I’ve always been a writer, for almost as long as I can
remember. For the longest time, I
thought I was the only one in my community.
I continued under that delusion until I reached high school. Freshman year. I had Mr. Sibley for English that year, and
one day he took me aside. He knew about
my abilities, because he’d read a good deal of my fiction back then, not just
for assignments. No, I was the weirdo
who liked to write extra stories and hand them in, just to see the response.
On this day, however, Mr. Sibley told me he wanted me to
meet another promising writer from another class of his. The idea was for me and this other guy to
switch stories and write a bunch of comments on them to help each other grow as
writers. I handed mine in, and soon after,
I received my copy of the story covered with red ink.
Unfortunately, Mr. Sibley must have lost his story. I never got it. But I did get something else: my closest friend for going on 22 years. Though I never got to read that story, Robert
M. Tannahill has been by my side longer than any other friend I have, and Mr.
Sibley is the mad scientist who matched us up.
Rob is starting to break through, so we decided to interview each other
for our blogs. What follows is my
interview with him. You can read his
interview with me here.
JB: All your life,
you’ve been drawn to the arts. Writing,
drawing, music. What pushes you in that
direction?
RT: I can’t do
anything else. Everything else I attempt
turns to shit. Plus, it’s the only work
I can do without feeling like punching someone.
I like to say I came out of the womb with a pen and a length of
nickel. But then, I was a month late
being born. I must have known something
was bullshit.
JB: What is the worst
thing you have ever done, and how has it informed your work?
RT: Hey, whoa, what
are you, a FED? Truth is, the worst
thing I’ve ever done is fail. It’s hard
to call my accomplishments successes. Oh
sure, I’ve won plenty of battles, but to what end? I’m still broke, I’m not on welfare, but I
still get assholes accusing me of leeching even though wherever I’m at I earn
my keep—money is great but it is not everything—there’s something to be said
for taking care of folks, dig?
Regardless, I keep trying to do kick ass things at the least and great
things at the most, but it seems like those who go off and try to be great just
trip, fall, and break their face. My
mother once told me I was her “great hope” and I have not lived up to that. I can take care of myself, but I’m nothing
great. Maybe I’ll end up that way, but
it is hard to say. I just try to get my
name out there, and when I do I tend to be met with such resistance that I’m
not sure if I’m a complete moron or if these fuckers are jealous. I fucked up music because it requires working
with people, and I’ll admit I don’t work well with others. I have a clear picture of how things should
fit together and I have a lot of trouble stepping back and letting others paint
their pictures, mostly because I end up finding their pictures not up to
par. I guess that makes me a prick. But at least I let them. Writing, I thought erroneously, was
different. All you need is you. Well, bullshit. You need more than yourself. Also, I have much trouble cow-towing. I guess that aids my failings. I just can’t stand having some jerk-off
telling me what to do when I already fucking know what to do. I punch people like that because they annoy
me. Perhaps they should not. So maybe the worst thing I’ve ever done is
the one thing I can’t escape—being me.
JB: Conversely, what
is the worst thing that has ever happened to you?
RT: Damn good
one. I’m not sure, but I am sure that
whatever it was, I did it to myself.
JB: How far would you
go for a story?
RT: I’ve gone about
as far as I can, I think. Any further,
and I’m going to bust through dimensions.
I guess that’ll be the rub. I’ve
looked into the abyss and it has looked into me. I think we made friends.
JB: On your blog, you
express a lot of hatred for phonies in the writing industry. What do you think their lives are like, and
why do they conduct themselves as such?
RT: Their lives are
either gorgeous or desperate, depending on how long they’ve been sucking
Satan’s dick. If they’ve yet to swallow
a load I’d say they’re pretty desperate; as I understand, Satan pays well for a
good hummer. I know they’re doing better
than those of us who don’t suck it, I can tell you that much.
JB: A lot of the way
you are can be traced back to your violent, insane father. Let’s say that in an alternate universe,
there is a Robert M. Tannahill whose father loved him and never abused
him. This Robert M. Tannahill also wants
to express himself through art. How does
he do it, and why?
RT: He’s probably
famous because he’d have been more commercial.
Gone to college, played the straight game, stayed out of jail, all that
shit. Or maybe not. Maybe he manages a fucking grocery store and
just doodles and pines and wishes someone would come along and fuck his world
up so he could pull a “Frank’s Wild Years.”
Hard to say. He doesn’t exist, at
least not here.
JB: What is your idea
of the perfect writing career? What kind
of work does that consist of?
RT: Perfection is not
achievable. I can tell you what I’ll
settle for. I don’t have any pretensions
of being the next Stephen King—I don’t think that’s possible. I’d like to be able to live a decent life
from writing—fuck punching a clock. I
can’t do that. I punch a clock and
sooner or later, I end up punching a face.
JB: What do you hope
to achieve with your work?
RT: Isn’t that the
same question? Other than the above
stated, I’d like to show writers that they do not have to compromise—writing is
about not compromising. Look at some of
the shit Warren Ellis writes. You think
he’s compromising? I don’t. Of course, Satan’s pecker awaits, ever-stiff.
JB: What are the top
five books you feel everyone should read before they die?
RT: Are you fucking
kidding me? There’s no top five. Once one has read the five, they’ll want to
read five more, but for the sake of it, we’ll say IT by Stephen King, AND THE
ASS SAW THE ANGEL by Nick
Cave
JB: You’ve had a few
run-ins with disreputable people in the writing industry lately. What words of wisdom do you have for any
writers starting out today?
RT: Decide what you
want more—money or integrity. Fast money
only comes cheap—never good. If you want
to write groundbreaking shit, don’t write with dollar signs in your eyes. Never tear up a royalty check, but don’t do
it for the cash. Otherwise, you’ll never
get any. Unless, of course, you’re
writing about kitty-puppies and babies and mommies and yuppies and
celebutards. And if you are, I want to
kick your ass. Oh yeah, and have
patience—the editor’s coke habit is always going to be more important than you.
