No more clock-based passivity from the novelist, who disrupted a 20 -year routine with a decision to embrace the unpredictable
I used to be a punishment morning columnist, but in the spring of 2010 I was calling a router-making facility in Shanghais Pudong district and evidenced thousands of workers in robins egg off-color jumpsuits building the gear are required to pole-vault Chinas technological connectedness ahead of all other countries in our new international order. This tableau spurred in me a soothing realisation that countries around the world was changing even more quickly than Id thought it was, and that Id better shake situations up creatively to keep pace with it.
I requested myself a few questions: how can I imbue fiction with that same fractal sense of falling down a rabbit hole that everyone is knowledge when were online? How can writing compete with Netflix? How could I compress feeling into as few messages as possible not only on a page but something people are able to read from a vehicle at 50 miles per hour?
To this end I intentionally upended what had been a 20 -year-old writing number. No more AM clock-based passivity, calmly awaiting terms that are able to or may not come depending on the nature of the fussiness of my muse. No more predictability; instead of sitting there feeling wistful for my pre-internet psyche, I tried to figure out what my new mentality was becoming and how that affected my writing. So if “youre asking me” what is my usual writing epoch, I have no specific react, precisely a series of tendencies which together define my brand-new writing normal.
One: I do much of my writing on planes. Im actually at my happiest when Im writing on an aircraft, and Im writing these words on an aircraft right now, Lufthansa flight 1436 from Frankfurt to St Petersburg. Theres no Wi-Fi( sanctuary !) and Im having that not distasteful awarenes of soon-to-end Schengen-era statelessness the kind of transnational fluidity so accurately touted by Monocle magazine a headspace where all the men wear slim-fit clothing and all the women in little pitch-black dresses “re going back to the” part from the Embassy function to do some late nighttime C ++ coding.
Q: Would you like a glass of irrigate with your vodka tonic ?
A: No. Thats why God invented ice cubes .
Two: I do much of my writing in hotel rooms, especially if theres a deadline. Actually, since I wrote the above paragraph Ive territory and am now in the Saint petersburg W hotel which has killer Wi-Fi and interior design alternatives possibly made( in the highest possible appreciation) by an oligarchs mistress. Theres something about being in a hotel chamber most writers know this implicitly that free-spokens up ones speculating. First you target a scorched land do-not-disturb on your email accounting( autoreply: Im dead and hence unable to reply to your email) and second, hide the mobile phone in the desk drawer and its almost as good as being on an aircraft. None can achieve you. Youre safe.
Three: I write in places connected in definable ways to the forces of both globalisation and deglobalisation: Shanghai router-making facilities; Chilean classrooms taken over by complaining students, the chambers now converted into masters studios; the International House of Pancakes on the northern surface of Interstate 15 in Las Vegas. The more random and unpredictable the better.
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