Dennis Lehane is the bestselling author of
Mystic River and
Gone, Baby, Gone. Mr. Lehane graciously agreed to take some time and answer a few questions for "Ask the Writer," including his thoughts on the movie business, his upcoming novel
The Given Day (Sept. 2009), and whether there is in fact any hope for the aspiring novelist.
Just what does it take to make it as a writer? What are the perks and pitfalls of a writing life? And, perhaps most importantly, does Dennis Lehane hate ballpoint pens? Read on to find out.
Q: In your forthcoming novel, The Given Day, you vividly bring to life
an expanse of Boston history, from the Spanish influenza outbreak to
the Police Strike of 1919. What was it like to write such a sweeping,
complicated, and intricate novel?
A: The
short answer is it sucked. I would strongly recommend nobody ever attempt a
historical epic. It's for crazy people. Way too much hard work. I'm glad it's
done. I hope it's good.
Q: What is your favorite aspect of writing, or of
being a writer? Can you think of a specific story to go along with that part of
your writing life?
A: Sometimes,
you go to your desk first thing in the morning and there's nothing in your head
but the lyrics to Viva Las Vegas.
Yet, somehow by the end of the day, you've created characters from nothing but
ether and had them walk around doing interesting things. That "somehow" is why
I love what I do. I also like having a job that doesn't require shaving. I
enjoy being able to crack a beer at work if I feel like it. If I wore pajamas,
I could spend my entire work day in them; I don't wear pajamas, but the
principle still applies.
Q: Events
in The Given Day sometimes eerily
parallel 21st century America. As I read the book I came to understand that
this is not the first time America has faced such broad insecurity. To what
extent did these parallels--the immigration tensions, terrorism threats, and
economic uncertainties, to name a few--inform your writing for a contemporary
audience?
A: The
parallels reared their head very early. I had no hand in that; the gods wrapped
me a gift. All I had to do was put it to paper; editorializing or commenting on
the parallels in any fashion would have been redundant. History proves that,
time and time again, fear or the perception of powerlessness produces fascist
impulses in people and societies. The more afraid you are, the more vicious and
infantile you usually become. I don't think I say anything revolutionary in
that regard with The Given Day, but
that doesn't mean it shouldn't be said and said as much as possible.
Q: Two of your previous novels--Mystic River and Gone, Baby, Gone--were made into major Hollywood films (to critical
acclaim). How was your experience with those films, from preproduction to
premier, and how do you view the relationship between film making and
publishing?
A: Film
and books share a narrative identity, but that's about it. Film is passive
entertainment; books are active. Film is interpretative of the book it adapts,
but the book itself is procreative in a way that film can't be. Put another
way, if a film is an omelet, the book is the hen. My experience with film, thus
far, has been overwhelmingly positive. I've been blessed with two terrific
scripts, two exceptionally talented directors (who, oddly, both came from an
acting background) and their interpretations have been respectful of the source
material without making the mistake of being reverential. Can't say enough
about Señors Eastwood and Affleck really--both were true gentlemen in every
sense of the word, both were very determined to deliver visions of my novels
that were decidedly un-Hollywood, and both invited me into the process at the
earliest stages and kept me involved through the premieres and, in the case of Mystic River, well into awards' season.
In both cases, outstanding omelets.
Q: John Gardner once wrote that the question he
was most asked was, "Do you write with a pen, a pencil... or what?" He said he
thought this question delved into the mystical aspect of writing, and
questions, at its deepest level, whether there is in fact any hope for the young writer. So I have to
ask, do you write with a pen, a pencil... or what? Is there any hope, and, if
there is, what is your best advice to students and aspiring authors?
A: Why
wouldn't there be hope? You wake up, you decided you want to tell a story, you
try that thing. Right from Jump Street, you are involved in an act of creation
and what's more hopeful than that? Where people make a potentially catastrophic
mistake is to think they can take shortcuts. Sorry, but there aren't any. No
matter what the How To Write a Bestseller books tell you (normally written by
people who've never written bestsellers; interesting) or the "10 Tips to
Writing the Perfect Thriller Every Time!" articles in writers magazines, the
truth is that this is hard, hard work. It is not for the lazy or those who
confuse wanting something with earning it. Good writing is about depth--depth of
character and structure and insight and language. If you're not willing to
accept that and earn your keep, well, maybe there is no hope. But if you are
willing to work, then, heck, there's no reason you can't be the next Toni
Morrison.
I
write with a pen and it's got to be a rollerball. I hate ballpoint like I hate
cilantro. In fact, if ballpoint was all that was left in the world, I might
never produce another line.
Remember, if you're out there writing, don't give up. I had to post this cartoon; it's just too funny. It's funny because the satisfaction is in the writing, not in being "rich and famous." Charles Schultz knew that, too, of course.
