The Domain of the Word
The domain of the written word is one of the least abstract: while the macro process of deciding on a story or theme is largely unknown, the product of the work has a specific and well-understood form (novel, play, poem, etc.) and the method by which this form is constructed (words and language) is governed by rules and conventions that can be bent, but not entirely broken if the finished work is to be at all comprehensible.
Moreover, the domain of the word is fundamental to most forms of creativity - as all other creative works may be described in the written word. A discovery in the physical science is more often spoken or written about than demonstrated. And in man instances, the "mental monologue" is a step in the creative process that is the first step in working in a meaningful way with nonverbal thoughts.
Words function as a recording method for events, such that those who are not present to witness the event can learn of it later. Words also function to make imaginary concepts, which could not be perceived with the senses, concrete. Perhaps their greatest power is in making accessible that which is undetectable - communicating the thoughts and feelings that make what we witness comprehensible.
Scientific and technical writing present observable facts alone - the reader absorbs the raw data and must make sense of it for himself, as if he bore witness to the events. On the other extreme, poetry writing uses sense data merely as a props in a work that is mostly intellectual and emotional, and in which the reader's intuition is fully engaged. All other forms of writing fall on a spectrum between the two.
It's also been observed that all the stories have already been told, and that there is nothing new to tell about. The work of the writer is in the telling - to place the sequence of events that constitute the plot into a thematic setting, and to tell his version of a story that has been told thousands of times before.
Bearing Witness
The author reports an interview wit ha poet, who describes his creative process as exploratory. He writes compulsively, just to get things out of his head and on paper. Much of his output is waste, and some of it has potential. He goes back to it later to revise - extracting the good bits and working them over. He never begins with a theme in mind, but lets it emerge.
He suggests that he is always at work - a constant inner monologue that he mulls over even when he is not writing it down. The most difficult part is revision, trying to shape it into poetry. His greatest struggle is when he gets too deeply involved in the work, trying too hard to force it to come out right. When that happens, it's best to take a break and come back to it later. The best work always seems to come easily.
He experiences "writers block" as long stretches of time when he produces nothing worth salvaging. It's agonizing and feels like a complete waste of time, but eventually the muse returns. Again, being frustrated and belaboring the words does not lead to quality results.
His actual work is a few hours a day - the rest of the time he is living his life. This is necessary, because if a poet withdraws from the world he loses touch with his subjects. Poetry is about the things you notice in everyday life.
The Haven of the Word
Another interviewee mentions poetry as an escape into an alternate realty as "a refuge from the brutish aspects of life" by imposing "the ordered meter of verse on the chaos" of experience. She had fled Germany before WWII, and tinkered with writing as a way to pass the time while living in exile for three decades.
It's mentioned that she was not formally educated, but having learned six different languages while living in different places, she became fascinated by language, comparing the nuances of meaning in words between the language and even within different cultures that spoke a common language.
As a woman in a domain dominated by men, she found it difficult to gain recognition - but maintained that attitude that there is intrinsic value in a good poem , regardless of the author, and that her work would be recognized for its own merit.
Another critical factor is her frankness, which is difficult to maintain in a world of superficial and dishonest people, and even more so in the affected world of academics, many of whom have failed to succeed as writers and are bitter and critical, desiring to suppress anyone who surpasses them.
There's brief mention of the act of creation as "a schizoid process" in which emotion furnishes the words, but the rational mind must work upon them.
Released by Style
Another profile features a poet who is known for a strict adherence to form as a method of escaping the randomness of reality. While it seems paradoxical, he finds the abstract rules of form to be liberating, in that they require focus and attention on the work rather than being faced with the confusion of "free" verse in which the poet has no guide or template to follow.
Mastering a form is a method of making order of things: the poet must filter and sort through the randomness of actual experience and fit it to an existing framework. It is, in essence, making order out of the chaos of life.
Working within forms also demonstrates the necessity of domain knowledge - this particular subject studied and memorized the work of many established poets as a method of learning the forms. He maintains that a poet cannot add to the domain of poetry unless he is thoroughly familiar with what already exists. "It takes a very long time to acquire the kind of sensibility that can make intelligent, sound discriminations: what's good and what's not good."
Adding to the World
Another profile mentions a prolific author, who has published a book each year for the past few decades.
There's a brief mention of an early interest in music, and she often plays piano to get "unstuck" when writing.
She mentions that she was "not very bright" as a student and had a bad knee, and as a result was "sunned" by teachers and her peers - and so spent a lot of time in solitary activities, such as writing and thinking. It wasn't until a college writing class that her talent was discovered and encouraged.
She mentions disillusionment with culture - the way that commercial messages set unrealistic expectations that purchasing the right things will lead to satisfaction and a happy life. In reality, life is a struggle to find peace among the chaos, and her books tend to follow this theme. Her notion is that her writing gives young readers a realistic sense of hope.
The author mentions that this is often quite common in literature: people write to "restore order to experience" whether in a directly autobiographical way or though an allegory. Writing is a method of dealing with one's own emotions, and when those emotions resound with others, a book is successful.
If a person is honest with herself, it becomes easy to diagnose what's wrong with their life, but diagnosing it is easier than curing it. Fiction provides a method of control: in the novel, the author controls what the character does and how others react. So what is done works out (or not) as planned and nothing unexpected gets in the way.
She attributes her success to struggling against the grain. Her books do not follow common themes, and often contain language and concepts that are deemed too difficult for a young audience. This made it difficult for her to achieve success in the publishing industry. Her first successful book took over two years to place with a publisher, and was often rejected. A maverick editor took a chance on publishing it, and it received great acclaim.