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The novel Intelligence Manifesto seems like it could parlay itself into a series. Did you have this in mind while writing it? If so, how does that affect the writing process? I definitely have a large-scale story architecture in mind, and Intelligence Manifesto is only the beginning. The plot details of a possible sequel are pretty clearly worked out in my mind, and beyond that, I've already thought through a few narrative lines that might someday turn into a third, a fourth, and maybe even a fifth installment in the series. And I knew all of this before I started drafting Intelligence Manifesto. But at the same time, I always knew exactly when, where, and how Intelligence Manifesto would end, and when I was writing it, I tried to make sure that although it definitely leaves the door open for future novels, it had to work by itself too. And I think it worked out pretty well in that regard. Readers get some fairly solid answers to the novel's major questions, but those answers serve to open up bigger questions . Did you do any research into private investigators or police procedure? Yes, but it was nothing very extensive or systematic. In one sense, if you read private investigator or police novels, you pick up some of the conventions that way. But one of the more specific things I did was to look at web sites and yellow page listings for private investigators, just to see how they presented themselves to the public and how they explained the kinds of work they do for clients. Part of the undercurrent of Intelligence Manifesto is that the C.A. Wilson Agency, where David West works, is somewhat mysterious. There's an air of secrecy about the work they do, and in the case of David West's semi-paranoid coworker, there's a suspicion that the Agency is up to something that even its employees know little about. You say that, had you written an episode of The X-Files, this novel would be it. What else influences or inspires your writing? I'm really glad you asked that question, because while it's true that Intelligence Manifesto originated with an idea for an X-Files script, the novel has--as I've already suggested-drifted far away from that original idea. I still genuinely admire the writing that Chris Carter and Frank Spotnitz did for The X-Files series, but Intelligence Manifesto is a novel, and as such it must operate under a somewhat different set of rules and expectations. It's quite possible that I never would have had the wherewithal actually to write this novel had I not discovered the works of Paul Auster. I was at a conference in San Antonio in 2004, trying to while away part of an afternoon in a bookstore, and I stumbled upon The Book of Illusions. I had heard of Auster before, largely because so much criticism has been written about The New York Trilogy, but I had not yet read any of his works. Further, I was so heavily wrapped up at the time in writing--and trying to find a publisher for--my scholarly book that I couldn't distinctly recall the last time I'd read a book for pleasure. I think I finished reading The Book of Illusions less than twenty four hours after I started it. Auster showed me it was possible to write a page-turner that also has distinctive literary merit; I suppose I already knew that, but I needed to be reminded. And he got me reading novels again. Many of those novels helped influence and shape Intelligence Manifesto. Worth special mention in that regard is Dennis Lehane's Shutter Island -- a truly ambitious exercise of narrative skill, in my estimation. Also worth mentioning are books set on college campuses, like Richard Russo's Straight Man and Joanne Dobson's Cold and Pure and Very Dead. Intelligence Manifesto owes a debt to all of those writers. Do you have a particular creative process that you follow? It depends on what I'm writing, but to me the most important thing with a big project like a novel--or a book of any kind, for that matter--is establishing a work schedule and holding yourself accountable to it. Once I committed to writing Intelligence Manifesto, I made sure that I wrote at least 1,250 words every weekday until the draft was done: no exceptions, no excuses. Toward the end, I was vastly exceeding that quota on most days, but I never allowed myself to miss the quota. Some writers believe in writer's block, some writers don't. Do you? If so, how do you work through it? I think writer's block is a very real phenomenon for those who experience it. I can't say I've ever really experienced a severe bout of writer's block, but I've definitely had parts of pieces I was working on--poems, stories, essays, whatever--that gave me huge trouble. And there have been lots of days where I've found it tough to get started, but once I got going things seemed OK. I think the way to work through writer's block, if you experience it, is to understand that some of what you write is going to be lousy. Knowing that you can always go back, you can always revise, is key to keeping things going on those days when the words just won't seem to come. What are your personal goals as a writer? I want to write things that both entertain people and make people think. And it looks like Intelligence Manifesto has at least the potential to do that. If the novel turns out to be successful, I would want to follow it up with a sequel, and maybe another novel or two after that. I think I'd also like to write another scholarly book about the ways in which college and university English departments can be re-tooled to meet the needs of a rapidly changing society. Have you ever been surprised by something you've written? More times that I could ever count. Probably that comes from having written so much poetry, where I learned over time that the results are better if you try to let something emerge as opposed to having a rock-solid intention and then trying to get language to conform to that intention. In Intelligence Manifesto, there were a couple of scenes that emerged as a was working my way through the plot-scenes that weren't part of the original plan but seemed to work out well after all. For example, there's a scene where David West is looking through Margaret Cruikshank's old apartment and finds a notebook stashed under a loose floorboard. That wasn't part of my original plan for the novel, but looking back now, it seems an essential and indispensable scene. And it first arrived by surprise. What has this experience taught you, thus far? It's taught me that all the time I spent in my younger life (not that I feel old now) laboring and struggling over my writing was ultimately worth it. It's taught me that being really, really good at something takes time and dedication. And it's taught me to have reasonable expectations about how many things in life one actually can be good at. It's taught me that a writer, ultimately, is what I am. Much as I might occasionally fantasize about being a scratch golfer, a chess grandmaster, or a rock drummer, I can't be any of those things unless I dedicate years of time and effort to them. And probably none of us have the available time end energy to devote to all the things we might like to be good at. And that's OK; we can still appreciate the accomplishments of those who excel in those areas, perhaps even more so if we've had a taste of how hard it is. What are three things you could not live without? As a writer, I'd find it hard to live without a storehouse of good ideas for future projects. Always having something to look forward to is very important to me. I also need people in my life who understand how important writing is to me, and who are willing to offer honest feedback about the work I'm doing. My wife is an avid reader and I know I can always trust her to give me a straightforward and honest evaluation. She read the first draft of Intelligence Manifesto, one chapter at a time, and her positive feedback was important to me because she is a brutally honest person and I knew--absolutely knew--that if my writing was bad, she would tell me. Every writer should have a reader like that. Finally, a good cup of tea is important from time to time. There's nothing quite like that first sip of a perfectly-brewed Darjeeling or oolong. What is the best advice you can give other writers? It's going to sound like a cliché, but I would say that the writing itself has to be your primary motivation. Once you've gotten a taste of how hard it is to write really well, and you've set high standards for yourself, the thing that matters most is that you're able to write something that you genuinely believe has met those standards. You'll need readers to help you confirm this, maybe, but in the end you'll know you've succeeded if you can say to yourself, "Yes, that's the book--or story, or poem, or whatever--that I really wanted to write." Publication and recognition are wonderful, but not the most important things. < Back |