Write What You Gotta

Here’s a quote from a much longer Alan Moore interview, about being a writer, being a writer’s writer, and being happy. I find it especially relevant, but if I went into why, then we’d have a seriously excessive long post here, since the Alan Moore bit is already pretty long.

You could end up as a writer’s writer, and that would be a terrible fate. What that means is you’d be a writer where all the other writers would say: “God, I wish I was as brilliant as him, and I’m glad I’m not as penniless as him”. I’ve known a few borderline – Kathy Acker was nearly a writer’s writer, other writers would say: “Jesus, how does she do this stuff, these sentences are fucking fantastic…the way they sort of self-destruct…”. But she was not easy and she was not popular. Iain Sinclair, I think – yeah, let’s go out on a limb – the finest writer currently working in the English language – Downriver , one of his best books, took him five years to write and he got 2000 quid for it, how many it sold I don’t know, but probably not a lot. Most writers, even the very best ones, especially the very best ones, don’t often make a living from it. You go into any branch of Waterstone’s and 90% of those books on the shelves, unless you’re talking about Catherine Cookson, Stephen King, Jeffrey Archer – the ‘giants’ as I like to think of them – unless you’re talking about them you’re talking about someone who is a teacher, or a social worker, or works in a bookshop, or works as a lorry driver, you’re doing something to pay the rent and then working into the small hours while the wife and kids are asleep. There’s levels, there’s levels to being a writer, and I think the thing to decide is the level you’re happiest at. If you’re happy writing pulp adventure stories then for God’s sake write pulp adventure stories, and if there comes a point when you’re no longer happy writing pulp adventure stories, try something else.

Don’t think that you have to write – just because literary critics decided some time in the 19 th century that Jane Austen’s comedy of manners was the only form of literature that could really be considered literature. Basically it’s because her novels were about the habits of the class that could afford to buy books. They were about the habits of the class of people who were criticising the books. They were flattering. It was holding a mirror up to a particular strata of society – which included the critics – and they said: “Yes, our ways, our vanities, our funny little intrigues, this is the stuff of legend, the only stuff of legend. For God’s sake don’t write anything in genre. Don’t write detective stories, because they’re low and vulgar”. Even if you are Raymond Chandler, even if you are an extraordinarily beautiful and gifted writer. If you’re writing detective stories, forget it. Ghost and horror stories, well we’ll just about allow Poe, but no, on second thoughts, and certainly don’t even consider people like Lovecraft, who couldn’t write . Who had a ‘clumsy prose style’. Apparently. Clark Ashton Smith. Gaudy. Forget about him. Arthur Knacken. You’re not gonna find these people anywhere in Melvyn Smith’s list of 100 novels you simply must read. You’re not gonna find any genre. You’re mainly gonna find novels of manners. You’re not gonna find any science fiction, even if it’s H.G. Wells or Olaf Stapleton, because science fiction is a lower art form than the novel of manners.

I’d say to anyone aspiring to be a writer: write what you like. Write what you have genuine enthusiasm for. Don’t write to get a Booker prize. Angela Carter, God bless her, always used to refer to ‘that sort of person’ as ‘shortlist victims’, and it’s true. Michael Moorcock is never going to get a Booker Prize, but he’s a better writer than 100% of writers who have won the Booker Prize over the last 20 years. But he’s vulgar, he used to write comics, he used to write science-fantasy trilogies. In three weekends. On speed. He used to write the Talisman adventure libraries, he used to write Sexton Blake , along with Jack Trevor Story, another writer who will never be included in the canon of great British writers. Jack Trevor Story, one of our very best writers ever.

I think it’s a great quote. And it’s all true. I think it’s a fantastic interview, too, although I recognize that not everyone 1) even knows who Alan Moore is, or why they should care and 2) Feels like reading a 26,000 word interview.

But if you do. Here’s the link.


thanksgiving-card2 Happy Thanksgiving, Debaclers. I hope each and every one of you had an enjoyable day, surrounded by friends, family, and tribe.

Just a thought

2 AM and I’m still awake
Writing this song if I get it all down
On paper it’s no longer inside of me,
Threatening the life it belongs to.

From Anna Nalick’s really nifty song “Breathe” which I quite like.

I just listened to it, while working, and I’ve always liked that line, but never really clarified. I like it, because I like the idea of art threatening the life it belongs to. Of art being a little bit dangerous and a little bit hard to contain. I like the idea of art being toxic to the artist. It makes good sense to me, and you can see people where perhaps it was overly toxic and it drove them mad (Poe, and Richard Dadd come to mind). I like the idea of toxic art.

Of course, I suppose that metaphor turns the notebook-pencil/computer into, er, your kidneys, and there goes the beauty of the metaphor. Well, maybe not entirely. They’re kidneys, filtering out the art from your blood and running it back through your body, until it fills up with art again and has to be cleaned.

It’s a good image. Just a thought. 🙂

Nipples on the Bat Suit

Earlier today, while talking to Lori and Pete, I likened literary agents to Nipples on the Batsuit, which drew an instant response from Pete that went something like “We DON’T talk about the nipples on the batsuit!”

So naturally I had to.

Speaking of other things that don’t make a whole lot of sense on the surface, I was going through the search terms that wordpress tells me folk have been using to find Castle Debacle, and some of them are way out there.

Zombies and sex are a common combination that lead folk here. Though why anyone in their right mind would Google “Sex with zombies” makes me shiver.

Anything and everything to do with Firefly, specifically the Reavers, bring a lot of traffic here.  Honestly, as Pete suggested, we should just blog daily about Firefly and watch the hits roll in.

Another one that makes me shake my head: Why Pangea Doesn’t Exist.  Where Pangea Went.  Um . . . . hello?

Or one that made ME go Googling: Species 8472.  That one comes up a lot.

Gorram. Another Firefly reference,  Gorrammit.

Some of them are simply looking for a good Tea, while others clearly just want to snog the undead.

So far, no one’s come ’round here wondering why there are nipples on the Batsuit though.

Heaving Vampire Bosoms of Angst, part II: The Bosoming

As you know, unless you live under a rock or have been a prisoner of war for the past couple of years, vampires are currently a VERY BIG DEAL. they’re huge! Vampires sell books and vampires sell T-shirts and…well, I mean, not literally they probably get people to do that sort of thing for them, what with being otherwise busy having angst.

Nonetheless, you cannot argue, Vampires are a big deal. Just look at Stephanie Meyer’s things, the Twilight books. I cannot hurl a stone without hitting someone wearing a “Twilight t-shirt” on campus, primarily because that would be assault and I would go to jail. Hot Topic has a massive display of Twilight stuff. A movie is coming out.

They’re a big deal.

And it’s hard to see why not! Vampires are sexy! They are gothic and angsty and passionate, they are dark and mysterious and they love you eternally and will totally not giving exsanguination-hickies to anyone else, at least nobody hot.

There is a long tradition of smokin’ sexy vampires. People like Stephanie Meyer do not just spontaneously generate! Nossir, they come (by “come” I mean “ignore” or “poo on” in the original Latin definition) from a long history of sexy vampires. Let’s look at some of them. Of course, there’s the original hunk who started it all, the more-Brad Pittier-than-Brad Pitt sexpot who couldn’t HELP but inspire some of the early Vampire stories, particularly the story by that nice Mormon angst-haver, Bram Stoker. Ladies, fan yourselves, it’s Vlad the Impaler (presumably, it goes without saying that he impales you with sexy.)


Whoooo! I think you can see where “Edward” gets it all from in Meyer’s books. Holy cow. If you are female, you are probably not reading this right now because you can’t stop gazing at that picture, particularly the mustache of dedicated love and attention.

But why stop there?

Brad Pitt, who I mentioned above you may remember, played a vampire in some movie with Christian Slater, who was having a career back then (and also with Kirsten Dunst, who was scary as hell) and he was zomg hot omg. And of course, he had a proud film tradition of too-hot-to-handle vampires to draw from. It was practically banned from theaters for sheer hotness. You may not be ready for the sexy which is Nosferatu, but give it your best effort. Maybe find an attractive man to fan you while you look at it. Here you are…

Ahhh, you begin to see where the vampire-lovin’ comes from. I’m a straight man, and *I* find it hard to articulate in independent clauses how much I would like a piece of that. I can practically fail to say it! whoa! Looks like we know who Justin Timberlake had to bring the sexy back from!

And finally, just to, ha ha, finish this post off, gner gner! *nudge* Here are two final sexy pictures.

I have to tell you that this post is nearly a swimsuit calender of blood drinking sexy hotness.

And now, I think I need to go have a sit down and a cup of tea, just to recover my morals. Whoa.

This concludes the clear and obvious history of vampire sexiness which has led to the current phenomenon. I thank you for your time. Tip yer waiters.

(This historical dissertation brought to you by Cleolinda Jones, and her hilarious breakdowns of Meyers book-shaped things.)