How I became a writer

Author's name: Paul Auster

The extraordinary thing about the writing process, whatever its genre—poetry, fiction, or otherwise—is that you actually lose yourself by immersing yourself entirely in the work you're writing. This is a fine thing, except that you don't fully feel or understand it. I mean, a writer can become so engrossed in writing that they become oblivious to their own feelings, independent of what they're writing. In this state, the writer is immersed in the inner music of the work they're composing, at one with it, beyond any other emotional state.

I believe that writing is a form of musical composition for sounds. Therefore, for me, since the paragraph is the unit of composition in a novel, the verse is the unit of composition in a poem. Accordingly, I work on the paragraph until I feel it has matured and possesses appropriate musical rhythms, perfect balance, and skillfully crafted moments of unexpected suspense.

Paul Auster, a renowned American novelist, began his career as a translator of French literature before carving out a remarkable career for himself with solid works translated into several languages. Auster has received numerous awards, most notably the American Academy of Arts and Letters Award.

In this article, he talked about prosody, Al-Khalil’s work, and the method of constructing melody. He then proceeded to explain the state of Al-Khalil’s circles, summarizing his words. When he finished all his articles between the years 1969 and 1970, he returned after a while and resumed his work, continuing to explain Al-Khalil’s work and trying to deduce the path by which Al-Khalil paved his way in explaining and constructing the science of prosody. This work, which Professor Mahmoud, may God have mercy on him, conducted, is based on pure appreciation for the eloquence of Arabic and the eloquence of its melody hidden beneath its words, cloaked in ancient poetry from ancient ages in Arabic, not as Al-Jahiz said before that the age of Arabic poetry does not exceed two hundred years at most.