Kureishi says: 'Writing is as steady a job as any job can be. Routine makes the imagination possible'
I had wanted to be a writer – to devote myself to words and storytelling – from the age of 14. I can remember the moment it occurred to me, one day at school, and how differently I felt about the world after, the door to the future opening. But I hadn't given much thought as to how I would support myself, and later, a family. I seemed to believe that I'd get by somehow. The details didn't matter, particularly since I made the decision to write in 1968 – a time when creativity rather than "bread" was the key. And the writers I'd admired – Kafka, Beckett, Kerouac, Henry Miller, among others – hardly had "professional writer" on their passports.
They were artists, which was different, and none of them, to my knowledge, seemed concerned about the price of prams, or had children at private school – both of which, according to a rather arch idea of Cyril Connolly's, were lethal for writers: "There is no more sombre enemy of good art than the pram in the hallway."
Perhaps, for some people, becoming an artist implies abandoning ordinary life for the excitement of bohemianism, but I can't say I know many writers like that. Writing is as steady a job as any job can be. Routine makes the imagination possible. "Acting in", you could call it, as opposed to acting out. Writers are envied because writing, or perhaps any form of art, is the most gratifying sublimation of all; it is one thing you don't have to leave the house to do – warm but not impressive underwear being the only requirement, apart from some talent.
I guess I inherited the idea of "professionalism" from my father. His deepest wish was to write for a living rather than work as a clerk in an embassy, and he thought that being paid was a higher accolade, and a more dependable and useful form of praise, than a good review, something any writer would agree with.
When I dropped out of the first university I attended, and my father was ill – and things were beginning to fall apart for me, almost before they'd begun – someone suggested they might be able to get me work in Fleet Street. I considered this, but knew even then that I could never be a journalist. Journalism didn't resemble in any way what I wanted to do. It was too functional; I thought it would dilute my style; and it was too quick for me.
Later, newspapers would call up with a request for a piece, often about a fascinating subject, and they'd want it overnight or in two and a half hours. I can write fast; I like to, it's sometimes the best way, charging ahead without hesitation or inhibition. But I have no interest in being continually under that kind of pressure; I panic, freeze and head for the pub.
The piece of writing I usually most enjoy doing is inevitably the thing I'm not supposed to be doing, so it can seem illicit. I like to work on something over a long period, returning to it repeatedly, adding, subtracting and altering, and taking advice from editors and friends, until I can't bear to look at it, which is when I guess it's done. Writing is highly labour intensive. It takes a lot of time – and much patient toleration of boredom, frustration and self-loathing – to achieve anything. Then you try to sell something to the world it doesn't know it needs.
Full piece at The Independent online.
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