RG: My answer here is quite simple. I tend to write in a condensed form: in fragments, in aphorisms, in blocks. For this kind of work you have to be prepared, you have to have certain ideas of what you expect to say (the “necessity” element). But then, suddenly, you get inspired, and you are able to “realize” your work “immediately,” you are able to place the right words in the right time, like in music. That’s the second phase, the writing itself. The third phase is when you already have enough material, and you can “play” with it to gradually shape the final structure into which it all fits.

FG: So you’re delineating three steps in your process: preparation, writing/work, and play. Play coming last might surprise some people. Which step is the most difficult for you? How do you deal with that difficulty?

RG: The most difficult is writing itself—what is before it is not too far from what is after it. In that sense there is an “ecstatic element” in what I write. And because we can’t experience the ecstatic perpetually, we need to be prepared for it—so later it would help us to recognize what had happened “inside” of it. Meanings are usually inherent to what is written, but not always. When they are not, you have to find the “secondary inherencies” by structuring the whole material anew. That’s play. But that’s work at the same time.

Interview with Róbert Gál