A Little Wiser

It’s been a bit of a miserable few weeks for me, which is why the blogging’s been kept to a minimum. There have been a few personal issues I’ve had to deal with, the least serious of which have been HOURS of phone calls to people who supply broadband (or don’t, as the case may be or, well, WAS), and having a recurrence of the cellulitis (and, yes, I am sick of typing that) which seems to pop back to bugger me up every few months. So, yes. Not a particularly happy time for me.

But things are on the mend. Which is fortunate. And, as often happens in times like these, you end up coming out of them a little wiser, and knowing yourself better. I’ve learned things, which is good. I’ve learned that I can cope with things better than I thought I could. I’ve learned that I do need people, that support is incredibly important, and that it can come in many different forms – but that, while it’s great, it’s not essential. I’ve realised I should probably make more of an effort to do more things and to try to, publicly, be a bit happier.

And I’ve learned that, above all else, I’m a writer. And writer’s write. It’s what we do. And while other things may well get in the way, I don’t think writing and me could ever really be apart for long. And that’s, mostly, a very good thing indeed.

An Interview With Stanley Donwood

You might know Stanley Donwood from his (rather brilliant) art. He’s, among other things, Radiohead’s artist in residence.

More importantly (well, today, at least), he’s a writer too. And a very good one at that. I had the pleasure of reading his latest collection of short fictions, ‘Household Worms‘ just before the holidays and I enjoyed it a huge amount. The book’s filled with great moments, funny ones, tragic ones – all of them believable (no matter how strange they may be) and it comes highly recommended by me.

And here he is. Right here, on the blog, to talk a bit about it.

 

 

Stanley! Hello and welcome to the blog. It’s a pleasure to have you here.

It’s very nice to be here, wherever here is.

 

So, you’ve just published a collection of short fictions, ‘Household Worms’ (which I enjoyed very much). Could you tell us a little about it? Who’s it for? What’s it about?

I’m not sure who it’s for.  I tried to advertise it as ‘an idea stocking filler for the slightly deranged’.  I also claimed that it was ideal for East Anglians.  It’s proved very popular with people who drink in pubs.  It’s not about anything in particular, though.  Some of the stories are less miserable than others; that’s about it, really.

 

‘Household Worms’ isn’t your first book, is it? Could you tell us a little about what you’ve put out before, and how they all compare?

My first book was called ‘Slowly Downward’, which was also a collection of stories.  The stories in that book were all part of a self-administered therapy, as I had gone a little mad.  Originally I wrote out my ‘episodes’ and sent them via post to as many people as I had addresses for, which seemed to alleviate the symptoms.  Publishing them as a book helped enormously, and I am no longer mad.  My second book was called ‘Catacombs of Terror!’ and was a tawdry, cheap and sensational pulp detective novel featuring guns, drugs and a horde of blind, albino flesh-eating pigs.  It was written as a result of a bet that I couldn’t write a novel in a month.  I’ve done a few picture books too; ‘Dead Children Playing’ was followed by ‘Department of Reclusive Paranoia’ and then by ‘Red Maze’. [Click to check out his other titles – Nik]

 

One of things that struck me with the collection was its honesty, even in bizarre or unusual circumstances. Do you think it’s easier to show honesty and truth (in whatever form that might take) when circumstances like those are presented?

I am bemused by your impression, because I hadn’t intended that at all.  Even stories that are ‘based on true events’ such as ‘Wage Packet’ are cushioned with a tremendous amount of exaggeration, hyperbole and deceitful interpretation.  My actual life is quite mundane and would make dull reading.  Or is it?  I don’t know, if I’m honest.  I have nothing to compare it with.

 

And talking of slightly unusual situations. I must ask (after reading the brilliant ‘Sky Sports’): would you rather attend a piss foam party than watch the football? Are you not a fan?

I will let my daughter answer this, as she is bored:  No, I love football, I try to watch it at least once every day. One day, I think I will learn to play football and join the local team. I will bring fairy cakes and orange squash to boost team morale.

 

I thought ‘Household Worms’ had moments of brilliant comedy – some really laugh out loud moments. Do you find that an easy thing to write? Is it intentional or does it just happen?

It is not intentional in the slightest.  I was actually rather disturbed when my editor and typographer Devlin Crease first read the material and spent a lot of time spluttering with what proved to be amusement.  There is nothing funny about it, in my view.  Tragedy loves comedy, they say.  Whoever they are.

 

You’re not only a talented short story writer – a few people reading here will possibly know you for the art you’ve created (most notably as Radiohead’s artist in residence). I know this is a huge question but, for you, how does the process of creating stories differ from the process of creating visual art?

It is completely different.  It seems that for me the two are mutually exclusive, and I’ve found I can’t do one whilst being occupied by the other.  I have been making art consistently for the past five years, and in that time have written no fiction whatsoever.  It is possible – even likely – that I will never write again.  Unless I stop making art.  It’s kind of a shame, because I do like writing, although I find it very hard.  Thank you for the compliment though.

 

Could you describe ‘Household Worms’ in a sentence?

Yours for a tenner.

 

Any tips you’d offer to aspiring writers (or artists?).

You have chosen a very tricky proposition.  Good luck.  Try not to give up, but don’t worry too much if you do.

 

What’s next for you?

I’m having an exhibition of an 18 foot long linocut of Los Angeles being destroyed by fire and flood and meteor storm in a quasi-mediaeval style.  The exhibition will be in Los Angeles, appropriately.  That will be at the end of April, at Shepard Fairey’s gallery.  You are the first person I’ve told, actually.  I’m beginning to get nervous about it.
Anything you’d like to add?

I’m going to have a cup of tea now.

 

More Cool

Another couple of cool things for your reading pleasure.

First, one of the best short stories I’ve read in ages.

And second – this nice mention.

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I’ve had a ridiculous week. One that’s left me feeling shattered and a bit defeated, so I’ll leave it at that. And now I finish off work and look forward to a little time alone, relaxing, recuperating, and pretending these antibiotics don’t make me feel like shit. Have a great weekend, folks.

Two Bits of Lovely

First up, this – from the terrific and ridiculously good, Rob Shearman. It’s a story with me in it. Well, my name at least. It’s, without doubt, the best story involving a cat reciting an epic poem that you will ever read. And it’s wonderful. I mean, really wonderful. Go read it.

And also go check out Rob’s latest collection which, from what I’ve read so far, is also very wonderful.

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And I received this – the book of winners from  Wallasy Library’s 100 Words competition, for their centenary, which I judged a little while ago. And which is brilliant too.

And Alas It Was As Though The Holidays Never Happened

Well, not strictly. I am feeling better for having some time off.

Happy new year, one and all. I hope your holidays were splendid.

I am back at work. Properly.

Yesterday, as well as watching some great stuff on iPlayer and 4 OD (Charlie Brooker, and Charlie Brooker), I wrote the first draft of an essay on short fiction. More on that soon.

And today’s been spent going through the proofs for Freaks!. And I have to tell you, I couldn’t be happier with it. I am excited. I got that tingly this is good feeling, and that is most definitely good. Oh yes. Even if I do say so myself. And even if the good bits turn out to be all of Caroline’s.

I also sent out the first part of my new short fiction course earlier. Incidentally (important announcement alert) a couple of people have been grumbling that I didn’t get back to them when they emailed to say they were interested. This is because something had cocked up with the form on the page and I never actually saw the emails. So, as I’m a nice chap, I’ll extend the £89 special offer until next week, for ANYONE who’d like to do it. Details here, or email me at mail AT nperring DOT com. And huge apologies to anyone who thought I was ignoring them. I wasn’t. Promise!

I think that’s about it, for now. Hope 2012 is treating you all well. And if it isn’t, give it time, eh?