Confessions of my Past, Present and Future
by
Duncan Ralston
I was one of those fortunate kids whose parents read
bedtime stories to as a child. You know, the kids philosopher Adam Swift said
“unfairly disadvantage” children are ones whose parents didn’t read to them.
Yeah, I’m one of those fortunate jerks. And while I feel maybe those other
children got a raw deal, I certainly wouldn’t go back in time to tell my
parents they shouldn’t read to me because little Timmy’s father is
semi-literate and can’t read him bedtime stories, thereby depriving Timmy of a
lifelong love of reading and perhaps stunting his educational growth.
I don’t think that’s the sort of “level playing field”
(as Swift called for in his interview with ABC Radio) that any of us should be
considering. I think maybe involving kids in reading more is the answer. Maybe
promoting literacy and reading programs the way we used to before all everyone
cared about was their new cell phone or the Real
Housewives of Whothefuckcares is the key.
Then again, maybe I’m old fashioned.
The Past
In the past (before I learned about cynicism), I was a
young boy with a love of stories and illustrations. I still remember clearly my
mother, who was a teacher, reading aloud from a book I loved called Favourite Tales of Monsters and Trolls
by George Jonsen--really getting into it, doing all the voices. The Troll Voice
is one I remember most fondly, though it was pretty much just her regular voice
at a higher pitch and volume, crying out, "Farmer Neil! Farmer Neil! Let
us in!" The book was three stories, each based on classic folk tales: “The Farmer and The Cheese” (based on “The Brave Little Tailor”), “The Three Billy Goats Gruff,” and “The Trolls and the Pussycat.”
Each story was illustrated. These intricate paintings by
artist John O’Brien that remind me of some of Brueghel the Elder’s stuff
(probably also why Brueghel is my favorite painter), with hundreds of little
creatures hidden in the woodwork, in trees and crevasses.
Back then I was more into drawing than writing, being a
little young to think too deeply about things like structure and character, so
I often copied the style of these paintings. Once or twice I actually tried to
trace them, only to ruin the pages. Still, the stories themselves must have
gotten to me on a subconscious level, because it's a book I think back to often
as a trigger for my love of horror.
The
Garden of Bad Things by Doug McLeod was another favorite. A
collection of dark poetry set to creepy images by Peter Thomson: covering such
abominations as “The Human Fly from
Bendigo” the “Badfairy,” and “Zookeeper Zack.” And Shel Silverstein.
And Roald Dahl.
I remember distinctly reading Dahl’s The Twits sprawled out on my parents’ bed (I can’t remember at what
age), and thinking about what a great movie it would make without all those
annoying muggle-wumps. Of course most kids were probably in love with those
meddling monkeys; I just thought they cluttered up the real story, the fun
stuff: Mr. and Mrs. Twit’s increasingly insane rivalry and pranks.
Much later, probably about twelve or thirteen, I got into
Stephen King. We had two of his books among a larger collection which included
a huge section of Agatha Christie, Alfred Hitchcock crime collections, the
novels of Alien and Jaws and Dead & Buried, Richard Laymon’s bizarrely twisted The Cellar and assorted plays, along
with some authentic "literature."
The cover of Night
Shift, with its bandaged human hand sprouting multiple alien eyeballs,
caught my eye and I devoured it quickly. The second book was Danse Macabre, which didn't quite appeal
to me until a few years later, after reading Clive Barker's Books of Blood. I was about fifteen, and
had begun writing for fun, as opposed to just school assignments.
King’s book became an invaluable tool. King’s books
became an inspiration; I read every single one of his books, until the incredibly
boring Insomnia made me stop reading
him for ten years. But Night Shift
and Books of Blood specifically, and Favorite Tales of Monsters and Trolls,
sparked my love of reading and writing more than any others, which is why I'd
decided to launch my writing "career" with a short story collection
of my own.
The Present
Flash-forward to the present, and my unassuming (if you
could say this about a book that once had a bloodied chainsaw on the cover)
self-published horror collection, Gristle
& Bone, has been re-released by Forsaken, who have also just published
my first novel, Salvage. I'm
currently working on a second novel that I’m hoping to complete at least a
first draft of by the New Year, along with several short stories for
anthologies, and a novella based on a TV pitch. (I like to have a few things on
the go at once, in case I get bored.)
Meanwhile, I'm reading some really great stuff from
connections I've made in the horror genre, and have been introduced to a
wonderful concept called the "beta read." For those of you who don’t
know what this means, I’m sometimes lucky enough to read books well before they
come out, to offer (hopefully) helpful suggestions, and sometimes (when I’m
really lucky) provide cover "blurbs," as I’ve recently been honored
with on Kit Power’s first full-length novel, GodBomb!, and Ken Preston’s Joe
Coffin Season One. (Blatant name-dropping, I know. Shameless.)
It's a huge honor when a writer whose work I enjoy and
respect asks if I would read a new story fresh from their psyches, or the novel
they’ve been working on for who knows how long--let alone ask for my opinion on
it! It’s something I’d never even imagined I’d be a part of when I first
started writing on my dad’s Tandy laptop, copying those old King short stories
from memory.
Most of the stuff I'm reading these days is shorter:
novellas, novelettes, short stories and flash fiction (or
"drabbles"). I strongly believe horror works best in smaller doses,
and am often worried about where the genre is going in the traditional publishing
world. For instance, was it contractual obligations that made King's and
Barker's latest books such sprawling messes? Why must every book now be part
one of a series, even before interest in the initial concept has been proven?
Short stories seem to be the bastard stepchildren of the novel, and short story
collections must have a consistent “theme” to be considered worthy. Anthologies
are still being produced in record numbers, but readers for these books seem to
be in short supply.
That’s not to say I don’t love novels. Longer books offer
characters with greater depth, and character is my bag. It’s just that the
horror is often difficult to keep up over a longer work without coming off as
cheesy. There needs to be peaks and valleys, and during those valleys, with
slower character moments and long passages of dialogue, without that
ever-present sense of impending doom, the dread can lessen its hold on the
reader.
It’s not like TV or a movie, where something literally
jumps up to scare you. In a book, the fears come from the imagination. The
writer creates the creature’s bones; the reader gives it flesh. They can’t be
expected to keep a clear image of the terror in their minds while reading
paragraph after paragraph of Susie’s backstory.
The Future
Who knows what the future holds? After having just
declared book series the death of publishing, I do have one or two books of my
own in mind, as well as TV shows and feature films. But as William Meikle
mentioned in his addition to the Confessions of My Past, Present and Future
series (name-dropping again), I wish I hadn’t started really writing until my
mid-thirties. I’ve got so much catching up to do, not so much with the output
of other writers (although I am often astonished by the sheer volume of stuff
some people seem to be able to churn out; I suppose a lot of it has to do with
not having a day job), but with my own ideas. I’m always two or three books
ahead of myself, writing one while thinking about the next ones. I constantly
feel as if I’m running behind, putting pressure on myself to write more, more
more!
Likely that’s a good thing. Likely that’s how most people
who write feel. One thing I know for sure is I’ll never stop reading, nor
advocating it.
“Level playing field” be damned.
You can read my review of Gristle and Bone: 7 Delectable Tales of Terror here.
This collection of Duncan’s short stories has very
recently hit the #1 spot in the Kindle Store Horror Short Stories section on
Amazon UK!!
You can buy Gristle
and Bone: 7 Delectable Tales of Terror here:
Also keep your eye out for Duncan’s debut novel, Salvage which is out this week on 10th
November. My review of Salvage will
be published on the day.
You can buy Salvage
here:
If you would like to help support Confessions of a
Reviewer then please consider using the links below to buy any of the
books mentioned in this feature or indeed anything at all from
Amazon. This not only supports me but also lets me know how many people
actually like to buy books after reading my reviews.
Thanks.
Duncan Ralston was born in Toronto, and spent his teens in a small town. As a "grown-up," Duncan lives with his girlfriend and their dog in Toronto, where he writes about the things that frighten and disturb him. In addition to his twisted short stories found in GRISTLE & BONE, THE ANIMAL, and the charity anthology THE BLACK ROOM MANUSCRIPTS, his debut novel SALVAGE is available now.
"Mr. Ralston writes horror fiction that is unflinching and pulls no punches." - Kit Power.
"Duncan Ralston is writing honest stories about real people, pitched headlong into extraordinary situations. And that is what makes them so horrifying." - Ken Preston, Dirge Magazine
And for more about Duncan, visit his site or find him on social media:
No comments:
Post a Comment