Author Interview with Kay Kauffman

SN: Sisters Noire (unless otherwise indicated, interviews conducted by Ed Evans).
KK: Kay Kauffman.

 

 

SN: Could you give us a little bit of background on you?

 

KK: By day, I’m a mild-mannered legal secretary.  By night, I wrangle words (and sometimes kids).  I’ve been spinning yarns of every kind for years – I don’t remember a time when I didn’t write.  The kids I wrangle?  There are four of them.  They keep my husband and me on our toes…and occasionally out of our minds.

 

SN: Generally what genre or genres does your work fall under?

 

KK: I’ve got a novel on submission called The Lokana Chronicles.  It’s a fantasy novel, but I’ve written in other genres, too.  I’ve dabbled in horror and post-apocalypse, both of which are not things I normally write, although I do enjoy reading horror (R.L. Stine’s Goosebumps and Fear Street series were childhood favorites).  I’ve also taken a stab at writing chick lit, though that was mostly confined to my hormone-fueled teenage years (why, yes, it is completely normal for world-famous boy bands to be wandering around some little-bitty piss-ant country town in the middle of the night and not be swarmed by screaming teenage girls).  Thankfully, I’ve learned a lot since then, although buried deep within those early novels – you know, underneath all the many and varied layers of crap – exist a nugget of coal worth polishing someday when my kids are all grown and I might realistically expect to have an hour or two to myself in which to polish said coal into diamonds.  Or at least polish them into something more than turds, anyway. :)

I’ve dabbled in poetry for as long as I can remember, favoring free verse and haiku over other forms, although I love sonnets and am determined to someday master the form.  I’ve written a few pieces of (awful) music for the flute, which I used to play passably well, and I did a stint as a journalist, among other things, for my local newspaper the summer after college.  I enjoyed that, but the hours were long, the pay was miserable, and the summer was hot.  The writing and the other two employees I worked with on a daily basis were great fun, though, especially as one was one of my best friends.

 

SN: I see you have written several short stories, can you tell me about these?

 

KK: I started writing short stories in order to work on getting to the point.  Brevity and I are not friends, you see.  I wanted to make my writing stronger by eliminating some of the unnecessary words in it, so I started by trying to write short stories.  I joined Twitter as an extension of this exercise, actually, but that’s another story.

Anyway, most of my short stories have been of the chick lit variety as romance was something I was sorely missing when I began this particular experiment.  They all pretty much follow the old boy meets girl, boy screws up, boy wins girl over in the end formula, only with the boy and girl roles reversed most of the time.

Then I joined Authonomy, a writing website run by HarperCollins.  I stumbled upon a forum thread called The Alliance of Worldbuilders, which I happily joined (we’re on our third thread now because we kept crashing the servers – the first thread was over 2000 pages long by quite a bit), and one of the regulars pointed me to a weekly flash fiction competition.  Last October they did a theme for the month, which was a departure from their normal anything-goes-so-long-as-it’s-under-1,000-words policy, and that’s when I started in with the horror writing.  I think I definitely improved my horror writing skills over the course of the month, but I’m still not sure that they’re all that great.  I think I’ll stick to reading horror and leave the writing of it to Stephen King.  He seems to know what he’s doing.

 

SN: Are you writing at the moment?

 

KK: I’m not writing much at the moment, except for blog posts and the odd poem.  Right now I’m working on a major revision of The Lokana Chronicles, as I’ve had a request from someone who wants to see the full manuscript, but they want me to make some serious revisions to it first.  The revisions they want will make the story stronger, so I’m happy to make them, but it’s a lot of work and with limited writing time, it means that caffeine – in any form I can get my hands on it – is my new best friend.  I’m eager to be done with the revisions so that I can move on to a new project, although I’m not sure what that will be just yet.  I’ve been toying with the idea of doing another project within Lokana, but I’ve also been toying with the idea of reworking one of those older manuscripts I mentioned earlier, even if it does mean a major, major rewrite.

 

SN: What inspired you to start writing?

 

KK: I really don’t know.  I remember when I was in second or third grade (I’d have been about eight) that there was this really neat diary (journal) in the school book order and I begged my mom to let me get it.  She ordered it for me and when it came, I was so excited that I went straight to my room and started writing in it.  I think I wrote all of three entries in it before it got left in the window seat with a balloon that promptly melted all over it, ruining the cover.  I never did fill all the pages, but I’ve been writing ever since.

A year or so later, we were assigned to write a story in school.  We had to illustrate them and everything in these blank hardcover books – I still have mine at home.  The teacher had them available in the school library for other students to check out; it was kind of a big deal.  She evidently thought mine was pretty good for an nine-year-old because she entered it into the University of Northern Iowa Young Writer’s Workshop that year.  A year later, my mom passed away and I used writing to cope.  I found that story in a box of old things and when I read it to my kids, I was surprised by how good it was.  I mean, it wasn’t a literary masterpiece or anything – it was called The Paperpunch Monster – but it wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought it was going to be.

 

SN: Can you share a little of your work with us?

 

KK: The following is an excerpt from Chapter 4 of The Lokana Chronicles.  Vegin, the Crown Prince of Lokana, has just returned from an outlying village, where he secured the hand of the woman he loves.  His parents, however, have arranged his marriage to the daughter of a wealthy nobleman and he returns from the home of his beloved’s parents to find out what lies in store for him:

 

“I had a wonderful evening, Vegin,” Amarah replied as they entered the library.

 

Tol and Enya exchanged elated smiles at Amarah’s remark.  Her mother, Danalla, was beside herself with excitement and her father’s face shone with relief.  “You two were certainly gone a long time,” Tol said.  “Did you get to know each other?”

 

“We did, Father.  And I still refuse to marry her.”

 

“You what?” the king roared after a moment of stunned silence.

 

“And I won’t marry him, either,” Amarah declared.

 

“What?” Arkin sputtered, his voice three octaves higher than normal.

 

“You just said you had a wonderful evening!” Danalla exclaimed.

 

“And I did.  Toqarnna Vegin is very nice, but I’m in love with Tornna.”

 

“Oh, not this again,” Arkin sighed.  “Amarah, we’ve been over this a thousand times.  That boy isn’t suitable for you!”

 

“Why not?  Because he’s not a prince?”  Amarah blushed as Vegin threw her a wry grin.  “Tornna is a good man, Father, and I’ll marry none other.”

 

“Your Highnesses, I apologize most sincerely for my daughter’s impudent behavior,” Arkin said, attempting damage control as he tried to hold himself together.  “I hope it won’t interfere with our agreement.”  He shot Amarah an icy glare.  “If you’ll excuse us, I need to have a word with my daughter.”  Though he led Amarah out of the room, much of their conversation was heard inside the library.

 

Danalla, having been left behind by her husband, looked as uncomfortable as everyone else felt.  “Do excuse me,” she nearly whispered as she quickly fled the room.

 

Once she had gone, Vegin seized the opportunity to discuss his feelings.  “Clearly she doesn’t want to marry me,” he began.

 

“She’s young and foolish.  She doesn’t know what she wants,” Tol said, irritated.  This wasn’t going at all the way he had planned.

 

“Don’t be so sure of that,” Enya said, a far-off look in her eye as she recalled her own youth.  “When we married, I wanted nothing to do with you, remember?  I had the same conversation with my parents that Amarah is having with hers.  I was wrong, of course, and so is she.  After all, parents do want what is best for their children and I know she will love you in the end, dear.  How could she not?”

 

“You really think it’s best for me to marry a complete stranger who has sworn to love another?  What possible good could come of that?”

 

“But she will love you one day, darling, I know it.  After all, I learned to love your father.”

 

Tol and Vegin both gaped in surprise at the queen, who was not normally so outspoken.  Tol was the first to speak as annoyance quickly replaced his shock.  “We haven’t the time for this right now, woman!  Vegin, the future of the monarchy is at stake here and I’ll not have you toying with me.”

 

“I am not toying with you, Father.  I will not marry Amarah.  She is in love with someone else and so am I.”

 

“Yes, yes, Leto, isn’t that her name?  Who is she?  Where is she from?” Tol demanded, leaving unasked the question he was most interested in having answered.

 

“Her name is Lipei.  She is from the House of Tolhana near Tobali.  She is the most wonderful being Kiala ever put on this earth and she is the only woman I will ever marry.”

 

“An Outlier?” Tol and Enya exclaimed in unison.  “You can’t be serious!” Enya added, horrified.  “Why, they’re barely civilized!”

 

“No son of mine is marrying a filthy peasant,” Tol declared.  “They’re at the heart of all the trouble in the kingdom.  I forbid you to see that girl again!”

 

“The Outliers aren’t the ones responsible for all the trouble, Father, you are!  They’re starving to death out there and you won’t lift a finger to help them.  What do you expect them to do?  You’ve left them no other choice but to revolt and if I were in their position, I would rebel, too.  I will marry Lipei, Outlier or not, and nothing you can say or do will stop me!” Vegin declared and stormed out of the library.

 

Tol threw his hands up in fury and glared at his wife.  “He’s your son!”

 

“Funny, I was about to say the same to you,” she retorted as her husband turned on his heel and followed their son from the room.

 

SN: What aspect of the writing process do you find most difficult and what do you do to try to combat this?

 

KK: Brevity.  Packing as big a punch with as few words as possible has never been a strong suit of mine, but I’m working on it.  Editing is also hard, but it’s worth it in the end.  I’m good at editing, but most of the time when I’m working on revising a project, I feel like I’m beating my head against a wall trying to get things to work.  I’m stubborn, so I don’t like to quit until I’m sure that it’s right (I strive for perfection, but I realize that it’s an unattainable goal, so I settle for right).

To combat these difficulties, I practice.  I’ve tried to hone my “Get to the point, already!” skills by joining Twitter, where if you can’t say what you want to say in 140 characters or less, well, you’d better figure out another way to say it, son, and by writing short stories.  Writing short stories led to writing flash fiction and, after writing flash fiction, I now have trouble writing short stories with 5,000-word limits without making the story feel ridiculously drawn out.  I think my experiment in honing my brevity skills has thus far been successful.

My husband has been immensely helpful in assisting my editing process.  My aforementioned attempt at writing post-apocalypse resulted in much hair-pulling (mine, not his), but the story was ultimately better for it and it’s due to be published sometime this year by Portmanteau Press in an anthology of short fiction.  It was supposed to be out this spring, but due to unforeseen circumstances, the publication date has been pushed back.  I can’t wait to hold that shiny, pretty book in my hands and squee like a teenage girl at a Bieber concert.

 

SN: Thank you Kay.

 

You can find Kay Kauffman on –

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Suddenly they all died, Kay’s blog.

An interview with Dawn Rodgers

SN: Sisters Noire (unless otherwise indicated, interviews conducted by Ed Evans).

DR: Dawn Rodgers

 
SN: Hello Dawn. Could you give us a little bit of background on you?
DR: I’ve been writing novels since 1988 and had some success with writing competitions, but not had enough luck to get a publisher or agent interested.  I’ve self published a poetry book called Shuddersfield which is a poetry, prose and photographic book on my local town of Huddersfield.  I’ve also written a book of new words called the Anti-definitionary.

 

SN: Please briefly explain what it is you write.
DR: I mainly write novels, poems and songs.

 

SN: Generally what genre or genres does your work fall under?
DR: I mostly write sci-fi and fantasy novels, one fantasy for children and a Gothic comedy novel.  I’m currently writing folk songs as a break from novel writing.

 

SN: You mentioned that you have run weekend writing workshops, can you explain a little more about them?
DR: The writing workshops were all day events which included writing exercises on different subjects, then reading sessions and chats during breaks where we shared food.  I’ve not done any for a while but was thinking of starting them up again if I can get a good local venue.

 

SN: What inspired you to start writing?
DR: I believe that I’ve always been a writer, but couldn’t express my imagination until I learned to write.  I wrote my first scifi story when I was 8.  Since then I’m so full of ideas that I have to write them down to get them out of my head.

 

SN: What are your favourite books/films/TV shows and have they influenced your writing?
DR: I was an avid sci-fi fan as a child (and still am!) and was influenced by fantastic TV shows (Doctor Who & Blake’s 7 and Robin of Sherwood for that mystical element) and writers such as Harlan Ellison, Storm Constantine, Tanith Lee, Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman.  For films it would be things like Bladerunner and Logan’s Run, but I do like blockbusters too.

 

SN: Do you have a specific writing style?
DR: I must have but I’m not sure what it could be described as, except that it is very dark and descriptive.  I tend to take normal stories and twist them and I never do happy endings, it never works out like that.  New Weird is possibly what it could be called, a mixture of urban modern chaos with very old fairy tales mixed in.

 

SN: Can you share a little of your work with us?
DR: Excerpt from my SciFi novel ‘Everybodies’ –

He could still see her pale pink eyes, as she fell away from him.  She hadn’t jumped, she had just stepped backwards off the roof of the building, and even though he was only a whisper away, he couldn’t reach her.
Operative William Haych found himself lying flat, his upper torso hanging half over the edge, his arms stretched out.  He was grabbing at nothing.  He blamed it on his age slowing him down, the aches that wouldn’t go away.  Her eyes were wide open, staring up at him.  There was a calm look on her face that met Haych’s panicked stare.  The distance between them stretched.

    He closed his blue eyes and tried hard not to imagine the sound of her head cracking on the concrete far below him, but he couldn’t help himself.
The worry lines on his forehead momentarily formed deeper ridges, the folded skin knitting his grey eyebrows.  He breathed out a long sigh.
When he opened his eyes, he could see her body far below on the roof of the next building as a dot, a red smear.  He didn’t even know her name.  The Remothery vehicles were a distant flash of red.  Before long he’s be able to hear the sirens wailing, but not yet.  Operative Haych picked himself up and dusted down his grey suit and overcoat.
The roof of the building where she had landed was a long way below him.  He carefully stepped back from the edge, to let his senses regain their balance.  Around him on the roof, cooling towers, water tanks and air vents stood out like turrets on a castle.
Haych looked away from the scene below, to the city around him.  Plexity stretched out, towers and spires to the horizon in all directions.  There seemed to be no edge to it.  Million of lights, each with their own little dramas beneath them.
    Haych looked up at the sky.  The sun only showed as a dull glow in the west.  Instead of joining the clearing-up below, he waited.  The sky bruised, the light scorching the clouds as the sun set.  Stars began to appear, some of them twinkling almost as much as the Hypercars and Hoverpods that soared above, circling down towards the city Hyperport.  Dark clouds gathered around the tallest spires of the star-scrapers.  The wind picked up and it began to rain thick drops.  Every alleyway and street, parapet and tower block added to the invisible eddies that breathed air through the city.  With slow eyes on the world, Haych watched, hardly feeling the rain on his skin.  He made his way inside the building.
From a descending elevator on the side of the building Haych watched Plexity come alive in the darkness.

    By the time Haych had reached the roof where the girl had landed, it was awash with flashing lights and sirens.  An area had been cordoned off around the body where it lay.  A Hypercar vehicle suddenly descended to Haych’s level.  Red warning lights flashed and a vibrating screech sounded as an alarm.  Haych knew the sound; he had heard it almost every day since he had joined CoHOD.  Even so, his heart always jumped at the noise of the wagon that collected the dead.  He waved briefly to the driver as the Remothery vehicle set down, and watched as the officers picked up what was left of the girl.  The back of her head was a mass of blood, blonde hair and broken skull, but again, Haych had to look, had to see the darker side of the city.
They lowered her into a Plasglas tank in the back of the vehicle with great care.  One of the hygiene-suited men pulled a thick tube from the side of the vehicle and placed it into the tank.      Haych watched as a blue, semi-liquid gloop began to fill the tank, covering the body.  The CryoGel liquid was then activated, freezing solid within a few seconds.  Haych sighed and headed to the other side of the building as the vehicle took off.

 

SN: What challenges have you faced in your writing? Is there anything you find particularly challenging in the writing process?
DR: I find it very hard to reduce the essence of a novel to it’s bare minimum.  I don’t like writing synopsies or outlines because I rarely stick to them if I write them before and think that something is missing from them if I do them afterwards.  Dialogue is another challenge to me to get down on paper; unique voices.  I’ve found it difficult to sell myself to agents and publishers but each time I try I get better.

 

SN: Do you have a typical writing routine?
DR: Unfortunately not.  I’m sometimes very slack and then will do a lot of work in a very short time.  I try to balance this by carrying a notebook so if I think of anything I’ll write it down and once a year I do try to write a novel in November from all the notes that have built up over the year.  I don’t always succeed.

 

SN: What motivates you to write?
DR: I write because I feel I have to.  The ideas I get can be like a curse and the only cure is to get them out of my head by writing them down.  The strange thing is that I don’t remember everything that I’ve written when I read it back years later.  If I didn’t have my imagination then my life would be empty.

 

SN: Do you have any advice for fellow writers?
DR: Yes, keep writing things down and when you’ve finished your story or novel or poem, edit it before you send it out, then send it out and forget it and write something else.  Repeat until someone notices your work.

 

SN: You mentioned to me that you have recently written folk songs, it sounds like you are a real creative. Is your past musical, too, or is this just something you have just decided to try more recently?
DR: The song writing is a new thing.  I met a friend through a friend who re-introduced me to folk music and encouraged me to sing in public after not doing that since I had been at school (nearly 30 years before) and he was writing a song a month and I thought that it couldn’t be harder to do than poetry so i tried and ended up writing a few good songs (and some bad ones and silly ones) and then singing them myself to crowded rooms and some notable singer/songwriters taking notice and liking the songs.  I had also taken part in Huddersfield literature write an album in a day and was really happy with what the singer had done with my poem/song that it encouraged me to try it out again.  It is harder than poetry and more repetitive but more fun too.

An interview with fantasy novelist Rick James

SN: Sisters Noire (unless otherwise indicated, interviews conducted by Ed Evans).
RJ: Rick James.

 

 

SN: I read on your blog that you have worked as a teacher. Could you please give a little background about you?

 
RJ: I continue to work as a teacher in three areas that inform my work and the work – I hope – of others – 1) EFL; teaching foreign students the language and culture 2) a writing teacher; teaching people as on my blog about what have I learned working with the world’s foremost editors, and 3) a speaking and vocal coach, which is great for helping a writer define character traits, voice and motivation. Link here: http://www.antimotivationalspeaker.webs.com/

 

SN: Please briefly explain what it is you write

 

RJ: I write fantasy fiction that is in sync with the internet age; an age of science and of reason and, er, advertising. I personally don’t think a fictional evil army of darkness from an alternate dimension would stand a chance to “out-evil” a trio of young protagonists such as those in my book, due to the fact modern kids are too savvy as regards the conventions of fantasy fiction, and thus would always know what was “coming next”. This knowing, self-referential vibe is new for books (though common in movies), and is where I feel my work really tunes into the Zeitgeist. Either way, it’s tons of fun, and it is that aspect that caught my publisher’s eye; basically, every time you have a typical fantasy trope in my books, such as a “wise old elder sage” talking pseudo-Norse gobbledy-gook along the lines of: “to find the magical Stone of Eragorn will be a hard and dangerous journey” you have a kid counter: “forget the journey … cuz! I’ll just find it on EBay.”

 

SN: Does your book have a title?

 

RJ: Regrettably, due to contractual and marketing obligations I am not allowed to reveal this yet! Stay posted …

 

SN: What genre would you say your book falls under? Is it a sub-genre of fantasy?

 

RJ: Tricky. In a sense it is a new genre, spanning and incorporating many genres, due to the self-referential aspect. How to name it? I personally don’t believe in magic or in the supernatural, and, thus, the “fantastical” goings on in my books require science to satisfy the protagonists and help them defeat it – so they simply Google the answers they need! The genre, then? Maybe it’s “Internet Steampunk” – replace an array of Victoriana contraptions with Google and the net. How about “Sci-Fan?” Or a “mash-up of mash-ups?” Hard to say. Maybe the critics will define it for me.

 

SN: Could you please explain a little about the genre for our readers? (if a sub-genre)

 

RJ: As mentioned – and I am about to post a blog article about this on my site – I write plausible, fantasy with the fantastical elements “explained”. If a magic wand is waved – fine. But I want to know the science behind it. If a ghost is spotted, sure. But I want to know the mechanics behind the EMF that potentially allows for this phenomenon. If a goblin or elf (god forbid!) rears its annoying head, I want to know the anthropology, lifecycle and evolutionary providence, or I’m bored. Suspension of disbelief is one thing, being patronised and cheated is another.

 

SN: What inspired you to start writing?

 

RJ: I have always written in one capacity or another, and then I came up with this concept that got me noticed – though that potted history makes it seem easier than it was.

 

SN: What are your favourite books/TV shows and have they influenced your writing?

 

RJ: My favourite books are an eclectic lot: His Dark Materials, Phillip Pullman, The Old Man and the Sea, Ernest Hemmingway, The Trial, Franz Kafka and 1984, George Orwell and others too numerous to list. I mainly watch movies made from books to assess the story elements that are universal (I am a screenwriter), as well as a lot of fantasy/sci-fi stuff, comics, manga and anime. Check out my article http://thefantasynovelist.wordpress.com/2011/07/ to see how I view the world from the perspective of films.

 

SN: Do you have a specific writing style?

 

RJ: As above, I like to experiment with styles. Teaching English has taught me to be flexible and expressive: English as a language does not, in my opinion, exist; English as a versatile dialect does. I am frequently criticised for this opinion, but I suggest anyone unhappy with this notion should check the evolving history of the language for 300 years from 1066 – and get over it! You can’t master a discipline until you accept its conventions or, indeed, lack of them.

 

SN: Does your novel have a clear message?

 

RJ: Yes. My message is: A person must face their demons in order to be a complete person and in turn help others face theirs. If these demons turn out to be flesh and blood, well … I think many of us would agree we’ve faced our “demons” in the flesh; a person or persons who somehow represented what we fear most in ourselves, creating anxieties, tensions and situations that had to be overcome. (Anyone who failed to spot that last sentence as a near text-book definition of a story “villain” needs to contact me!)

 

My books ultimately pose this very interesting question: If your “demons” were to be personified in physical form and were to sit opposite you, then what form would these “demons” take – who or what would they look like, and what would they say to you? Now that (for most people) is scary as heck! My book is stock full of these scenarios, ones I think we can all relate to.

 

SN: Is the book based on real life events?

 

RJ: To an extent, conspiracy-style. Most names, places, historical events are well documented. By definition of my genre-defying concept, I have to make sure if my actual readers do Google stuff in my book, it is all there. Art imitating life imitating art… But I will leave it up to the reader to decide – Da Vinci Code-style – how much is “true”.

 

SN: Is/or would you like writing to be your career?

 

RJ: Already is, really. Off the back of this book the bills are starting to get paid through writing – thankfully. No mean feat. And I still keep my “day job” writing corporate copy and essays etc.

 

SN: Can you share a little of your work with us?

 

RJ: As above, really.

 

SN: How hard was it for you to reach the publication stage? Do you have any advice for writers seeking representation?

 

RJ: Hard as heck – isn’t it always? I think every writer has experienced that. But the landscape is changing a lot, and I describe my journey in detail to on my blog. The key is to network, and to always ensure you have a new angle on what makes your work a bit different, as well as a comparison of existing titles. Also, always have your promotional ideas at hand to discuss with a publisher. I am professional public speaker and put myself forward as a “personality” for interviews, teaching and talks; something like that. Bottom line: a good book … a great book … a work of genius is not the sales pitch anyone is looking for, even if such a claim were true. Regardless, no one will ever know if it’s true unless your book is published, promoted and delivered into the hands of your readers! So either way, a writer has to hustle!

 

SN: Do you suffer from writers block? If so, how do you combat this?

 

RJ: Actually, no – a free-associate thinker, I am a compulsive worker and if I stall in any area I simply transfer my efforts to another piece of work, hence the actual output is seamless, and I can recommend anyone try the same.

 

SN: I started reading your blog “The Fantasy Novelist” (http://thefantasynovelist.wordpress.com). So far I have found it informative and I like that it is written in an active, conversational manner. The “show, don’t tell…” post caught my eye as I have read a lot of books that I would say use both writing methods. Are there any other rules in modern writing that you consider at best stuffy, or at worst, counter-productive for a fledgling writer to rigidly adhere to?

 

RJ: Very good question. In public speaking, by way of analogy, almost all the “rules” and “conventions” are passé, and I have written a manual on that subject here http://antimotivationalspeaker.webs.com/apps/webstore/products/show/2280293

 

(Any of your readers who would like a copy can have this with my compliments.) The same, I fear, is true of the rules of writing because they pigeonhole the activity and negate the creativity, thus defeating the object of the exercise – a creative Catch .22 if ever there was one!

 

Thus, the term “rules of writing”, if you look closely, is a bit of an oxymoron. You might as well have “colour swatches” for painting masterpieces! Sure, learn the basics, but don’t cling to them! The post you discussed was rather angrily received in some quarters by writers, I feel, who are too keen to rigidly adhere to “rules” rather than risk genuine creativity. English has more exceptions than rules and thus it is here where genius can flourish. So, bottom line, yes, learn how to build the box sturdily and well, but only so that you can think outside of it.
As regards specific “rules of writing”, they are too vague to counter – what we really have is a collection of meaningless aphorisms that make mediocre teachers feel a bit better about themselves. For example “write what you know”. How exactly does that “rule” help? Again, one would have to assume this means write your characters from the perspective of your own emotional experience, perhaps? Then why not say that? Make it clear. I can in two hours give you the complete theory (as opposed to “rules”) of novel writing, clearly and concisely, and anyone can ask me. A teacher must be clear and not rehash other people’s trite “rules” and third hand conventions.

 
SN: What challenges have you faced in your writing? Is there anything you find particularly challenging in the writing process?

 
RJ: Three things: editing, editing and editing!

 

SN: Do you have a typical writing routine?

 

RJ: I have to write when I can, usually early morning and weekends.

 

SN: What motivates you to write?

 

RJ: I am motivated by the chance to get my “big” creative, intellectual and philosophical ideas into an entertaining commercial format that many will read and absorb – if you get good enough, you can do that. I would cite Animal Farm, George Orwell as an example of this. That is what I am aiming for – if it can be read on many levels then readers across the spectrum can get what they want from it. I am also a screenplay writer and that is the number one consideration of commercial screenwriting: a high-concept idea that is accessible to everyone; if you achieve that, then your “big ideas” can be present as subtext. Thus, you can have your cake and eat it, and I want my readers to get that out of my work!

 

SN: Is there a lot of research involved in your writing?

 

RJ: Tons! The more research you do, the more you can leave out. Period. I will generally write 100,000 words and by the time the additional research is clear and the ideas are polished and concise, I can ditch 30,000 words! But I don’t know which 30,000 words have to go unless the research is sound. I liken the process to handing a block of fine marble and a chisel to someone and saying “I want you to carve me Michelangelo’s David” to which the person replies “how do I do that?” and the answer: “Easy! Just remove all the marble that doesn’t look like Michelangelo’s David.” It really is as easy and hard as that, despite the seemingly counter-intuitive nature of the exercise.

 
SN: Do you have any advice for other writers?

 

RJ: Did you hear the joke about the writer who got into writing for the money? Exactly! It is a good joke! Funny and true! My point is: if you can live without writing, do – it’s very hard work for little if no money most of the time. Otherwise, keep honing your craft and you’ll get there, and it is certainly rewarding in itself.

 

SN: Do you see yourself in your characters?

 

RJ: Definitely. This gets back to our updated definition of “write what you know” – all the ideas, philosophy and world-view are mine, otherwise characters tend to become two-dimensional “stock characters”. (Robert Langdon and Eragon et al, you know who you are!)

 

SN: Are there any particular tools you find useful in your writing?

 

RJ: Observation and talking to people. Also, I recite and act out my characters to get the descriptions and pace I need. Anyone interested in seminars where I lead these activities, please get in touch.

 

SN: Is there a specific way you plan your writing?

 
RJ: My editor has pulled me up on this. To make the process easier, I adhere to creating the synopsis/chapter breakdown and then writing it up from there. However, there is a lot to be said for just writing what you want and see where it takes you. Sometimes a journey is more interesting without knowing the destination when you begin.

 

SN: What books/authors have influenced your writing?

 
RJ: Again, Hemmingway. There are many, many writers who write well, but he writes differently – and be damned! Also, Orwell packs a mean punch. In my genre, I would have to say Phillip Pullman. However, ultimately a writer must find his or her own style and “voice” and this “influenced by” notion recedes. Defining influences, I feel, is for critics and posterity – a writer should get on with writing.

 

SN: Do you envisage your story as part of a series? if so will there be recurring characters?

 

RJ: Yes. That is the big idea. Where you have a group of young characters “facing their demons” in physical form, I would argue you essentially have by definition the subtext of every narrative ever written back to the first cave paintings and by extension of that logic every narrative yet to be written, so, er, I’ll have to crack on and write those – which should keep me busy! I already have the first two books in two other interrelated series written. Oh, one of these needs to be illustrated and I would be interested to hear from anyone who may like to be involved in that. Dark and Gloomy, Where The Wild Things Are-style illustrations.

 

SN: Do you have writing plans once you have finished your book?

 

RJ: Sequels, sequels, sequels! Also, the games are looking good!

 

SN: Can you briefly explain the setting or settings in your book?

 

RJ: My books are physically set in east London in many east London locations – but the action does shift “Wrinkle in Time”- style (another favourite book of mine) across dimensions. If you’re wondering exactly how and why a fantasy concept that is essentially larger than LOTR in scope would find a natural home in a part of town that is sometimes dangerous and deprived, then your surprise is as great as mine was. But the logic is inescapable: If you were looking to find, say, a trio of kids to fight the forces of darkness, how in the heck do you think a trio of middle class wet-behind-the-ears magician dilettantes (HP et al, you know who you are) could do it? No, you would need a trio of hip, street smart kids that are scarier than anything they have in the dark dimension, and the street kids round here are precisely that. So that fun concept is the engine to this series.

 

SN: Can you briefly explain your core characters?

 

RJ: Basically, as above. Ethnic. Hip. Cunning as a trio of foxes. In other words: “Street” … innit.

 

SN: Thank you very much, Rick.

An interview with John White

SN: Sisters Noire (unless otherwise indicated, interviews conducted by Ed Evans).
JW: John White.

 

 

SN: An interview with South West based author John White on the 16/06/2012 sat in the Union Rooms, Plymouth with a nice latte.

John, you’ve done a lot with your life so far, could you give us a little background on you and where you’ve worked et cetra?

 

JW: I joined Courage, the brewers, in Bristol in 1963 when I left school – at the age of 17. I had several roles in the company, mostly involved in the development of the businesses that the company operated. Over the next thirty-four years, via Courage, I worked with Fosters and the Hanson group, then Diageo, and, finally, from 1995, as a consultant with the Asset Management sector of Nomura the Japanese wholesale bank. But, by then, I had become tired with travelling all over the place to business meetings. I rarely saw my family, so, when redundancy came I embraced it! And, when I was offered a new contract, I refused. Why put myself back into the rat-race that I was so happy to leave? And I had always wanted to paint and write and here I was at the age of fifty being offered the perfect opportunity to do that.

 

SN: So painting and writing – you said those two were lifelong ambitions?

 

JW: From a child I’d always been interested in art and writing and I enjoyed painting at school. I won a couple of National Association of Boys’ clubs competitions when I was in my teens. When I left work in 1997 and began painting seriously, I had three exhibitions, sold in two galleries in Plymouth and one in Bristol and really began enjoying this change of lifestyle. Success with my art spurred me on to writing and in 2002 I attended a series of creative writing courses here in Plymouth and then helped to form the Southway Writers group. Interestingly, despite my love of painting, when I began writing I found the need to write compulsive and from 2003 onwards I’ve not painted. Writing takes over your life and I am fortunate that my wife, Jill, is very supportive with my work. Latterly, in 2006, I joined the three other authors in Fortold Fiction, Jenny Cole, Silja Swaby and of course yourself, Ed. That group of friends gave me and my writing the impetus it, and I, needed.

 

SN: You have written a book, The Messenger, could you please explain a little about it?

 

JW: The Messenger came out of a story idea a friend of mine had – an author called Robert Shove. He had this concept of a soldier who is taken to a realm of war dead souls. In this realm, men, women and children, killed in war, suffer the pain of their deaths for eternity – and they want this soldier to become their messenger. They want him to stop war. A task that he knows is impossible. I created Jack Chandler’s story as a vehicle for the concept, because I feel strongly about how easily we can be led into war. I have photographs of children in war zones who have legs and arms blown off and other injuries, some we can’t see – like physiological trauma – and those images made me realise that I wanted people to think harder about conflict – about the repercussions of conflict. I think it was Plato who said only the dead know the end of war, but imagine that wasn’t the case, imagine death in war meant eternal suffering. How quickly then would we hand over our children to the military? How strongly then would we question the people whose agendas start war to ensure it’s the last resort, not the first, and certainly not for profit. So, when Special Forces soldier, Jack, begins seeing these dead people he is told he is suffering PTSD. Jack hopes it is, because, the alternative – that what he is seeing is real, terrifies him.

 

SN: So he doesn’t really know if he’s in his right mind or not?

 

JW: No, and I’ve left that for the reader to establish – is Jack imagining this or is this place real?

 

SN: It sounds like your book’s got a very interesting supernatural element, what genre would you say The Messenger belongs to?

 

JW: Good question. When I talked to one of the agents who had asked for the full manuscript, one I particularly wanted to work with, Camilla Bolton of Darley Anderson, she said she liked the characters and the plotline, but that she wasn’t keen on the subplot of the souls. She suggested I take them and the ‘other world’ out of it. When I asked her why, she told me it crossed genres – supernatural and thriller – and it seems publishers aren’t keen on books which cross genres. It took me two months to do the rewrite, but then when I reread the book it was just like any other thriller. The message that I was trying to create about war had gone and I realised then that I couldn’t go forward with it in that format. Everything came to a grinding halt and I had this fear that I had wasted five years writing the book and that it would never see the light of day. But, then, along came Kindle and I published it there in August of last year.

 

SN: To me the most interesting part of The Messenger is the supernatural element/

 

JW: It probably sounds arrogant, but I had this hope that when people finished reading The Messenger they would stop and think imagine if that’s true, imagine if that land of souls exists, imagine if people who died in war did suffer the pain of that death for eternity. What would we do then? I wanted to put that doubt in readers’ heads, because I wanted them to question more strongly the people whose agenda’s create war.

 

SN: Your protagonist Jack Chandler provides us with a strong yet troubled lead, an every-man against the world. What inspired his character?

 

JW: My father suffered a form of PTSD resulting from his three years in Egypt during World War Two. I was born in late 1946 and my mother, especially, and I, throughout my formative years, saw the effect that war had had on him. I don’t think the condition was investigated then as much as it has been since. I feel it’s an ‘unseen’ injury – and, often, out of sight is out of mind. So, having seen the behaviour this condition can manifest, I wanted to portray it in The Messenger – in Jack. But Jack is a modern military man and there were other military elements to his character which I needed to get right and I talked to military people to get the advice I needed.

 

SN: You’ve certainly done your research, if you could divide it up do you reckon research would be the largest part of what you’ve done?

 

JW: The book took five years to write and the research, I would say, was probably 65% of everything that I did. Not being a military man I had to check simple things that would come naturally to a soldier – like the SA80 Assault Rifle having a right hand ejector – making it a right-shoulder weapon. In one scene, Jack holds a child in his arms and needs to return fire. If he fired from his left shoulder the ejected shells could go into his face or hers. A soldier would know that. If I got that wrong they’d say, this guy doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I also had to research terrorist organisations, Iran, its Government, reference books on Special Forces, Iraqi language, Air Force One, because the Iranians have a similar plane in my story and I needed to know the layout. I telephoned a pilot at Plymouth airport (when we had an airport), to ask his advice about whether someone who had flown a Cessna 152 could land a 747. He said why would he need to do that?

 

SN: What were you planning?

 

JW: Mayhem! I told him that my character, Jack, is in a 747 loaded with explosives, on a collision course for Indian Point nuclear reactor just up the Hudson from New York. As I said that my phone line went dead – then started bleeping. The noise continued for a minute or so and then the line cleared. I phoned the airport again and talked to the guy from before. He asked why I’d put the phone down on him – I said I hadn’t. He suggested that mentioning a 747, explosives and Indian Point nuclear reactor in the same sentence probably had Menworth Hill or Langley in Virginia on my tail. He was laughing when he said it, but I did wonder if I had hit some trigger words at a listening post.

 

SN: In the story Jack must go up against the US. Would you say The Messenger is an anti-American book?

 

JW: No. I like America and have American friends. It’s just that it’s the most powerful country in the world and rarely does anyone stop it from pursuing its chosen course. I wanted Jack to put a spanner in its plans. In American films, the villains are usually Brits, so maybe I’m subconsciously turning the tables on that.

 

SN: Do you watch a lot of TV and films and do they influence your writing?

 

JW: I don’t watch a lot of TV and we don’t have Sky because, if we did, I’d be watching the Discovery Channel, the Sci-Fi Channel and UK Gold every day and I don’t want to do that, but I do like watching films. Especially films like Clear and Present Danger, the Bourne trilogy and such. It rarely happens, but if I find that I ‘ve got writer’s block, I’ll watch a film like Enemy of the State on DVD – that gets my mind back into ‘thriller’ mode.

 

SN: Fantastic films.

 

JW: I enjoy escapism films too, like Alien, Predator, and many more of a sci-fi ilk. That’s why I think my writing isn’t just about straightforward events, often I’ll link it to supernatural and alien themes.

 

SN: Was it important for you to set parts of the story in your local area? What was the reasoning behind this?

 

JW: I like to include the South West in my books because it’s such a beautiful part of the country. The film Warhorse was based in the South West and when Steven Spielberg came here to do it he said “We have three characters in this film – the horse, the boy and the landscape”. The landscape here is both rugged and intriguing and lends itself to a host of backdrops including mystery, romance, and, in my case, aliens! I think Plymouth is a brilliant city too with a great seafaring and military history. I especially like using the Barbican in scenes.

 

SN: Do you still find time to read? Are you reading something at the moment? Is it mainly research?

 

JW: I have a problem with reading at the moment and I don’t know whether any other authors have the same problem – we’re told that if we want to write we must read, read, read. I’m reading Fifty Shades of Grey and the Girl with the Dragon Tattoo at the moment. But the difficulty I’ve been finding over the last two or three years, is that every time I read a new book, I’m not absorbing the story but dissecting the writing.

 

SN: Do you see any parts of you in your characters?

 

JW: Rarely. I think it would be a mistake to put me into a book – I’m not that interesting. I’ve never been involved in intrigue or espionage or anything of that nature. I’ve led a pretty average life. I’ve had success in business, but I’ve never put my life on the line like guys in the military, the fire service or the police etc.

 

SN: Do you envisage your story as part of a series? If so will there be recurring characters? For example, without giving too much away, are we likely to see Jack again?

 

JW: Yes. The Messenger is the first in a trilogy and, in the second book, the situation with Jack and the souls will raise its head again. So will the fact that I don’t think we can trust Governments or politicians. Someone once said “Your Government is your worst enemy”, and whilst at the time I didn’t believe it, I find nowadays it has a relevance that concerns me – and that will crop up in the second of the series. I’m hoping by the third in the series the souls may have a reason for existing but not in the format that Jack sees them.

 

SN: Any work of fiction that takes your everyman and makes him question his government and what he hears in the media can only be a good thing. V in V for Vendetta says people shouldn’t be afraid of their government it should be the other way around.

 

JW: You’re right Ed. I think we forget that Politicians work for us, not us for them. That’s why I think prospective politicians should have to spend time living and working on the streets for two or three months before even being considered to represent the people. I think until politicians realise what it’s like to live that life, they can never truly know the people they represent.

 

SN: Do you have any advice for other writers who are just starting out?

 

JW: Writing can be an insular occupation. So, the first thing to get are writing friends, join a group, get feedback on your work. Make sure the feedback is honest. Sometimes that hurts, but when you realise the people who say “that doesn’t work” or “the character’s flat” or “you’ve got an opportunity here to do this or that” are doing it because they want you to succeed then it makes it bearable. Don’t be defensive. Learn from what they tell you. Go on creative writing courses – some are free. Write and read as often as you can.

 

SN: Do you think you could share some of your work with us?

 

THE MESSENGER : CHAPTER 1

Hit, Iraq – Aug 3rd 2010
 14.37 hrs – local time
The dust-covered 1998 Toyota Camry heading north-west in a line of traffic through Hit looked like any of the other cars journeying through this small town on the Euphrates … and that was exactly how Jack Chandler wanted it. He flexed sweaty fingers over the M4 Colt Commando assault rifle placed between his right thigh and the car door as he and the driver, Robbo Banks, scanned the roadside shops and derelict buildings they were passing.
As they headed out of the town, toward the blistering heat of the desert corridor to Haditha base, Jack’s mind flipped again between their clandestine commentary on their surroundings and the prospect of what lay ahead when he arrived back in the UK the next day. The former he could do almost without thinking – the latter troubled him. He hoped Sally appreciated what he was giving up for her.
A truck loaded with old tyres swinging out from between dirty white buildings stopped his thoughts and pumped adrenaline as it snail-paced along in front of them.
As Robbo braked Jack tugged up the Colt and checked back and forth along the road. No change in car movement or people busying themselves along the pavement – windows and roof-tops empty.
‘Clear,’ he said dropping the Colt back. He glanced at Robbo, the thought of them having a cold beer together back in Plymouth disappearing as the truck jerked to a halt – its front end turned toward the line of oncoming traffic.
Robbo braked again. ‘Where’s this twat going?’
Jack didn’t comment. He was staring up ahead, past the truck at a young girl in a yellow dress, amongst a group of people attempting to cross the road.
One hand tugged at the cloth of her mother’s black abaaya – the other pointed back across a hundred metres of wasteland to a derelict warehouse beyond a rank of shops on Jack’s right.
On the warehouse roof parapet the silhouette of a head and shoulders shimmered in the afternoon heat. A second silhouette tightened Jack’s gut.
He punched a fist at Robbo. ‘Machine gun! Three o’clock.’
A burst of 12mm rounds ripped across the wasteland dropping the people crossing the road – the shrieks of those crawling for cover silenced as the gunner opened up again.
More bullets cracked along the tarmac ricocheting off the bonnet of the Toyota.
‘Back up!’ yelled Jack.
Robbo rammed it into reverse, shunted the car behind them back a metre just as the fuel tank on the truck exploded. Blazing tyres erupted, tumbling onto the Toyota as it careered back onto the pavement braking alongside the row of shops.
‘Call it in!’ Jack grabbed his rifle, kicked the door open and checked the street.
Behind them the doors on abandoned cars were open – engines still running – drivers and passengers crowded into doorways. Across the road three more cars were locked together – bullet holes in bodywork, windows shattered, drivers and passengers dead. Ten metres past the truck inferno the girl was screaming in the middle of the road next to her mother’s crumpled body.
The machine gun stopped.
Jack darted to the edge of the rank of shops, peered around the wall at the roof-top gunner, then glanced back at the girl pulling frantically on her mother’s arm. If the woman was alive Jack could see no sign of it.
The girl turned and looked at him, and for a moment he couldn’t move – couldn’t take his eyes off hers.
Robbo’s hand gripped Jack’s shoulder. ‘Don’t even think about it.’
‘She’s a kid for Christ’s sakes.’
‘This isn’t our business. Air support’s coming in. We’re to sit tight, then move out.’
Jack’s dark green eyes refocused on the girl rocking back and forth – arms crossed over her small frame – mouth open, body straining to scream but no sound coming out. He jerked away from Robbo’s grip. ‘Cover me.’
‘Fuck it, Ja…’
Robbo’s words were lost in an exchange of fire as Jack raced to the smoking truck, rounds from the roof top machine gun cracking around him.
He choked in a breath stinking of burning rubber and poked his head around the smouldering remains of the cab.
Beyond the three shot-up cars two concrete pillars marked the entrance to a market. If he could grab the girl he could make for them.
The machine gunner opened up again and bullets swept along the length of the truck.
A round zipping up off its front wheel jerked Jack sideways as it hit the iridium satellite phone clipped to his belt. ‘Shit!’ he cursed.
Heart thumping, he turned, pressed his back against the cab door and stared down at the dangling remains. ‘Comms out,’ he bellowed to Robbo. ‘Hit that Raghead now!’
A sustained burst from Robbo’s rifle interrupted the onslaught as Jack pounded along the road, swept the girl into his left arm and zigzagged to the pillars.
Slamming them both behind one, he held her head against him as bullets exploded concrete off the column. He dragged in hot powdery breaths, blinked gritty eyes clear and checked on their position.
This wasn’t good.
The pillar barely shielded their bodies and the girl’s wriggling was making them an achievable target.
‘La-titharrak!’ His order to her, not to move, was lost as more bullets ate into the concrete and she screamed in his ear.
‘Maaku syaah.’ Telling her not to scream had little effect as she began shrieking again.
He hugged her closer – tried to calm her. ‘Don’t be afraid … la-tkhaaf, la-tkhaaf,’ he said edging a look around the pillar.
He ducked back as rounds whistled past erupting jars of spice on stalls inside the market. Suddenly, the warm, woody aroma of cinnamon filled the air and for a moment he was five years old again watching his mother bake apple pie.
More shells ricocheting off the pillar next to his head dispelled the image and he turned, squeezing the trigger on his Colt.
A second later his gun stopped.
He squeezed the trigger again.
Nothing.
‘Stoppage,’ he yelled at Robbo and slipped the girl to the ground behind his legs – his hand holding her shaking body.
He looked down at her. ‘La-titharrak.’
His warning again, not to move, had terrified, brown eyes and a dusty tear-stained face stare back at him while small shoulders lifted as she gulped air.
She must have been about eight he reckoned. ‘Look, I’ll get you out of this. OK?’
Her look told him she didn’t understand what he was saying. His language training before mission deployment generally consisted of shouting at people to drop their weapons or lie on the ground. Reassurance wasn’t a priority in his trade.
What was Iraqi for “I’ll get you out of this”? He couldn’t remember. He jabbed a finger at himself. ‘Sadiiq. Sadiiq.’
The girl didn’t look convinced that he was a “friend”. Maybe all she was seeing was that he was a man with a gun just like the terrorist on the roof. Jack looked down over his loose fitting shirt and jeans, and at the 9mm Sig Sauer P228 rammed into his belt, he didn’t even look like a soldier.
The distant screech of a jet stopped his thoughts and raised his pulse as he scanned the sky for the air support.
‘Umi. Umi.’
The girl’s cry for her mother and her body shaking against his legs made him glance down. ‘It’ll be alright,’ he said patting her back.
This time she didn’t look at him, didn’t take her eyes off the bodies in the road.
He raised his gaze again to the grey shape of a Tornado swooping down, vapour twisting off its wingtips.
‘Umi?’
The child’s questioning tone took his attention again. She was staring around the pillar into the road where her mother’s arm was half-raised.
It dropped back and the girl bolted from him, his rifle slipping to the ground as he made a grab for her – the ends of straggly, dark hair passing over his fingers as she ran into the road. ‘NO!’ he yelled. ‘Come back!’

 

SN: Thank you very much John, this has been really insightful.

 

JW: My Pleasure.

 

 

You can buy The Messenger here –
http://goo.gl/Q3INE
And read John’s blog here –
http://johnwhitebooks.blogspot.co.uk/