What does writing mean? Everything, says the protagonist of Kimon Neophyte’s novel, Tolstoy’s Passion (Houdini Publishers), published to coincide with the centenary of Tolstoy’s death on November 20
Describe yourself in a sentence
Someone struggling to be himself — because of the mounting pressure to conform.
Describe your ideal reader
An individual, a person who doesn’t quite fit the mould. A person somewhat jaded by modern routinised life, someone who is looking for more freedom to be themselves. I think such a person would be more receptive to my books. Most of my characters are looking for a more authentic mode of living, one that accords with their deeper feelings.
What was the originating idea for the book?
Tolstoy’s Passion did not originate with an idea. I don’t start with ideas. It’s more an emotional swell that gets me working on a novel — a feeling. The dying of Tolstoy kept on recurring to me – I had heard the story years ago — and I was going through a crisis in writing: Should I stop writing or continue? Was it all worthwhile? A soul-searching time.
I was taken back to the original impulse to write — the dramatic story of Tolstoy dying in a remote station in the depths of Russia, Astapovo. Like Buddha, Tolstoy fled a life of luxury to live in simplicity. He died in a humble place, thinking he had at last found anonymity. I think I was struck by the fact that this great figure should place more importance on simplicity and humility than on wealth and fame. And that, I think, convinced me to take up his cross, namely the task of writing — it does demand big sacrifices: status, money, time, etcetera. I think the Astapovo story was saying to me: ‘Writing is worth more than all the money in the world.” That was what I felt — a sort of reverence for writing. And in Tolstoy’s Passion I have tried to express and unpack that feeling.
Describe the process of writing the work. How long did it take?
Often I get stuck soon after I’ve started. But I’ve learned by now that this is not the cul-de-sac it seems to be. It’s simply telling me to go back to the beginning and pull out another thread. The beginning, I find, is like a bundle of vague and concealed feelings. You’ve got to go back to that starting point and try to clarify and extend what is there. I don’t know how many times I begin again. So there’s a lot of back-tracking in the way I work. Often I find I’ve turned a corner too soon, or turned in the wrong direction, or omitted something, or said something too early. It depends on the nature of the book — if it works on plot, then you have to be very careful. Tolstoy’s Passion took me about a year to write, on and off. At times it’s necessary to stand back, like a painter, and simply muse over your work.
Name some writers who have inspired you and tell us briefly why or how
Tolstoy, of course. DH Lawrence is another. Hermann Hesse as well, and of the more contemporary writers, I like some of Michael Ondaatje, and Elizabeth Gilbert slightly. I like a vivid style — writing that strikes the senses, writing I can see, hear and feel. I reject cold, abstract writing. And I love a quest for meaning or purpose.
Do you write by hand or use a typewriter or computer?
I usually start by hand and end up on a computer. Writing by hand facilitates flow, but the computer helps tighten up the writing and makes it more precise.
What is the purpose of fiction?
To reveal the truth <-- the truth of a situation, relationship or feeling. What is it we feel? Often it is hard to say. Feelings can be vague and confused, but by projecting them on to an imagined or fictitious scene they can become clearer.
Is there anything you wish to add?
There is one more thing I would like to say: the writing of fiction is not only a matter of transcribing thoughts and feelings into words, or a matter of clarifying these. It is also a matter of carving new pathways into the future. Thoughts and feelings are not static, but flow just like water. So they create new patterns of behaviour and new outlooks. In this sense fiction can serve a very practical purpose, both for the writer and the reader.