con­rad’s short sto­ry “The Secret Shar­er” in 1985 as one of his selec­tions for The Orson Welles Library. “I think I’m made for Con­rad,” Welles once said. “I think every Con­rad sto­ry is a movie.” Con­rad wrote “The Secret Shar­er” in 1909. The sto­ry is told by the cap­tain of a ship. One night, while on watch in waters near the Gulf of Siam, the cap­tain dis­cov­ers a naked swim­mer cling­ing des­per­ate­ly to the side of the ship. He helps the mys­te­ri­ous man aboard and learns his sto­ry. The cap­tain is then faced with a dilem­ma: Should he help the man, or turn him over to the peo­ple who are look­ing for him?

You can find “The Secret Shar­er” and oth­er works by Joseph Con­rad in our col­lec­tions of  Free Audio Books and Free eBooks. And for more read­ings by Welles, please see our meta post: Orson Welles Nar­rates Plato’s Cave Alle­go­ry, Kafka’s Para­ble, and Free­dom Riv­er.

h/t The Writer’s Almanac

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