Jennifer Higgie

How did you become a writer? By being a reader. I trained as an artist and came to London from Australia on a painting fellowship. I was struggling with making pictures, and being anonymous in London somehow gave me the freedom to explore the written word in a way I didn’t have the confidence to do back home, as I was never very academic. I turned to writing as a way of working through my confusion with the world; also, it seemed a better option than waitressing, which I did on and off for about 15 years. I learned on the job when I joined frieze magazine after writing a few pieces for them. I was utterly unqualified, but being surrounded by a group of talented writers and editors was endlessly inspiring and editing other people’s work taught me a lot about my own. Also, having to write fast and hit deadlines meant learning not to muck about. It took me a long time to acknowledge that I was a writer, a calling I’ve always been in awe of. 

Name your writing influences. There are so many, but Robert Hughes was the first art historian I read who could bring an image alive through words. Even when I didn’t agree with him, his prose opened my mind to the possibilities of what language can do. It was a revelation. Griselda Pollock's books made me aware of the structural exclusions of art history and challenged me to rethink everything I had previously assumed was carved in stone. Writing by artists, in particular Louise Bourgeois and Agnes Martin, showed me that art and writing could respond to each other with a reciprocal imaginative flourish.

When and where do you write? These days either in bed or the library but my magazine training means that I can pretty much write anywhere. 

What are you working on now? A mix of essays for artist’s catalogues, and the seed of an idea for my next book, which is gradually blooming (she said hopefully).

Have you ever suffered from writer’s block? No. As someone who lives off writing, it’s a luxury I can’t afford. 

What’s the best writing advice you’ve ever received? Be very disciplined. Don't get precious about it, just do it. No-one apart from you will read the first draft, so take risks, be stupid, play around – amid the dross, something will sparkle. Read what you’ve written out loud. Be rampantly self-critical, but not to the point that it stops you writing. If you're stuck, read something wonderful – other writers have been there before you, and they can show you the way. 

What’s your advice to new writers? Only do it if you can’t imagine doing anything else. And read, read, read. 

Jennifer Higgie is an Australian writer who lives in London. Previously the editor of frieze magazine, her latest book is The Other Side: A Story of Women, Art and the Spirit World. She is also the author of The Mirror & The Palette: Rebellion, Resilience and Resistance: 500 Years of Women’s Self Portraits (2021), the author and illustrator of the children’s book There’s Not One; the editor of The Artist’s Joke and the author of Bedlam, a novel about the 19th century fairy painter, Richard Dadd. Her website is jenniferhiggie.com.

Jahmal Mayfield

How did you become a writer? I’m fond of saying “reader first, writer second” on my social media platforms, and it’s quite true. I remember devouring George Pelecanos’ novel, RIGHT AS RAIN, back in 2001. It was a transformative experience for me because here was a Greek man writing Black characters with, I believed, such verisimilitude. They came alive on the page. After finishing that novel, I wanted nothing more than to do something similar. 

Name your writing influences. Obviously, George Pelecanos, but also Dennis Lehane, Walter Mosley, James Lee Burke, Don Winslow, and so many crime writers I can’t even begin to mention them all. Musically, Nas, who has always told impactful stories in his songs while also emphasizing the poetic beauty of words and how they can elevate you when placed together in a meaningful way. 

When and where do you write? On my couch, in my car, swivel chair in my home office. Almost always late at night when the world around me is quiet and doesn’t interfere with me listening to music playing softly in the background. I draft by longhand on yellow legal pads. This slows me down and forces me to write with intention. Transcribing those words into the computer also provides me with a built-in second draft, as I inevitably make changes during that time. 

What are you working on now? I don’t want to divulge too much, as I’m in the early stages and would hate to talk myself out of the enthusiasm you need to finish a project. I will say, it follows what I’ve determined will be my “brand.” It’s gritty, crime fiction, written with a Black gaze, and dealing with social commentary. In this case, racially motivated mass shootings. 

Have you ever suffered from writer’s block? Probably, but I refuse to admit as much because that can be defeating. During those times when the words simply aren’t flowing, I’ll allow my mind to drift in ways that can still benefit the story. I might imagine a piece of dialogue that I know will happen at some point in the manuscript. Or attempt to answer a nagging question about a character’s motivations. Or search Google for interesting possibilities for character names. What this does is wire my brain to understand that, okay, yes, I’m not actively writing, but I most certainly am working on the manuscript. 

What’s the best writing advice you’ve ever received? “Write with the door closed, rewrite with the door open.” Hat tip to the prolific Stephen King for that one. It acknowledges, and in fact cements the notion that a first draft is all about the writer. Whether we realize it or not, that first draft is borne mostly of our experiences and worldview. The edit, at least a thoughtful edit, welcomes the outside world and other ideas and experiences. That’s crucial, because if every character in my novels ends up being some facsimile of me, then I haven’t written an honest book. I want to write honest books. 

What’s your advice to new writers? Be a reader first, a writer second. Fall in love with the work of others and then interrogate their texts to understand why you loved it. Then take that understanding and apply it in your own unique way. No one else can write the book the way that you will. Embrace that knowledge, lean into it, and you will be the greatest of commodities. You'll be original.

Jahmal Mayfield was born in Virginia but currently resides in New Jersey. In addition to writing crime fiction, he serves as the director of a nonprofit program that provides employment support to people with disabilities. SMOKE KINGS was inspired by Kimberly Jones’ passionate viral video, “How can we win?”

Elizabeth Flock

How did you become a writer? As a kid, books were my refuge. I told stories to myself all the time in the tub. I wrote all my life and finally entered publishing by way of journalism. I figured it was the only way to get paid to write! And I had a strong interest in social issues and untold stories. A decade in, I found narrative journalism -- a wonderful hybrid between deep reporting and novelistic writing. That's what I do now, writing mostly stories related to justice and gender issues.

Name your writing influences. Adrian Nicole LeBlanc's "Random Family," Katherine Boo's "Behind the Beautiful Forevers," and Sonia Faleiro's magazine pieces and books are all masterclasses in immersive writing / narrative nonfiction. 

When and where do you write? I write on my laptop anywhere and everywhere. I don't write well at desks. I finished THE FURIES while I was very sick from being pregnant, so I was on the couch for a lot of that. Sometimes I even edit best on my phone. I'm a firm believer in writing from wherever you are comfortable, at the times you seem to work best. For me, that's from 11am-4pm, when I'm fully caffeinated. I find the pomodoro method helps me get into deep focus in a world that's rife with distractions. I do 45 minutes of writing -- with no phone or internet or other distractions -- then take a 15 minute break, then do 45 more minutes, and continue on that way as long as I can. 

What are you working on now? I am adapting a narrative piece I wrote for The Economist's 1843 Magazine about two women who sabotaged a pipeline into a documentary film. I am also noodling over my next narrative nonfiction book project. I am very interested in writing about the fine line between loneliness and being alone with yourself, and also the relationship between motherhood and the climate.

Have you ever suffered from writer’s block? With journalism, I don't think writer's block is as much of a problem as in novel writing. The world is full of people and places asking to be written about. The bigger problem is how to tell it and what to leave out. I find that I am like a hoarder in my book projects -- collecting all the information and details I can -- and then spending a lot of time plotting out the most compelling, interesting and telling scenes. It is sometimes hard to know what to leave on the cutting room floor. The most fun is figuring out how to tell it. These days, journalists can tell their stories in books, magazine pieces, podcasts, documentaries or even fiction films.

What’s the best writing advice you’ve ever received? Somewhere along the way, I heard that a book is the answer to a question to which a writer desperately wants the answer. My first book was driven by the question of what makes marriages work or fail. My second book, THE FURIES, which just came out, was a quest to understand whether violence can be useful, what constitutes self-defense, and what happens when institutions fail to protect women.  

What’s your advice to new writers? Follow your interests, as weird as they may be. If you are interested in a subject, someone else will be too. Write the book you wish existed. Don't stop writing until, as a professor one told me, you're circling back on yourself, moving periods and commas around, coming back to the same scenes again and again, like a serpent eating its tail.

Elizabeth Flock is a journalist who reports on gender and issue and the author of THE FURIES, which tells the story of three real-life women who used violence to fight back.