The story was writing itself and I was having a hard time keeping up with it.
Interpretation
The creative process often unfolds in unexpected ways, requiring the artist to adapt quickly.
This quote by Ernest Hemingway reflects the dynamic nature of creativity and the experience of an artist as they engage with their work. It suggests that while the artist initiates the process of creation, the story or artwork takes on a life of its own, flowing with its own momentum and leading the creator to chase after ideas and inspiration that emerge spontaneously.
In practice
In a creative writing workshop to encourage students to embrace their ideas.
He no longer dreamed of storms, nor of women, nor of great occurrences, nor of great fish, nor fights, nor contests of strength, nor of his wife. He only dreamed of places now and the lions on the beach. They played like young cats in the dusk and he loved them as he loved the boy. He never dreamed about the boy. He simply woke, looked out the open door at the moon and unrolled his trousers and put them on.
How did you go bankrupt?" Two ways. Gradually, then suddenly.
When you have shot one bird flying you have shot all birds flying. They are all different and they fly in different ways but the sensation is the same and the last one is as good as the first.
There is never any ending to Paris and the memory of each person who has lived in it differs from that of any other. We always returned to it no matter who we were or how it was changed or with what difficulties, or ease, it could be reached. Paris was always worth it and you received return for whatever you brought to it. But this is how Paris was in the early days when we were very poor and very happy.
Wine is the most civilized thing in the world.
There is no rule on how to write. Sometimes it comes easily and perfectly; sometimes it's like drilling rock and then blasting it out with charges.
What use having a great depth of field, if there is not an adequate depth of feeling?
If you want to be a psychological novelist and write about human beings, the best thing you can do is keep a pair of cats.
Hot weather opens the skull of a city, exposing its white brain, and its heart of nerves, which sizzle like the wires inside a lightbulb. And there exudes a sour extra-human smell that makes the very stone seem flesh-alive, webbed and pulsing.
The magic of the music seems to light the way.
When I paint a person, his enemies always find the portrait a good likeness.
There will be no new music until it's good enough and until I'm ready.
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