The Difference is Devotion
Possession, Obsession and a Diesel Compression Engine author Gerard Brennan on what sets Northern Irish crime fiction apart, on horror versus chick-lit, and how a writing career began with getting beat up in a pub in Wexford. Unruly email interview, April 2008.
Critical Mick: Are you the Devil?
Gerard Brennan: Why? What have you heard?
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 Critical Mick's review of Gerard Brennan's Possession, Obsession and a Diesel Compression Engine
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CM: Well there's a lot of swapping of souls and guitars at crossroads in your first book.
GB: Why did I write a bunch of stories dealing with the devil and all that jazz? Honestly, I've no idea. I'm not angry at religion or anything like that. And I've heard it said more than once that devil stories are ten-a-penny, but every single one of these little tales were great fun to write.
CM: OK, that's "Why" covered. How, when and where were the stories in Possession, Obsession and a Diesel Compression Engine written?
GB: Well, the book consists of six interlinked shorts and they were all written at different times, over the last few years, but I think I always had it in my head that they'd end up in the same place as they all have a similar theme and style.
GB con't: The first of the collection written actually appears first in the line up. I wrote "Bloodbath" as an experiment when I bought my first laptop, about eight years ago. Wow. I didn't realise that until I counted it! I don't think I was trying to say anything significant at the time, just wanted to have a bit of fun with a very bloody and tongue-in-cheek flash fiction piece. But it's found its way onto my most recent computer (after four upgrades/changes or varying success) and I still like it for what it is.
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GB: "Bloodbath" formed the kernel for my very first novel-length manuscript, Fireproof. But I'll not go into that right now, or this answer will become longer than the chapbook you've just asked me about!
GB: The other five stories were written quite a while after that. When I began to take writing more seriously and made an effort to really get myself out there. Three years ago, my little girl, Mya, came into the world and I lost all of my free time. Not a bad thing, as thinking back, I seriously squandered it on booze and games consoles. In fact, the only thing I did of any worth before Mya came along was talk her mother, Michelle, into marrying me. Apparently, being devilishly handsome is only part of the battle in the game of love. You have to be a good person too!
GB: Anyway, I've always fancied myself as a rebel without a clue. Writing has become a rebellion against all the single, childless smartarses who told me my life was over. To me it's only beginning.
GB: Where am I going with this?
GB: Oh, aye. The chapbook. I wrote the other stories about two to three years ago either on lunch-breaks at my office dayjob or late at night in the spare room, then the old nursery. And when Jack, my son, came along last year, I rewrote them and edited them in the corner of the living room.
CM: Blah blah blah choruses of literary voices blah blah eager to be heard blah blah. What do you do to make your own voice distinct? Why should readers who are looking for something fun & frightening pick up PODCE rather than a Stephen King, Elizabeth Kostova, Philip Henry or Mark Leslie?
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GB: I can be an awful calculating bugger at times, and I know that it's pretty damn cool to be Irish. I play on that. A lot. And I love to smudge the lines separating black and white when dealing with my characters. I love to experiment with the idea that good people can sometimes do really bad things and vice versa. It keeps it all very human, even if a forty-foot, classical version of Satan is one of your protagonists.
CM: What's one thing you know about writing now that you did not realize when you started rattling keys?
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[Northern Irish writers] are telling the stories that in the past have been over-shadowed by the men in balaclavas.... It's not that we don't want to mention the war. We just want to show that's not what we're all about. |
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GB: It's bloody hard work!
CM: Tell the good readership about your road to print.
GB: Back when I was in school, I wanted to be a writer, but the careers officer didn't have an information pack on the vocation, so I figured it was impossible. After that, I pretended I wanted to be a solicitor, accountant, gangster, priest and lorry driver at varying points in my life. Naturally, I got closest to becoming an accountant, the job least likely to cause a stir at dinner parties.
GB: For years I figured that you had to be some sort of mystical being to write books for a living. And you had to be able to type!
GB: I dropped out of university after I realised I'd run out of scholarly steam and got a job in an office. I learned how to type faster than I could write with a biro there. Then I figured out how to use the internet! I discovered a site (ralan.com) that directed you to various markets ranging from non-paying to pro-rate markets. I subbed a rugged story about getting beat up in a pub in Wexford after a game of pool to an anthology featured there and it was accepted. One of the editors, Mike Stone, took a real shine to the tale and helped me iron out the kinks. I'd made a few rookie mistakes. The fact that there were no commas being one of the most memorable problems with it.
GB: Mike, as subtly as one can be in such things, suggested I could learn a thing or two by joining the online workshop he'd been using for a while (critters.org). I've had some interesting responses to my work there and some crazy ones, but there's no denying, it worked for me and I improved my craft over a couple of years' membership. I'm still an active member.
GB: Over the last few years I've sold some short stories to small press magazines and anthologies, some print, some electronic, and a micro press published PODCE through lulu.com. Now I'm trying to sell novels. It's not much different as far as I can see. You wait and wait and wait and I'm still waiting. My first novel, Fireproof, has been rejected from a one or two places this year but, there're still a number of houses featuring it in their slush-pile. My second novel, Piranhas, is doing better. It earned me funding from the Arts Council of Northern Ireland and that allowed me to take a month off work and buy a new laptop. I finished the final draft a month ago and already two publishers are seriously considering it. A step up from outright form rejection! But if it doesn't pan out, I'm prepared to write ten more books if that's what it takes to get one published.
CM: Why do you think Piranhas has had more success?
GB: Because it's a post-Troubles crime fiction novel and at the minute they're more popular in Northern Ireland. As a new writer, you really do have to write for the market. When you're famous enough to call the shots, do whatever the fuck you want.
CM: Your fellow Northern Irishman Darryl Sloan made some excellent recommendations on self-publishing and the all-important marketing and promotion that makes SP/POD books a success. Any useful tips to add?
GB: Although my chapbook is published as a POD on lulu.com it isn't actually self-published. Baysgarth Publications is a very new, very small press that handled things such as formatting and pricing. But as far as promoting the chapbook goes, that's all been up to me so far. So I'm going to visit Darryl's site in the near future to take advantage of his tips in that area.
GB: So far I'm depending on old and new internet contacts to give me the odd shout out. I've also contacted local papers and places like the Creative Writers Network in Belfast who've provided an extra bit of publicity. From my limited experience to date, I'd say that the most important thing to do is get out there and tell anybody who'll listen about what you do. Even if you're shy or a little bit modest. Get over it and push yourself.
CM: Darryl sometimes dresses up like a zombie or a spacealien. Do you ever disguise yourself as an exorcist or maybe a fedora-topped guy with really, really tough feet and teeth?
GB: Hell, yeah. Even when it's not my stag night.
CM:Darryl is also a horror filmmaker. Do you have a similarly interesting second job, hobby, passion-?
GB: Actually, I do. I'm not sure if it's impatience, short attention span or I'm just trying to bang on every door I see and see which one opens first, but this year I finished a crime caper screenplay set in Belfast and my hometown, Warrenpoint. I've co-written three-quarters of a stage play with my dad, based on family stories about a shebeen my grandfather ran in the seventies, and I've started writing a radio play.
GB: Also, I ran a martial arts club for a year and a half, but after I got funding from the Arts Council of Northern Ireland to complete Piranhas, I figured I'd take a year out of training and instructing Wing Tsun kung fu and split that time between my family and writing. I don't regret it, but if I were ever lucky enough to write for a living, I'd definitely want to go back to instructing part time. Taking time off from the club was a very hard decision to make, but I'm only one person. I hope.
CM: You're not only an author, you are also the webmaster of Crime Scene NI. What's the Northern Irish crime-fic scene like?
GB: It rocks! And if you want to know more about it, drop by the site. Please?
CM: There's been an explosion of Irish crime fic in recent years. What makes Irish crime fiction different than UK or US crime fiction?
GB: There's the fact that we've always had a strong lineage of talent. You know the names. The ones the pubs have been named after. The Irish love their writers because they reflect reality so well. Charming and poetic, but with a temper on them. There's a dark side to all the Irish crime fiction I've read, because the writers have the guts to get in there and explore their own tortured souls. The difference is devotion.
CM: What makes NI Crime Fiction different than Irish crime fiction in general?
GB: The accent? No, that's too flippant. I think the biggest difference lies in the way that each NI writer has chosen to handle the infamy of the Troubles. Bateman looks at the funny side of it, which is how many have dealt with it. And so long as it's a Northern Irish accent joking about it, it's all right. In their debut novels, Jason Johnson got stuck right in with the indignity angle, Tony Bailie ignored it and Brian McGilloway paid lip-service to it. In Sam Millar's latest I don't remember there being a Republican or Loyalist paramilitary faction mentioned. We're telling the stories that have been over-shadowed by the men in balaclavas in the past. My opinion as an emerging writer? It's not that we don't want to mention the war. We just want to show that's not what we're all about.
GB: Is it just me or is it getting awful serious here?
CM: Hey! I see you've done some kick-ass interviews of your own.
GB: Thanks for the subject change. Yes, I have! They've all been kickass thanks to the interviewees. They've all been inspiring and comforting.
CM: And some cool reviews.
GB: Yeah. The reviews will stay cool too. Mostly because I don't finish the books I'm not enjoying. I could never feel justified in doing the dishonest thing and reviewing a bad book based on three bad opening chapters. And anyway, why wallow in negativity? There's loads of that out there.
CM: Whose writing do you admire?
GB: I have a lot of favourite authors and I read widely but here's a few that have stuck out recently. Colin Bateman, Ken Bruen, Ben Elton, Derek Landy, Tony Bailie, Jason Johnson, Sam Millar, Brian McGilloway, Stephen King, Dean Koontz, Terry Pratchett, Neil Gaiman, Ian McDonald, Michael Stone (the Stoke-on-Trent one), Declan Hughes, Joseph O'Connor... there's more, but this has to stop.
CM: Have you read Bram Stoker's Dracula? What's your opinion?
GB: Yes, but I was twelve so my opinion would probably differ after a reread. At the time I found it very different from the film with Winona Ryder in it, but I think I liked it. But I read Stephen King's It the same year and because of the sheer size of that book, the memory is truly unreliable. But the fact that the Irish can lay claim to a renowned horror writer of his fame and success as part of their pedigree I'm quite surprised that supernatural horror is not given more attention here nowadays. Compare the size of the horror section to the chick lit section next time you go to your local bookshop. Forbidden Planet doesn't count.
CM: Have we read any of the same shtuff? (Critical Mick Full alphabetic index) Was my review way off about them?
GB: We have read some of the same stuff, and I lost a chunk of time finding that out, you scoundrel. Excellent Stoker review, by the way. We agreed on Bateman's offerings, Bolger's Father's Music, Doyle's A Star Called Henry and... well, then I skipped to S to see what you thought of Stoker and forgot I was meant to be doing this. But I went back to see what you thought about O'Connor's Secret World of The Irish Male. I enjoyed it more than you it seems, even though I'm not really a football fan myself. As the kids say, I 'lol'ed quite a few times. And I read and enjoyed Desperadoes, though I thought The Salesman was a better book.
CM: What project are you working on now?
GB: Mostly I'm chipping away at The Sweety Bottle, a play about a West Belfast shebeen. Also I've been asked to write a few short stories for some and coming anthologies. A first for me and a real compliment.
CM: If you wake up tomorrow as the next Darren Shan or Derek Landy—that is, a rich & famous Irish horror writer—what will you miss about your life as it is today?
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GB: If I could see the back of my fulltime job I'd be happier than a pig in shite. Not because I don't want to work or don't like the people I work with. It's because without it, I'd have more time to spend with my wife and kids, the favourite things I'm taking with me when I'm rich and famous.
CM: If you only ever make it big to a few readers, what will you miss?
GB: Writing.
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I love to experiment with the idea that good people can sometimes do really bad things and vice versa. It keeps it all very human, even if a forty-foot, classical version of Satan is one of your protagonists. |
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GB: No, I'm kidding. I'd be happy with that. As much as I bitch about my job and commuting, it pays the bills. But I don't live to work, I work to live. Writing is more than a dream profession to me. It's a passion. Some people love collecting stamps. I don't. I love writing.
CM: If you were granted three wishes – and didn't even need to give your soul to Satan for 'em- what would they be?
GB: That my kids grow up happy and healthy. Enough money to do what my wife and I want, but not so much that we don't have to do anything. Rock-hard abs.
CM: What's on your nightstand at the moment?
GB: Brian McGilloway's Borderlands and a collection of plays by Declan Hughes.
CM: Finally: what's in your garage? (If the answer is one of those scary cars from PODCE, I'm moving to someplace not connected by road to Northern Ireland!)
GB: Actually, up until three months ago I owned a Ford Focus called Freddy, who'd been rechristened as Zombie Freddy after his engine blew out and I got it replaced. But zombie cars are sluggish and unreliable it seems. I traded in my inspiration for the story Road Rage for a Hyundai. It was the dying accountant in me that opted for the remaining four years of a five-year warranty. He's called Henry. You're safe enough, I guess. Until I make enough dough to buy that Plymouth Fury I've been eyeing up.
CM: I will now back away slowly toward that lifeboat, smiling broadly.
Best of luck to Gerard Brennan!!
To learn if it is safe to walk on Irish streets, visit www.gerardbrennan.co.uk.
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