Balls and Walnuts
more than you ever wanted to know
Interview: Tamara Siler Jones (part 2)
So you’ve ordered Valley of the Soul and you don’t know what to do until it arrives? Keep reading.
DH: I can’t seem to write anything too harsh (violent, terrifying, morbid) without it affecting my mood. How about you? Ever give yourself nightmares?
TSJ: Not once. I have lots and lots of nightmares anyway, always have, but nothing I write gives me bad dreams. In fact, writing horrific things seems to help alleviate them. I fret sometimes when I know a particularly nasty scene is coming – mostly worrying if I have the guts to write it – but after it’s finished, it’s finished.
DH: How extensively do you outline before setting pen to paper? On your blog, you’ve described your novels as domino patterns. How clearly do you see that domino pattern before you start the grunt work of writing one chapter after another?
TSJ: I don’t outline, at least not as I understand outlines. I tend to make some loose note on paper, usually cryptic things like “Lars’s mother – how bad?†or “Worms should be red. Species?†Seriously, just weird, disjointed things. But, all the while, they’re stirring and fermenting in the back of my head. As I start to write, I pick and choose whatever I need out of the stew at that time, or grab one of my research books (or Google) to check something. Story wise, I have a sorta-kinda-but-not-really idea of where things are going, along with a few select bits pretty much figured out. Like in Ghosts, when Nella got hit on the head while out in the snow. I saw that scene in my head pretty early on and wrote it, leaving it and other scenes like it floating at the end of my manuscript file as a goal to shoot for.
I think of it as being a lot like stage marks. Okay, I’m here, but I want to go there. I let the characters decide the path to take, then, once we’re there, I look ahead to the next stage mark. Some books, like Valley, had several stage marks early on, like the water creeping under the door, Lars and Jess at the faire, and the nature of the dismemberments. Other books, like Threads, have hardly any. Threads had one stage mark when I started the narrative, Otlee screaming from the basement. When I started the book I didn’t know how I’d get there, but I knew I would, sooner or later. I have a lot of faith in my characters and they seem to carry me along where an outline just messes me up. As weird as it sounds, it’s all very logical and methodical. A leads to B leads to C. Cause and effect. An action leads to an equal, and opposite, reaction.
That also reflects back to the domino patterns you’ve mentioned. It too is part of how my brain works. Everything in the book impacts upon everything else, it’s all inter-related, inter-connected, and must exist as a three dimensional whole. I try to remove all the extra bits, the things that get in the way of the connections, that get in the way of one domino (story point) impacting the next. Everything must make sense and must be important to the whole. As I get more experienced in writing novel length fiction, my books seem to get more complicated, but I think they resonate more, have more depth. When I knock over that first domino, show the first plot point, the cascade begins, sending ripples through Dubric’s past and Lars’s future, through the murders and the victims and the heroes’ families back home. It’s all tied together. Like in Valley, what Dubric’s dead wife did impacts upon his current love, on Lars’s future, on the murderer, on EVERYTHING. The same with Lars’s budding romance, Dien’s grief, Otlee’s problems… it’s all connected. If I do my job right it connects with the readers too, on a level that’s hopefully deeper than if I were to write a straight, linear story. I never really see or comprehend the whole pattern until it’s done, only the little bit in front of me, or the stage mark well ahead.
DH: At the very least, you must know whodunnit before you begin writing . . . right?
TSJ: No. Absolutely not. That ruins the writing for me. I much prefer to discover the story, and the culprit, along with the guys. I tried to figure it all out beforehand once, and I totally locked up, couldn’t write a word. I’m just weird, I guess.
DH: How is the sequel to Valley coming along?
TSJ: I think it’s coming along nicely. The Dubric project I’m working on now seems to want to be three books (I’m referring to the concept as “Fuck ‘em! Fuck ‘em all!â€) and the four or five people I’ve mentioned one particularly nasty aspect to seem, well, shocked that I would be so brutal. Several have stated I’m EVIL, and I consider them good friends! You’d think they’d know me better by now. 😉 Lol. The book is taking a different kind of research this time, which isn’t as much fun as the writing. The only real *problem* I see is that the first installment of this tale takes place about a year and a half after Valley, which is too far in the future. I will probably need to write an in-between book, part of which I have an idea for. I just have to get this installment out of my head, then write the other, hope Bantam likes both, then start moving forward again.
DH: I wonder if your agent is in the camp of folks who think you’re evil.
TSJ: No, I don’t think so. He’s always been very happy and supportive about my work, very encouraging, and I can’t think of a time where he’s asked me to rein in the nastiness. He always tells me to go for it. My editor, on the other hand, told me several times during Threads that I’d pushed the envelope too far. I think my agent is fearless. He’s the best!
Thanks, Tam!
D.
nothing I write gives me bad dreams. In fact, writing horrific things seems to help alleviate them.
I’ve often wondered about this. Do people enjoy serial killer books / forensic stories because, in some way, it gives them a feeling of control over fearful things? I wonder if anyone has ever studied it. If they have, I couldn’t find anything on Google. Although I didn’t spend hours in the search, either.
I didn’t mean you the PERSON was EVIL, Tam. I was referring to you the WRITER and the plotlines.