Novelist as a Vocation

by Haruki Murakami

I’m the type of person who whenever I like something and am interested in it, puts everything I have into it and goes all in. I never stop halfway, thinking, “That’s good enough.” I do it until I’m convinced I’ve got it. But unless something really grabs me, I can’t put my heart into it. Or, more precisely, I just can’t work up the desire to do so. I’ve always been that way, clearly washing my hands of things that didn’t hold my interest. If somebody orders me to do something (especially somebody above me), I’ll do a perfunctory job at best.

I say this because a novelist is a person who steadily fills his head with a world of his own. When I was in class, I didn’t pay much attention to the lesson, and instead was lost in all sorts of daydreams.

Being content with where you are and staying in one place (“place” in a metaphoric sense) means your creative urge will atrophy and eventually be lost.