 |
| Author William Diehl |
******
kc: I get the impression that when you sit down to write there's quite a war going on in your head.
kc: In this book, you examine an assassination squad -- a secret terrorist organization that trains at "The Farm" -- What is that?
wd: I knew that "The Farm" existed. I've known about it for several years and I met the man who runs it. He's a guy named Mitch Warbell. One night, we started talking about the place and he told me that while a lot of mercenaries go through the training course, many of these people are bankers and folks going to countries where terrorism is prevalent. They take the course as a self-protective device. That's what triggered the idea. Then I went out and took the course. Over a period of six months, I spent time talking to the instructors. Their stories gave me the basis for the book.
kc: When you were describing a moment ago those latent aggressions and the violence, how does it manifest itself when you are writing a book like Chameleon?
kc: At the heart of this violent story is a particular code of honour. Where does this come from?
wd: Chameleon is a story about honorable people versus dishonorable people. And I've put at the heart of it the Oriental philosophy of honor. My belief is that the Oriental philosophy of honour is a very positive and uncompromising belief. Whereas in my country, you have to struggle just to be a little bit honest. That's why in my novel Sharky's Machine you have four cops who are basically losers who become winners in the end because they couldn't be corrupted. That's also the story of Chameleon where you have two or three people who are honourable. I'm dealing with knights on white horses slaying dragons. And I still believe that's possible.
kc: Does the writing of action fiction though become a safety valve for your own violent fantasies?
wd: It's indeed a great release. What it is, is playing out your fantasies on paper. For instance, in Chameleon, I developed my own brand of martial arts. What I did was draw stick figures where I could try out the moves -- sometimes in front of a video camera -- and describe them. I really got into it. Then I also got into the method of trying to remember things without taking notes which is what these people in the book could do. I never took it as far as them but I found that if I went into a restaurant and found it fascinating enough to use in a book, I can remember every little detail of it. Then I file it away in my word processor. Often I tell people that I'm a method writer because I actually act things out in the room because you deal with your psyche on paper.
kc: How do you act these things out?
kc: I'd like to take that a step further. If you resolve certain conflicts within yourself, does it also mean that your writing will change?
wd: Absolutely. My writing changed radically from Sharky's Machine to Chameleon. And a lot of it is in the emotional content of the book. I think Chameleon is a better book than Sharky even though it feels colder. Maybe that's because of what some of the characters do in the story.
kc: Has living on the beach provided the sanctuary needed?
kc: I guess the biggest distinction some would have to make meeting you -- or knowing you -- is to separate the man from the writer?
wd: Probably most writers become very involuted and difficult to deal with when they're working. And I feel that I'm difficult to deal with because I vague-out. I can hold a conversation without even knowing what I'm saying. I'm so used to doing it. When I'm through, I wake up one morning and the book is finished and I have nothing to do. It's a bit of a downer because I've been living with it for so long. Then I go and do crazy things like scuba diving for weeks at a time. It's a schizophrenic way to make a living, but I wouldn't have it any other way. I love the isolation. Nobody can invade it. What other occupation is there where you can be totally isolated and deal with yourself in whatever terms you want to deal with yourself in?
Talking Out of Turn #13: William Diehl (1982)
-- Kevin Courrier is a writer/broadcaster, film critic, teacher and author. His forthcoming book is Reflections in the Hall of Mirrors: American Movies and the Politics of Idealism. Courrier continues his lecture series on Film Noir (Roads to Perdition) at the Revue Cinema in Toronto in March. He's also facilitating a film series called Reel Politics at Ryerson University continuing February 27th.
Russell Andrews: First, my friend and mentor, the writer William Goldman, called me up to tell me about an obituary that appeared in the New York Times. It turned out that everything in the obit was untrue—and the Times later printed a retraction. Next, as a book editor, I had worked with President Jimmy Carter, who wrote a book for me about aging. He talked a lot about the huge problems that would arise because people kept living longer, like Social Security running out. Third, I became interested in the billions of dollars that were being made by drug companies with products geared for staying young, everything from Viagra to hair restoration. I began to concoct a conspiracy between huge drug companies and the U.S. government—and eventually tied that in to what I'd learned from President Carter and the strange Times obituary.
We had a local band that played every
night at the YMCA. The last night before we all went
off to the war, right in the middle of "One O'Clock
Jump," the whole bridge fell off the bass he was playing.
We left it in the corner there, kind of as a tribute.
It may still be there. I hope so.