"To Hell with Dante" is a collection of cynical
afterlife stories, ranging from comedic genius to dark surrealism. To help kick off this fine anthology, I'll be
conducting interviews with many of the contributors. Today I'm interviewing Colin Fisher, the
talented author who contributed the story "The Early Shift." Thank you for being here, Colin.
COLIN FISHER: Thanks for asking me!
MTI: Starting off,
could you tell our readers a little bit about yourself?
CF: Sure. I live on the outskirts of London,
England, and manage finance systems for a living. It isn’t hugely stressful,
which is great because I’m a firm believer in keeping the work / life balance
tipped in my favour. Before that I managed bookshops, which was a lot more fun
but less ideal for keeping the wolf from the door. I’m married to a wonderful
wife, and have two fantastic (and grown up) children – and they probably
wouldn’t thank me for calling them children! My first love is archaeology,
that’s what I’m qualified in, but never made any serious efforts to make a
profession out of it.
MTI: Now, getting
down to business; what first compelled you to weave fiction, and what's your
favorite type of story to write?
CF: That’s an interesting question, and strangely
not one I’ve ever thought about. I’ve been obsessed with telling stories ever
since I was a child. I would make up stories to tell my older brother when I
was probably no older than 5 or 6, and as soon as I learned to write I wanted to
set them down on paper, or write sequels to my favourite novels. I’ve no idea
where that came from. No-one else in my family tried writing, neither my
parents nor my brother. My mother is a voracious reader, though, and I
certainly picked that up. When I was growing up I would also play long,
solitary games in purely imaginary worlds. I liked nothing better to escape
into our spare room and create elaborate adventures with whatever toys seemed
most suitable. I think storytelling is just an extension of that.
MTI: Tell me, if you
had to pick just one author who has influenced or inspired you, who would it
be?
CF: Well, this is a nightmare question, I can’t
possible pick one! I’ll set aside the obvious – Tolkien, who I read obsessively
from about the age of nine – and try and pick someone else that filled my
childhood with magic, because I’m a firm believer that the books we read when
children are the most important of all. So, either Alan Garner for his vision
and sense of place, or Susan Cooper, because The Dark is Rising is pretty much my
perfect ‘English’ fantasy novel.
MTI: Your story, The
Early Shift, appears in To Hell with Dante, tell us a little bit about
that. What's the general idea behind it?
CF: I’d previously written a story in which a psychopath
uses a magical grimoire to summon a diabolical entity. After I’d written it, I
found myself interested in the origin of the creature. Where did it come from?
Are all these demons and devils just sitting around, waiting for mortals to
undertake a ritual or sell their souls? Don’t they have anything better to do? That’s
where the idea for the Exchange came from. They’re a bit like career
politicians; juniors, the timeservers, go-getters. Everyone just concerned
about their position. That was my starting point, although ultimately I went in
a slightly different direction. I did throw in a reference to the grimoire from
the first story though, as a sort of cheeky self referential nod!
MTI: Does your story
hold any special significance, perhaps seeking to provoke some thoughts about
the afterlife, or was it just a lot of fun fiction?
CF: Well, it’s mostly a lighthearted and
(hopefully) fun story, but there is a serious point behind it about the nature
of evil. That oft quoted banality, the tedious and casual routine of efficient slaughter, and the
mindset that creates. Also, the nonsense of viewing people you’re screwing over
as ‘customers’ was something I found somewhat relevant as well. There were lots
of angles I could have taken, but I didn’t want to labour the point or detract
from the humour. It’s not meant to be a horror story, even though it might give
you pause for thought.
MTI: Okay, on a
totally unrelated note, if you could meet and talk with any one deceased
person, who would it be?
CF: I’m most fascinated by outsiders, people who
live their life completely in the service of their own vision, with little
regard to conventional morality, the opinion of society, or the consequences of
their actions. I’m not really interested in kings, plenipotentiaries or
potentates. So, someone like Shelley for his impractical romanticism, sense of
injustice and total disregard for contemporary mores. Or Jack Parsons, for so
comprehensively uniting science and magic in his actions and imagination. Or
one of the early English Antiquarians, like John Aubrey or William Stukely, for
being the first to recognise the value of heritage and ancient sites, and
taking the effort to travel the country recording it.
Gosh, I’m really no
good at this ‘picking one thing’ lark, am I? One person? Ok, forget the ‘not
interested in Kings’ thing. King Arthur, whoever and whatever he was. For being
the only legendary figure where we can possibly reach back through the mist to
the person behind it. Was he a Romanised Briton holding the fragments of a
crumbling province together? A Celtic resistance fighter? A pre-Roman leader? Actually,
whatever he was, he probably wasn’t a king, so that still holds.
MTI: Great
answer! I'd love to know the
"true" King Arthur, too. Shifting
back to your writing, can you tell us a little about what you're working on
right now?
CF: Sure. I’m trying to get my head around a
children’s book at the moment. I wanted to attempt something in the vein of the
authors mentioned above, sort of ‘rural fantasy’ as opposed to urban fantasy,
which is bandwaggoning (NB – possibly not a real word) at such an alarming rate
I’m not sure I’d have much to add to it, even though I really enjoy the genre. I
have my characters, but they’re currently somewhat directionless, and having
just moved house I haven’t had the time over the summer to devote the attention
that it will need. I’m also working on an adult story about the theft of a
family heirloom which will tie into the children’s book, hopefully. Plus an sf
short which I’ve been working on for about eighteen months. Unfortunately, I
haven’t done myself any favours with the subject – it’s about a young genius,
which means that for every page I write I have to do four hours research to
make it sound even vaguely convincing, since I’m neither young nor a genius.
MTI: Other than your
piece appearing in To Hell with Dante, do you have any other stories being
published in the near future?
CF: I have a couple of stories forthcoming from
Fringeworks Press here in the UK
MTI: On a lighter
note, have you watched any good tv lately?
CF: It’s such an amazing time for tv, an
explosion of talent and creativity. Some of the genre shows I’m watching are
Walking Dead, Game of Thrones, Doctor Who (which has always been my favourite),
and Once Upon A Time, and I’m looking forward to the new series of American
Horror Story. On top of that True Detective was amazing, an astonishing synergy
of script and performance. Last year I was gripped by Top of the Lake, a New
Zealand set drama by Jane Campion, and I’m also really looking forward to the
third series of the Danish / Swedish crime drama The Bridge. There are almost
too many to keep up with, so I have to really pick and choose.
MTI: How about music?
CF: I guess I’d say I’m a rock fan at heart, but do
have fairly eclectic tastes. As a rule, I don’t listen to a lot of blues, but I
recently saw the Blues Pills at an instore in London, and they blew me away. Really
great. But then, there’s so much great music. I love Porcupine Tree – ‘In
Absentia’ was probably the best album of the 2000s for me – but they’re
currently on a sabbatical while their leader Steven Wilson develops his solo
career with similarly extraordinary albums. Wolf People are great, I love the
whole psych rock / folk thing. The last Nightwish album was incredible. I never
thought they’d top their work with Tarja Turunen, but Imaginaerum was just superb.
Suede’s comeback album Blood Sports was fantastic, I’ve seen them a couple of
times since it was released and they’re so cool. If I had to name one highlight
of the last few years though, it would be Dead Can Dance. I never thought I’d
get the chance to see them – their reunion tour in 2005 sold out in about five
minutes, but a couple of years ago they announced a new album and tour, and we
finally got to see them. The whole thing was sublime, almost spiritual. The
sort of thing that sends shivers down your spine.
MTI: What are three
of your favorite movies? You know, the
ones that never get old.
CF: If I was stranded somewhere with no hope of
rescue and only an HD tv for company I’d go for Alien, The Good, the Bad and
the Ugly, and… something funny. It would be a toss up between Carry On
Screaming, Monty Python’s The Holy Grail, or In the Loop. Or maybe Duck Soup.
There you go. I can’t even stick to ‘pick three things.’
What I find interesting
about all of them, and about every film that withstands multiple viewings, is
that the salient element, whether that’s horror, or excitement or humour, or
even the setting, just doesn’t – as you say – get old. It’s always there. Every
time. Whatever that is, that’s the secret of a great movie. Those books you
read again and again have it too.
MTI: Of course,
writers are some of the most voracious readers these days. Tell me, have you run across any great pieces
of literature lately?
CF: I’m just as likely to be reading non-fiction
to be honest – a great piece of history or biography can have all the narrative
pull of a compelling story. But if I had to limit myself to fiction… I loved
Shadow of the Wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafon, for its unbeatable air of Gothic
romance and use of language. Then The Sisters Brothers by Patrick deWitt was
pretty much a cover to cover read. Terrific story, atmosphere and
characterisation. Anything by Michael Gruber, but particularly Tropic of Night.
Terrifying, brutal and evocative. Company of Liars by Karen Maitland. The 14th
Century has never been so chillingly portrayed. A modern Chaucer that builds to
a doom laden and horrific denoument. I’m currently working my way through the
Burton and Swinburne stories by Mark Hodder. So far, I’d put them on the top of
the modern Steampunk pack, which is a genre I’ve loved ever since The Anubis
Gates. For horror, standouts I’ve read of late would be House of Small Shadows
by Adam Nevill and The Terror by Dan Simmons. The former manages to combine the
creepy olde English ambience of strange pagan ceremonies and crumbling villages
with the pure visceral ghastliness of 70s horror films produced by the likes of
Amicus and Tigon, whilst the latter – very different - is a fictional reconstruction
of the fate of the Franklin Expedition, in which the crews of the two ships
meet their fate at the hands of horrors both natural and unnatural. It’s an
incredible, sustained assault on the reader’s peace of mind, and the book seems
imbued with a palpable air of nightmarish torpor and frigidity from start to
finish.
MTI: You have the
attention of potential readers. Do you
have any words of wisdom to share with them, or possibly a sales pitch to
encourage them to read more of your writing?
CF: I try not to offer words of wisdom, it seems
to me advice is so often context sensitive and if you don’t know the situation
of the person in every particular you probably shouldn’t presume to provide it.
Having said that – and I’m sure you could echo this – but since having started
editing I’m astonished at the number of submissions I get that are guilty of
quite basic mistakes. Things that you could avoid if you made even the most
cursory investigation of writers’ blogs or online columns or workshops. So, for
writers, alongside the usual ‘read books’ I’d add ‘read articles.’ Because
chances are that not only has someone made the same mistakes you’re making, but
someone else has provided some good tips for avoiding them. As an example, the
Snow White story I mentioned above has a lengthy action sequence. I wasn’t very
happy with it – it wasn’t the kind of thing I normally did, and it was
unsatisfactory in a way that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. So I researched
‘action sequences’, and understood what it was I was getting wrong. I rewrote
what I had three or four times, paring it right down to the minimum of what it
needed. After that, it might not have been great, but it was at least competent
(I hope). So, really, don’t just assume that something you’ve written is ‘good
enough.’ Nothing is. A book isn’t a tv, or a pair of shoes. You don’t pay more
for higher quality, and you can’t get away with something that ‘will do.’.
Fight that prose to a standstill, and then, and only then, put on its hat and
coat and usher it out the door.
As for sales pitch...
I like to think people get something out of my stories other than the story, if
that doesn’t sound counterintuitive. If writing makes people feel a certain
way, then it’s great writing. Whatever you conjure, and whatever you conjure
with, provides entry to a magical realm of story that we as a species are
privileged to be able to experience. I spend a lot of time writing poetry, and
I’d hope that whatever poetry is, the elusive, the phantasmagorical – I’d hope
that filters through to my stories and their readers, and perhaps punctuates
their experience with a tiny bit of magic.
MTI: Of course,
readers love free samples, so let's give them a taste. Here are the first few paragraphs of your
story, as featured in To Hell with Dante:
Dominic
turned the page with a pale, scarred finger and sighed. He couldn’t remember
one word he had just read. It was a crushingly dull story in which a witless,
pipe smoking detective performed improbable acts of logic in pursuit of tedious
and repetitive crimes. The detective—a pompous and clearly insecure
individual—only seemed to come alive when crossing wits with a succession of
facile villains, after which he felt compelled to explain his native brilliance
to his long suffering factotum at excruciating length. Dominic heartily wished
something about his job made him feel alive. With a flick he tossed the
book into the fire. It would annoy the people upstairs, and that was enough to
give him a small sense of satisfaction. Pathetic. He stretched back in his
armchair, and stared at the ceiling. Despite himself, he wished the phone would
ring.
The room was empty, as always, and
devoid of furnishing other than the worn leather chair that Dominic sat in, the
small table to his right, and the telephone that stood on it. The phone was
antiquated—one of those bakelite models with a rotary dial—and he was sure he’d
been given it as a joke. He hardly ever called out and when he did it went
straight through to the switchboard downstairs where he would tell them what
number he needed. He felt, however, that something altogether more imposing
should sit at his right hand. Something better suited to his own impression of
himself. Dynamic, thrusting, on the up. He grimaced. Somewhere, somehow, he’d
upset someone, and this was his reward. Not for the first time, he wished he
was on the Late Shift.
He scuffed his foot on the floor. He
didn’t even have a carpet, just the bare boards of the old room, and vacant
walls whose wallpaper had long since peeled away, leaving grey plaster and
holes ridden with wood worm and rats. The Late Shift got smartphones, tablets,
and—or so he heard—double glazing. He didn’t need to look behind him at the old
sash window to tell it was frosted with rime and weeping trails of ice.
Thanks
again, Mr. Fisher, for that great interview.
Those who want to check out the rest of his story, and 20 other cynical
afterlife stories, can pick up To Hell with Dante today!
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