What counsel has proved most valuable to you?

It goes back to that music teacher when I was 12 years old. After the third lesson, I was singing some popular country song of the day. I forget the name. I think it was a Hank Williams, no, it was too early for Hank Williams, I guess. Whatever the song was, I didn’t sing it like the artist had sung it on the radio. And she said, “You’re a song stylist.” She said, “Always do it your way.” And from the age of 12, I didn’t forget that.

The one thing that I learned from Clint, of the many things I learned from Clint, is to always trust your instinct, and don’t think about it too much.

I think some of the best advice I got as a young session musician — the first time I played on something — they came back and said, “Now just play me half of what you know. Okay, that was impressive, but that’s not what I need here.” So it’s really an exercise on what’s best going to serve the work in front of you, what’s the job that will do that the best.

Well, I remember Steven Spielberg was incredibly informed about lenses and technical things, and that made him very instinctive in terms of how he directed: “Do it quicker, faster, something’s not right.” He is totally spontaneous, he doesn’t try to measure his direction but it’s very true, it’s very direct and for that reason, very exciting.

Harold Prince went to see it and he wrote me a letter saying don’t be discouraged about this because actually there’s some quite good songs in here. But he also said something which stayed with me all my life, which is that you can’t listen to a musical if you can’t look at it, by which he was actually saying that the designs for Jeeves were absolutely hideous.

Right, I went back as a mature student to art school, and I was advised to use my train journeys and commutes, or to just take time in the morning before work to sit down and write something. That was, I think, the beginnings of understanding what it meant to have a writing practice.

“What sound does that color make?” Yeah, that was a question of hers in fifth grade. And I was like, “Well, colors don’t have sound.” And eventually, she said, “You know red sounds different than blue.” And I, “Yeah, red sounds angry, blue sounds —” And so she was pushing me into, “Here’s your simile, here’s your metaphor. This is all you’re going to need. Run, my child.”

It became such a big part of my life that even when I sleep in past 6 o'clock in the morning, I feel guilty because I hear my father's voice saying, you know, Arnold, that's not how this country was built, by sleeping in. Be useful. Do something. What are you doing now?

The best advice I got from a painter friend of mine when I said, “If you had one thing to say to an aspiring artist like myself, what would you say?” And she said, “Make as many mistakes as you can.”

Harris taught me a lot in that way. Another piece of advice from him was: “Don’t be afraid if your initial plan is not the best plan.” Say you’ve spent all this time and resources in one way, and all of a sudden this little simple idea comes up — do that! Don’t get trapped! Keep your eyes always open.