The
ShatterColors
Standard Interview
-- Author Version:
Robert Levin
(Interview
consists of 15
pre-set questions.
Authors have published
at least one novel
or short story/poetry
collection.)
1)
Why did you begin
writing, and how
long have you
been doing so?
I started writing
when I was ten,
the day after
my mother showed
me a booklet of
stories that my
father, and in
his own hand,
had written for
her. In just weeks
my mother had
a volume of MY
collected works
to read. Not counting
interruptions
that are common
to the biographies
of all writers
of any merit—intervals
devoted to drinking,
drug abuse and
womanizing—I’ve
been writing ever
since. Which is
to say for some
time.
2)
What does your
writing routine
consist of?
I
write best in
the period that
immediately follows
waking up. To
arrive at this
special place
more than once
a day—and
I’ll swear
to the death that
this is the sole
reason—I
take frequent
naps.
3)
Have specific
events ever flung
you into an extended
and productive
period of creativity?
Pointed
reminders of my
mortality have
always worked
wonders for my
productivity.
4)
What are common
sources of inspiration?
Reading
writing that’s
superior to mine,
especially writing
that addresses,
or touches upon,
my own themes.
That and conversations
with people who
at once encourage
me to express
my ideas and challenge
me to better articulate
them.
5) What does a
book need to do
to get you to
read it from beginning
to end?
I
rarely read books
for entertainment
purposes alone.
(I use presidential
debates for that.)
I belong to a
generation that
read books to
learn more about
life. I would
open a new novel
by Hemingway,
Steinbeck or Faulkner
with the expectation
that my consciousness
would be raised.
To sustain my
interest, a book
still has to be
telling me things
I don’t
already know.
6)
Who are some of
the authors you
most admire?
I
admire, and for
a variety of reasons,
a great many writers.
The four who’ve
had the most direct
and enduring influence
on me are Norman
Mailer, Ernest
Becker, Amiri
Baraka (when he
was LeRoi Jones)
and Dave Barry.
7)
How familiar are
you with the literary
canon?
I
was a lit major
in college and
I’ve read
most of the classics.
That there remain
significant gaps
in my reading
is something I
tend not to flagellate
myself over anymore.
8)
What’s your
take on politics
and literary endeavor?
If
you’re asking
if it’s
okay for writers
to make a political
tract of their
fiction I’d
say that there
have certainly
been writers who’ve
done that and
managed to create
exceptional literature
in the process.
But fictional
prose that’s
intended to convey
a political message
is usually too
bridled by its
agenda for me
to take much pleasure
in reading it.
9)
What are your
feelings about
formal vs. free
verse?
If
I were a poet,
and I learned
early on that
I wasn’t,
I would probably
worry about such
details. As a
reader, it’s
the vision and
talent of the
poet that concerns
me, not the discipline
he or she is coming
from. Having said
that, and having
been inundated
by classical verse
in school, I’m
more likely to
look into a poem
that’s been
composed in a
modern rather
than a traditional
manner.
10)
Do you feel “flash”
fiction (300 words
or less) is a
viable form, or
nothing more than
a writing exercise?
It’s
an exercise when
that’s all
that it amounts
to. It becomes
a legitimate and
viable form when
a writer who’s
using it writes
something terrific.
For me, however,
form always follows
content. I might
write a piece
that by chance
came to 300 words,
but I would never
deliberately confine
myself to a pre-fixed
word count.
11)
When not writing,
what do you do
for amusement?
You
mean besides Googling
myself? Well,
that’s it.
I Google myself.
No.
There are times,
of course, when
it’s absolutely
necessary to empty
your head of thought.
But advancing
in age and a considerable
distance shy of
what I hoped to
accomplish by
now, I try, when
I’m not
writing, to not
stray too far
from it. My choices
of recreation
tend to be things—books,
theater, “quality”
films—that
promise to be
intellectually
stimulating and
to keep my mind
sharp.
12)
What’s one
of the most annoying
things you can
think of?
What’s
guaranteed to
spill bad chemicals
in my brain is
arrogant stupidity.
13)
Briefly describe
what you consider
to be one of your
standout childhood
pranks.
I’m
put in mind of
an incident in
a nursery school
when I was five.
Precociously philosophical
and already cultivating
the maverick persona
I would continue
to hone throughout
my life, I was
prepared to question
every custom and
convention I came
across. In this
particular case,
and in respect
to the different
uses assigned
to various waste
disposal receptacles,
I found myself
challenging what
seemed to me to
be the arbitrariness
of strict designations.
Removing my fresh
feces from the
toilet, I placed
them into an adjacent
trash basket.
(When five minutes
later what I’d
done met with
universal condemnation
from my peers
and supervisors,
I was convinced
that I was on
to something.)
14)
What are your
upcoming projects/works
in progress?
Edward
Albee was ready
to punch me in
the mouth when
I asked him a
similar question
years ago. Later,
in respect to
my own work—and
with all proportions
kept, of course—I
would understand
his rage. I can
lose a piece forever
by discussing
it. (And it makes
no difference
if the response
I get is negative
or positive.)
Talking about
ideas in the abstract
is good—it’s
invigorating.
But describing
something I’m
writing, or planning
to write, is,
in effect, to
“publish”
it. And with what
should have been
the final step
of the project
already taken,
I tend to separate
from it. The sense
of urgency and
the emotional
engagement with
it that I need
to go on slips
away.
15)
Care to conclude
with a sweeping
philosophical
statement?
It’s
been a conviction
of mine for quite
a while that to
stifle too much
consciousness
of our mortal
condition—or
to twist and belie
the unacceptable
fact of it—constitute
the true objectives
of virtually everything
we do. We can
immerse ourselves
in endless discussions
about the economic,
social, political,
psychological,
historical and
cultural factors
that determine
and shape our
beliefs and behavior,
but when we do
that we are obfuscating
the most important
factor: the need,
constant, urgent
and universal—and
demanding the
cultivation of
all manner of
evasions, illusions
and delusions—to
mollify our fear
of extinction.
I
know how disagreeable
this notion is,
even to people
inclined to concede
the truth of it.
To acknowledge
what’s really
driving us leaves
us to confront
precisely what
we’re trying
to flee. We want
to stay ignorant
of where we’re
coming from and
with good reason.
But considering
what’s going
on in the world
right now, the
failure to recognize
for what they
are the distortions
of reality that
we concoct and
entertain in order
to deny the prospect
of oblivion can
come at a very
high price for
everyone—a
price that’s
greater than the
rewards. The Muslim
suicide bombers
who’ve discovered
a quick and certain
passage to eternal
life (the objection
to a Western presence
in the Middle
East is only a
rationalization),
and the Christians
who helped to
twice elect a
dangerously feckless
president because
he professed to
share their belief
in death-transcending
myths are just
two of the more
salient demonstrations
of my point.
Now
if you were to
ask me what I
think writers
are for I would
say, with my bias
duly noted, that
it’s to
enlighten us on
this issue (and
its myriad secular
as well as religious
aspects). And
I think that authors,
however edgy,
deep and “serious”
they may be, who
ignore or skirt
the critical dynamic
of death denial—who
don’t in
some way attempt
to remind readers
of the real purpose
of their actions—are
only reinforcing
the reader’s
willful innocence.
They’re
writing, in essence,
what amount to
children’s
books.
______________
The
ShatterColors
Standard Interview
-- Author Version
©
2006 by Robert
Scott Leyse
Robert Levin Responses
© 2008 by
Robert Levin
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