Novelist as a Vocation

by Haruki Murakami

novelists.

their dispositions tend to be idiosyncratic and their lifestyles and general behavior frankly odd.

Writers are basically an egoistic breed, proud and highly competitive.

The thing that makes novels different is that practically anybody can write one if they put their mind to it.

People can theorize all they want, but when you get right down to it, the novel’s form is extremely broad.

In short, the world of the novelist is like a professional wrestling ring that welcomes anyone who feels like taking a crack at it.

The gap between the ropes is big enough to pass through, and a step is provided to make your entrance easier. The ring is spacious.

The wrestlers who are already there—the established novelists, in other words—are at the very least resigned to your presence: “No worries—come on up a...

While entering the ring may be easy, however, remaining there for long is hard.

It’s not that difficult to write a novel, maybe even two. But it’s another thing altogether to keep producing, to live off one’s writing, to survive.

Intinya adalqh semua orang bisa dengan mudah menjadi seorang novelis—menulis novel— barang satu atau dua novel tapi yang sulit adalah mempertahankan konsistensi untuk membuat sebuah karya/novel dalam jangka waktu panjang dan untuk survive di dunia sebagai novelis.

Like so many things in life, luck and fate play a big role, too.

But there is something else that is needed, a kind of qualification.

The way I see it, people with brilliant minds are not particularly well suited to writing novels.

In my considered opinion, anyone with a quick mind or an inordinately rich store of knowledge is unlikely to become a novelist. That is because the writing of a novel, or the telling of a story, is an activity that takes place at a slow pace—in low gear, so to speak.

Novel writing is indeed a most inefficient undertaking, consisting of repeating “for instance” over and over.

An extreme way of putting it is that novelists might be defined as a breed who feel the need, in spite of everything, to do that which is unnecessary.

Novelists sit cloistered in their rooms, intently fiddling with words, batting around one possibility after another.

No one applauds, or says “Well done,” or pats them on the back. Sitting there alone, they look over what they’ve accomplished and quietly nod to themselves.

That is what novel writing is really all about. It is time-consuming, tedious work.

A novelist, however, sees the idea of “a leisurely life” as practically synonymous with “the waning of one’s creativity.” For novelists are like certain types of fish. If they don’t keep swimming forward, they die.

A tenacious, persevering temperament that equips them to work long and lonely hours. It is my belief that these are the qualifications required of a professional novelist.

It’s not difficult to write a single novel. Even a very good novel, depending on who you are. It isn’t easy to pull off, but it’s not impossible.

What’s really hard is to keep on writing novels year after year. That’s not somet...

So how do you discover if you have what it takes to be a novelist?

There is only one answer: you have to jump in the water and see if you sink or swim.

I decided that I wanted to open a jazz café, a place that served coffee, drinks, and some food. I was totally absorbed by jazz back then

We also borrowed money from everyone we could think of. In the end, we had a sufficient amount to open a café near the south exit of Kokubunji Station in western Tokyo. The year was 1974.

Now I am not suggesting that the more hardship you endure the better off you will be. If you manage to get through this life without suffering, so much the better.

Nevertheless, if you are dealing with adverse conditions and the painful thoughts that come in their wake, you should take it from me that what you’re going through now may bear fruit down the road.

I grew up in a quiet suburb in the Kobe and Osaka district without either causing or experiencing any special problems, and managed to do so-so in school without working very hard.

One thing I always loved, though, was reading.

I entered Waseda University in Tokyo in the late 1960s at the peak of the student protests; the university was shut down and the gates closed for long stretches while I was there.

Words have power. Yet that power must be rooted in truth and justice. Words must never stand apart from those principles.

Life might have been hectic and things might have been rough, but the joy I took in books and music never wavered.

One bright April afternoon in 1978, I attended a baseball game at Jingu Stadium in downtown Tokyo.

In that instant, and based on no grounds whatsoever, it suddenly struck me: I think I can write a novel.

I can still recall the exact sensation. It was as if something had come fluttering down from the sky and I had caught it cleanly in my hands.

I had no idea why it had chanced to fall into my grasp. I didn’t know then, and I don’t know now. Whatever the reason, it had taken place. It was like a revel...

Thus I had no idea what kind of Japanese literature was being read at the time or how I should write fiction in the Japanese language.

I pulled out my old Olivetti typewriter from the closet. Then, as an experiment, I decided to write the opening of my novel in English.

Ultimately, I learned that there was no need for a lot of difficult words—I didn’t have to try to impress people with beautiful turns of phrase.

Then I sat down and “translated” the chapter or so that I had written in English into Japanese. Well, “transplanted” might be more accurate, since it wasn’t a direct verbatim translation.

inevitably, a new style of Japanese emerged. The style that became mine, one that I had discovered.

Dengan keinginannya/keyakinannya Murakami ingin menulis novel saat menonton pertandingan Baseball.. Murakami, tanpa mengetahui bagaimana cara menulis– lieteratur Jepang– mencoba mulai menulis, sempat putus asa karena merasa dirinya tidak berabakat, ia mencoba menulis dalam bahasa Inggris meskipun dirinya tau bahasa Inggrishya terbatas. Justru ia kemudian menemukan gayanya menulis saat ia menuliskan novel dalam Bahasa Inggris dan kemudian menerjemahkannya ke bahasa Jepang. (Pretty funny tho, he's a japanese but he translated his novel from english to japan)

What I was seeking by writing first in English and then “translating” into Japanese was no less than the creation of an unadorned “neutral” style that would allow me freer movement.

Writing in my new style felt more like performing music than composing literature, a feeling that stays with me today.

It was as if the words were coming through my body instead of from my head.

Such moments are pure bliss. To tell the truth, I have never found writing painful. Neither (thankfully) have I ever found myself unable to write.

Wow... it really is a bless..

What’s the point of writing, anyway, if you’re not enjoying it?

I think that it’s possible that the two books are actually better precisely because I was working at only twenty or thirty percent of my full capacity.

At any rate, I was dissatisfied with a lot of things in those first two works.