A Few Minutes with Paul Auster
From an Interview with Joseph Mallia:
...[If} there is one thing we all hate in books, it's losing interest, feeling bored, not caring about the next sentence. In the end, you don't only write the books you need to write, but you write the books you would like to read yourself.
JM: Is there a method to it?
PA: No. The deeper I get into my own work, the less engaging theoretical problems have become. When you look back on the works that have moved you, you find that they have always been written out of some kind of necessity. There's something calling out to you, some human call, that makes you want to listen to the work. In the end, it has probably very little to do with literature.
George Bataille wrote about this in his Le Bleu du Ciel. I refer to it in The Art of Hunger, in a essay on the schizophrenic [Louis] Wolfson. He said that every real book comes from a moment of rage, and then he asked: 'How can we read works that we don't feel compelled to read?' I believe he is absolutely correct: there is always some indefinable something that makes you attend to a writer's work––you can never put your finger on it, but that something is what makes all the difference.
From Paul Auster, The Red Notebook: True Stories, Prefaces and Interviews (Faber & Faber, 1995), pp. 112-113.