"In order for a long piece of work to engage a novelist over an extended period of time, it has to deal with questions that you find very important, that you're trying to work out"
About this Quote
The line is a quiet rebuke to the fantasy that big novels are built on “inspiration” alone. Donna Tartt frames the long book less as a feat of productivity than as an act of obsession: a multi-year relationship with a problem you can’t stop turning over. It’s craft advice, but it’s also self-portrait. Tartt’s famously slow output (three novels across decades) has often been read as preciousness; here she recasts it as necessity. You don’t stay with a project that long unless it’s feeding on something unresolved in you.
The intent is pragmatic. A novel is too large a structure to be held up by plot mechanics or a clever premise; those wear out. What lasts is an argument with yourself that keeps generating new angles. The subtext is almost therapeutic, but not in a soft way. “Questions” are not cute prompts; they’re knots. Tartt implies that endurance on the page comes from intellectual and moral pressure, the sense that a story is a laboratory for testing what you believe about guilt, beauty, class, violence, friendship, faith.
Context matters: Tartt’s books are immersive and old-fashioned in their ambition, written against an era that rewards speed, constant visibility, and content churn. Her comment defends slowness as an aesthetic principle, even an ethical one. The work doesn’t merely entertain over time; it must keep the writer honestly engaged, which is her way of saying the reader’s engagement is downstream from the author’s private stake. If the author isn’t trying to “work out” something real, the novel’s length becomes bloat.
The intent is pragmatic. A novel is too large a structure to be held up by plot mechanics or a clever premise; those wear out. What lasts is an argument with yourself that keeps generating new angles. The subtext is almost therapeutic, but not in a soft way. “Questions” are not cute prompts; they’re knots. Tartt implies that endurance on the page comes from intellectual and moral pressure, the sense that a story is a laboratory for testing what you believe about guilt, beauty, class, violence, friendship, faith.
Context matters: Tartt’s books are immersive and old-fashioned in their ambition, written against an era that rewards speed, constant visibility, and content churn. Her comment defends slowness as an aesthetic principle, even an ethical one. The work doesn’t merely entertain over time; it must keep the writer honestly engaged, which is her way of saying the reader’s engagement is downstream from the author’s private stake. If the author isn’t trying to “work out” something real, the novel’s length becomes bloat.
Quote Details
| Topic | Writing |
|---|---|
| Source | Help us find the source |
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