Karl Wiggins's Blog - Posts Tagged "writing"

What inspired you to write your latest novel?

Hahahaha, you know full well I don’t answer questions like that. I don’t do the standard Author Interview questions like Do you have a specific writing style? How did you come up with the title? What books have most influenced you? What book are you reading now? Is there a message in your novel that you want readers to grasp?

Hang on; I’ll answer that last one about a message in my writing. First of all I don’t write novels. Huge respect to all the writers out there for their outstanding, far-fetched, comical, sometimes brutal, often ludicrous and downright fab imaginations. I have never, ever written fiction in my life because I completely lack the artistry, yet there are so many writers who allow their imaginations to fly, build a plot, build a sub-plot and continue to write superb story lines in that fashion.

All I’ve ever written is from my observations of life. I’m a piss-taker, which doesn’t necessarily make for a great writer, but it’s what I do. I don’t take my subject matter too seriously, and have little patience for anyone who does. I’m well aware that not everybody ‘gets’ me, but those that don’t can read the next guy’s stuff. I have no problem with that.

We walk a fine line, us writers, living in fear and dread that we might upset someone. And we’re often judged as people by what we write, even though we may be simply playing with words. Critics judge the author as opposed to judging what he writes, which is about as silly as judging the persona of a chef after eating something he’s cooked. I once wrote a poem about a rape, yet that doesn’t mean I’m a rapist. It just means I wrote a poem about a rape.

I’m going off track here, haven’t I? I tend to do that a lot. I’m supposed to be writing about any message in my writing and instead I’ve found myself rambling on about what a ‘fine line us writers walk.’ Christ, where did that line come from?

Okay, is there a message in my writing? Well yeah, there is. My goal, my life’s ambition if you like, is to give direction to comedy, purpose to satire. And this is probably why I write the way I do, in order to use self-deprecating, piss-taking humour to bring to the fore situations that just don’t stack up. To demonstrate that serious issues can be approached with humour.

Embarrassingly, a number of the reviews for my books seem to involve people losing control of their bladder; “Anyone who is a bit saucy, very fond of boobies and doesn’t mind peeing slightly when they laugh too hard, this is the book for you!” “Best not to read this book on the train if you have a full bladder because by the end of your journey you will have a damp patch in an embarrassing place.” “I have to admit that I wet myself twice while reading it but this may in part have been due to my age and a couple of bottles of a fine St. Emilion,” “Due to the laughter you owe my secretary one clean pair of knickers.”

Two reviewers have even suggested I should tour as a stand-up comedian; “I found myself laughing out-loud and even sharing segments with my spouse ….. I think Karl could tour as a stand-up comedian,” “Mr Wiggins has views on life that are expressed in a manner worthy of any stand-up comedian.”

So my scribblings do seem to raise a smile and a chuckle, and either way you look at it, that has to be a good thing. Hardly any subject is taboo to the Englishman when he’s laughing, and this often seems insensitive to other cultures, but the bedrock of the British sense of humour is a strong sense of sarcasm and self-deprecation. The British can be very passionate – and if you doubt that try going to a football match – but that passion is often hidden deep in our humour so that other nationals fail to not only recognise the deadpan delivery and are never too sure if they’ve been involved in a serious conversation or just a little bit of friendly banter. Having said that my style of writing is now appealing more and more to the American market.

So what inspired you to write your latest novel?

You! You inspired me to write my latest novel. My son, Kai, and I were in the local Morrison’s. Kai was planning on cooking fajitas for dinner, Sue was out with the girls and we needed to buy some fajita wraps. Morrison’s is HUGE so it was always going to be a challenge. I asked a girl packing shelves but as Morrison’s employees tend to look after just one section they get a little confused when you ask about something outside of their comfort zone. She pointed towards another bloke in a snazzy Morrison’s green jacket and said, “Ask him, he works in wines & spirits.”

I looked at Kai who raised his eyebrows in a “Are you really sure you want to go this route” kind of look, but as it seemed like the next clue in our ‘task for the day’ we wandered over to the wines & spirits bloke and asked him where we could find fajita wraps, or burrito wraps or enchilada wraps or anything that would do to wrap chicken and guac and sour cream and salsa and cheese and whatever else we decided to put in it.

“Ah,” he said knowledgably, “Probably in the pasta section.”

“Okay, great, where’s that?”

“Do you want a pizza?”

“Pardon.”

“Is it pizza you want?”

“No, I want fajita wraps, otherwise I wouldn’t have asked for fajita wraps.”

“Is it pizza?”

Kai looked at me and raised his eyebrows again as a warning that we were dealing with some kind of sub-human here and perhaps we should make our escape while we were still safe, but I was determined to see it through to the bitter end. “No, it’s not pizza. Fajita wraps aren’t pizza. In fact, I’m not planning on having pizza anytime this week. Otherwise I’d have asked for pizza. I do have plans for dinner tonight though. And they involve cooking fajitas, so I thought I’d buy some wraps to prevent all the chicken and guac and sour cream and salsa falling out of my hands and all over my shirt when I try to eat them.”

“Follow me.”

So we did. We followed Wines & Spirits right the way across the store to the pizza section, where a couple of guys in white ‘Rude Boy’ hats were working. He had a hushed conversation with a lady behind the counter and she looked up and asked me if it was ready-made wraps that I was looking for.

“Yeah, I’d kind of figured that would be better than spending four hours tonight blending flour, baking powder, salt and water together in a baking bowl, kneading the dough and then chucking the whole lot into some kind of a Mexican saucepan. I was half expecting you guys to have prepared these for me so I can just buy the already made tortilla wrap.”

“You don’t want pizza?” from Wines & Spirits.

“Are you taking the pizza, Wines & Spirits?”

“You want ready-made wraps?” from the lady behind the pizza counter.

“Yes.”

So she directed us over to the sandwich section which was next to the pizza counter. Wines & Spirits led the way. And here we found those kinds of ready-made wrap sandwiches that all the supermarkets sell nowadays.

“Listen Wines & Spirits, I’m being very patient with you right now, but we’re planning on eating fajitas tonight. I said that, didn’t I? That’s why I want fajita wraps. Not pizza and not sandwiches. But to eat the fajitas we need to wrap them up in tortilla wraps. If you don’t know where they are, then will you please call a manager?”

“I only work in wines & spirits.”

“I get that, Wines & Spirits, and I’m absolutely sure that if I wanted a rare 1998 Barolo Anteprima you’d be the man for me, but right now I just want some tortilla wraps, and I can see this is taxing you.”

“I think they’re with the pasta,” and off he marched in his stylishly nifty green Morrison’s jacket. Kai and I paced ourselves behind him. It was quite a long journey – the pasta section being at the complete opposite end of the store from the Rude Boys at the pizza counter – but eventually we arrived at the pasta section where we found tortilla wraps for fajitas, enchiladas, burritos and everything else Mexican.

“Listen, Wines & Spirits, ten minutes ago you said we’d find fajita wraps in the pasta section.”

“Yes,” he said proudly, pleased that he was able to help a customer.

“But …. Forget it. Wines & Spirits, it’s been emotional. Thank you.”

And it was at that point that a light bulb came on and I thought to myself, “If I was a writer like that Charlie bloke who’s got books on Amazon I could write about this experience and publish it for posterity. I could make Wines and Spirits famous. His brilliance could be acclaimed down through the centuries.”

You’re not going to tell us your inspirations, are you?

It’s unlikely, isn’t it?

Okay, how do you think Indie writers are perceived nowadays?

Ah ha! I can answer that one! It’s a difficult path that we tread, us Indie self-publishers, but we’re not alone. How many bands practicing in their dad’s garage have heard of a group from the neighbourhood who got signed by a record company? Or how many artists who love to paint, but are not really getting anywhere with it hear of someone they went to art school with being offered an exhibition in a gallery? How many chefs who love to get creative around food hear of someone else who’s just landed a job cooking with Marco Pierre White?

There’s no difference between us and them. There is, however, a huge difference in how everyone else perceives the writer. And there’s a huge difference between all of us – the writers, the musicians, the composers, the chefs, the dance choreographers and to a certain extent the tradesmen – and the rest of society in that no one understands us. It’s a wretched dream to hope that our creativity gets recognised while our family thinks we’re wasting our time when the deck needs painting and the bedroom needs decorating.

It’s acceptable to go into the garage to tinker about with a motorbike, but it’s a waste of a good Sunday afternoon if you go into the garage and practice your guitar, or sit in your study attempting to capture words that have been flowing around your brain, pulsating and swimming, knocking into one another until you can finally ambush them and leak them out onto the page.

Where I grew up businesses were all industry-based, and in those days no one encouraged you to be a writer. There were tradesmen and engineers and you were expected to step into an apprenticeship. If I had gone up to someone and said, “Listen, I’d love to be a writer,” they would have said, “What! What’s wrong with you? You can’t do that kind of stuff.”

“But I’d like to write a book.”

“Jesus, you what! Forget it kid, you’ve got to get a proper job.”

And initially I was influenced by the social norms of the neighbourhood and the other kid’s parents, who were all bricklayers or carpenters or on their way to pursuing an apprenticeship in other trades. That mentality nagged at me until I slowly became more comfortable with pursuing the written word and, at the same time, rejecting the normal role-based society around me. I experimented with creating words more and more, and somewhere deep inside a little bird took wing, for I was becoming acutely aware that I didn’t want to do anything else. I looked around at my friends and their families and decided that I didn’t want to end up where they were headed. I wanted something more out of my life and was searching for the sense of accomplishment and pride that I couldn’t possibly find from working as a bricklayer. I also wanted to travel, but that’s another story. To misquote the poet Robert Frost, “I took the path less travelled, and that has made all the difference.”

You mentioned tradesmen. Would you care to expand? How do they fit in with your list of creative personalities?

Certainly. I don’t think construction workers are always honoured in the way they deserve. Barring natural disasters a house is going to remain standing until it’s demolished, and that’s irrespective of the quality of craftsmanship. But the aesthetic qualities of good bricks will never be appreciated unless the workmanship is of the highest standard. Whether its writing or bricklaying, quality of workmanship will always be the determining factor as to whether or not the finished product turns out mediocre or really exceptional. The choice of brick – just like the choice of words – may well have a large bearing on the aesthetics of a new build, be it a large housing estate or just an ordinary garden wall, but put the trowel in the right hands and poor quality bricks can be made to look much better than they really are.

A good bricklayer can lay his last brick of the day, point up, wash up, turn his back on his day’s work, and every single one of the joints between the bricks will be exactly 15mm. Why? Because he’s done it so many times, that’s why. It’s repetitive.

It’s probably the same for a hairdresser, a mechanic, a musician, a prostitute and I’m sure Masai Warriors hunting lions in the heart of the Masai Mara.

It’s a strange irony that most people who are truly creative don’t really know where their ideas come from. To be a writer, just like all of these crafts mentioned above, is an art form. You can take evening classes in writing at the local library, where you go along every Tuesday night and read out your weekly piece, and that can serve to improve your knowledge, but to be a real writer you have to first of all be an artist. The art of searching for words radiates from deep inside the writer, and I truly feel that when a true writer is sitting quietly at his desk his movements are beautifully interwoven. His breathing will even come with an effortless grace. The ability to move fluidly in his study in this manner begins with a truly intuitive knowledge, although if the truth were known, there’s a little bit of insanity in the writer that does everyone an awful lot of good.

As a form of body language, when the mind is receptive to the sensory experience of his desk, writing speaks the truth about all thoughts and feelings. Now I don’t want to be misunderstood here because this isn’t a special talent or skill. It’s present in all of us. The trick is to discover it, cultivate it and translate it from an internal state to an expressive sensuality. It is truly a creative impulse that unconsciously expresses emotions and can also arouse emotion in the person reading the book. The beauty and harmony of the writer never gets old and there are as many new things to learn each day, as there are varieties of adjectives, nouns and verbs in the world. It is the ultimate way to communicate with your reader. There are hundreds of thousands of bricklayers and musicians, and I’m not belittling them here because we need walls and we need music, but I truly believe that what some of them do comes from a higher source.

Wow! Okay, I can go along with that. Do you feel writers, and other creative people, don’t really get the credit they deserve?

Absolutely. Writers, musicians and artists used to be treated as romantics. The practice of an unconventional ‘Bohemian’ lifestyle, often in the company of like-minded people was really exotic in the 19th century when marginalized and impoverished journalists, artists, writers, actors and musicians lived in the low-class, low-rent Gypsy neighbourhoods of Western Europe and were often regarded as wanderers, adventurers and even vagabonds, practicing free love and frugality. The original Flower Power children.

One of my heroines is Mexican artist, Frida Kahlo, who always gave her birth date to coincide with the start of the Mexican Revolution. Her self-portraits were wild and her love affairs with both men and women included painter Diego Riviera, who she married twice, Russian Marxist revolutionary Leon Trotsky, Ernest Hemingway, Salvador Dalí, art dealers, writers, poets (Andre Breton AND his wife), Japanese sculptors, erotic dancers (The Creole Goddess Josephine Baker), Hungarian photographers and a number of actresses. My affairs include No-Knickers Nicky who I used to sell Timeshare with, Blonde Cathy from Bournemouth and a tubby little waitress with big boobs and a grating Northern accent, I can’t remember her name. Oh, and there was that girl who was married to a mate of mine. She owned a café, but it’s probably best if we say no more about that.

So its plain to see the romance has slightly slipped from the Bohemian lifestyle. But we’re literary Gypsies, all of us, and it’s only since the introduction of the Internet that we’re starting to realise that we’re not alone. The Internet is connecting all the healers and storytellers, the weird people and mystics, the writers and painters, the ones who are slightly cracked. I’ve always loved wild people.

“Here’s to the crazy ones,” said Jack Kerouac, “The misfits, the rebels, the trouble makers. The round heads in the square holes. The ones who see things differently. They’re not fond of rules and they have no respect for the status quo. You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify them or vilify them. The only thing you can’t do is ignore them. Why? Because they change things, that’s why. They push the human race forwards, and while some may see them as the crazy ones, WE SEE GENIUS! Because the people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world, are the ones who do.”

Those are the writers, artists and musicians.

I wrote a poem about Frida Kahlo. I don’t write a lot of poems, it’s not my genre, but I wrote this one for her;

Kahlo is a ‘blue-house’ colour

Although not necessarily blue.

Kahlo is more Acapulco gold

Or burnt Roman ochre

Or even Spanish ochre

With touches of burgundy, nutmeg and bougainvillea.

Kahlo is Mezcal with chilli

Dried citrus peels

Red pepper

Cedar

And cigar leaf

Woody notes

And heat sneaking up fast.

Kahlo is pink mountains of shrimp in the markets

And barrio fiestas

Where exotic Tehuana women with flowers in their hair

Dance with rhythm and dignity

While their long rabona skirts

Billow out around them

Lo que el agua me ha dado

Kahlo is the colour of wild people and free thinkers

Frida Kahlo is the colour of legends

Myths

And cult figures

“Diego on my mind” is Kahlo coloured.

I hope the end is joyful

And I hope never to come back.

Do you have any favourite writers or book?

Absolutely, I love American low life; Bukowski, Harry Crews, John Fante, Dan Fante. I love Steinbeck too. One of my favourite books is Cannery Row. In fact my two favourite books are Flesh and Blood by Pete Hamill and Sailor by Richard Jessop. They’re both out of print but I’ve read them several times.

Has your style of writing ever been compared to anyone else?

Hahahaha, you won’t believe this, but yes. Two people, both now dead, Charles Bukowski and Socrates. Their names keep popping up in reviews; “Mr Bukowski, meet Socrates. This is an exceptionally amusing collection of observations of daily life,” “The prose style reminded me quite a lot of Charles Bukowski’s short essays and observations,” “It reminded me a lot of Bukowski’s novels, but particularly Factotum and Post Office,” “Had me laughing out loud several times, which doesn’t happen often to me. It reminded me a lot of Bukowski’s novels,” (I swear those are two completely separate reviewers), “Karl Wiggins is like a contemporary Socrates.” When I read that, I was like blimey!

Any Indie writers who you’d like to mention?

Karl: Oh yeah, of course, of course. You’re not bad yourself actually, and there’s a few others out there who are really talented. Jackie (JM) Johnson is a completely unsung talent. She’s written a series of books called ‘The Starbirth Assignment’ which is a mixture of S.A.S. with futuristic powers chasing down drug barons. Really, really good.

Travis Casey is another talent. Light-hearted easy-to-read, not quite what you’d call erotica, but enough sex and amusing situations to keep you entertained.

Carole McKee is an exceptional writer. I’d describe her as YA for grown-ups. And I’d like to make something perfectly clear. If anyone saw me on the train to work reading `Choices’ and looking like I was welling up ….. I wasn’t. I’d just pulled a hair out of nose, that’s all, okay? Wasn’t crying! Now that we’ve cleared that up, I’d also like to state that I’m not a real big Romance reader. The Romance genre isn’t my first choice of book. But this bloody story captured me. And it just gets better and better! I don’t wish to be a spoiler but full marks to Carole McKee for not only addressing a number of sensitive issues but having the insight to look at them from both sides of the coin. McKee forces you to make judgments and then breaks down the barriers by impressing upon the reader to see things in a different light.”

Another great writer is Anita Melillo, who has an exquisite writing style. She epitomises what every struggling scribbler is attempting to create when they attend a `creative writing’ course and have been set exercises to complete before they go back to the scout hall or Fuchsia’s house next Tuesday to read their pieces to the group. Anita however, has cracked it! I am totally in awe of the manner in which she draws the reader in, brings to life the various settings in which we find the protagonist and crams so much into her novels without making it seem overcrowded. You’ve got romance, you’ve got the horror of hand-to-hand fighting during the civil war, you’ve got Indian camps and most importantly you’ve got family as the main theme running through her books.

Other authors who’ve impressed me recently are Hunter S. Jones, M.K. Jubb, K.R. Rowe, Zoe Saadia and Sue Whitmer, who’s written a beautiful about hoarders entitled ‘Collecting Dreams.’

If you like erotica Billierosie is the absolute best. Unlike some of these awful books where they both jump into bed with each other as soon as they meet, Billierosie writes with intelligence, building plots and sub-plots around the story.

And there’s a new poet on the scene that’s well worth checking out. Doc Wallace. I’m bound to have missed someone out, but these are people I get excited about when I hear they’ve brought out a new book

Finally, you write mostly in the comedy vein, and there’s sometimes a lot of anger in your writing, but in this interview you’ve shown a different side to yourself. What essentially annoys you about the self-publishing industry?

Do you know what annoys me, Charlie? Writers who insult the reader. I have absolute respect for the reader and I love to hear from them, but do you know what’s really starting to get on my tits? It’s these stupid Facebook pictures of people reading books and little quotes on them making out that reading is the only thing that life’s about. It’s not! There are far more important things than reading. Family and friends for instance, spending time with your kids.

Now we all know this. There’s nothing new here, but these stupid little quotes with pictures of people reading books are designed for one thing, and that’s to make out to the reader that they have to purchase more books in order for their life to be complete.

I’ve got a few here. Here’s a really bad one, “I’m not ignoring you, it’s just that I belong to this book right now.” WHAT! Please spare me!

Here’s another one, “She who reads is booked every night.” That’s a T-shirt. Do you get it? Do you see the clever, adept play on words? Booked, yeah? As in booked like she’s got loads of mates, and booked as in books. Brilliant, huh? Do you think the same people write this crap also pen those stupid little jokes that fall out of Christmas crackers?

“Life is an open book full of blank pages. You write the story as you go.” Oh, piss off!

“Reading books is the most glorious pastimes that humankind has yet devised.” Well, it’s not is it? Making love has to figure somewhere close to the top of the list. Or how about a good dinner party with old friends where the banter is just flowing? What about watching your kid play football and seeing him score a goal. The expression on his face. Is reading books more ‘glorious’ than any of those? Of course it’s not.

“The giddy feeling you get when you walk into a bookshop.” What giddy feeling. I don’t know about you but I get a giddy feeling when I step off the treadmill at the gym. And also on my way to a kebab shop after sinking about 13 pints. But walking into a bookshop. Nope, not me.

“To reach the top we stand on the books we’ve read.” I don’t know what to say about that. It’s just bloody stupid, isn’t it?

“Some girls dream of a big walk-in closet in their bedroom. I want a walk-in library in mine.” That’s because you’re Billy-no-mates who never gets invited out with the girls!

“Start a book. Ten hours later realise you haven’t eaten or gone to the bathroom.” What are you, stupid? Why haven’t you eaten? Are you trying to make out to the reader that books are that good that you so lose yourself in them that the rest of your life completely fizzles out. Maybe next week you’ll read for a whole week. Perhaps you’ll start reading a book at a bus stop and they’ll find your skeleton in fifty years time.

“Read! It’s music you hear with your eyes!” Don’t be so bloody stupid. Of course it’s not. Music you hear with your eyes, my arse!

“You can’t buy happiness but you can buy books, and that’s kind of the same thing.” Oh, piss off!

Here’s a good one, “You know you’re a book lover when books are top of the list of things you’d save in a fire.” Of course they’re not. Any of us, once we’ve got the people out of the building, will save the photographs WAY BEFORE books!

“A book commits suicide every time you watch a reality show.” Oh, grow up, please. A book commits suicide ….. was the person who wrote this on ketamine at the time?

“A book is a friend whose face is constantly changing. If you read it when you are recovering from an illness, and return to it years after, it is changed surely with the change in yourself.” Eh? I mean, how lame is that?

“Being somewhere with friends or family and thinking ‘I could be reading right now,’” makes you a really sad bastard indeed.

“Let’s go library hopping. It’s like bar hopping for intelligent people.” Hey, yeah let’s! Count me in! Rather than go to the bar with a good crowd, have a few drinks, a few laughs, I’d sooner be sitting in the library with all those intelligent people!

“We lose ourselves in books. We find ourselves there too.” Fuck off! I wish you’d fucking stay lost!

“Books make great gifts because they have whole worlds inside of them. And it’s much cheaper to buy somebody a book than it is to buy them the whole world.” Dude, you need to get out more.

“People who know and love the same books as you have the road map to your soul.” What utter shit! Why don’t we download our latest New Age track of a couple of dogs pissing in a tin can before we read that quote again. I’m sure we’ll find a hidden deeper meaning.

“A room without books is like a body without a soul.” Do you think it’s just one person who writes all this crap? Or is there like a community of scary people who talk shit like this to each other on a daily basis?

I don’t know the answer, but I have a sneaking suspicion that all of this crap is written with the reader in mind, for the sole purpose to get him/her to part with his hard-earned money and buy another book. It’s not supposed to be this way. Books are great. Reading’s great. And if you find a book you enjoy, then tell your mates and try another one by that author. That way perhaps he/she can afford to keep writing. But reading books is certainly not the most important thing on the planet.

Karl, thank you. A last word?

Yeah. After anyone has finished a book, please go back to Amazon and leave a review on it. Doesn’t have to be anything special, just a bit of a blurb, but reviews really are bread & water to a struggling scribbler. It really is appreciated.

Wow, and that’s what you call an interview. Personally, I’m captivated by this guy. He writes in the same genre as me, but he’s a lot braver. When he rants, he doesn’t let political correctness get in the way, and I love that. I buy everything he writes and devour it