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Captain
Morgan and his Cyberpunk Organ
Richard Morgan has just written the first great cyberpunk novel
of the 21st century, Altered Carbon.
The
noir gloom-soaked streets of the Altered Carbon universe are so
dark, you need a chainsword to slice through the atmosphere.
Stephen Hunt slips into the inquisitor's chair and finds out
why this new author is going to be stunningly, nay amazingly, big.
SH.
Do you write full time yet, or are you still fitting in the day-job?
RM.
At this stage, full time writing isn’t really an option, but
even if it were I’m not sure I’d be able to quit entirely. I’ve
been a teacher/trainer for nearly a decade and a half and the post
I have now is the best I’ve ever worked in.
Hard to give something like that up, and anyway I’m not convinced
ivory towers are all that good for writers, personally or professionally.
In an ideal world, I’d probably teach part time (with some extremely
long holidays!)
SH.
When and why did you begin writing?
RM.
I think originally I had the same motivation as Asimov – I wrote
because I liked reading and I wanted to create my own stories for
my own consumption. That’s something that stretches back to childhood.
I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t scribbling away at something.
In my late teens I started writing a lengthy fantasy epic which
owed a lot to Tolkein, meandered along for years and never approached
anything resembling a conclusion. At university I dumped the whole
thing in favour of harder edged SF short fiction, though none of
it ever attained the polish necessary for successful publication.
I date myself as a serious writer from the year I graduated (‘
87), when I produced an extremely bloody, drug soaked futuristic
cop-bastard-sees-the-error-of-his-ways novel, which, perhaps fortunately,
never saw the light of publication either.
SH.
How does working in a university compare with being an author?
RM.
Writing, for all the massive head rush and other benefits, is
a lonely business. Most of the time it’s just you and the Mac. The
university environment provides a level of social and professional
interaction that I would otherwise be hard put to come by.
And, for an EFL teacher, lecturing in a university gives you access
to facilities and a level of professional support that are unheard
of in the commercial sector. Of course, in the end, a job is still
a job, no matter how good it is, whereas writing is (at least for
me) a lifetime dream come true. On that level, there IS no comparison.
SH.
How has becoming a published science fiction author impacted your
lifestyle?
RM.
So far, not that much. I’ve been able to take a couple of slightly
more expensive holidays in central America than would otherwise
have been possible, and publication has made the process of buying
a flat pretty painless.
But I’d say these have been shifts of emphasis rather than lifestyle
changes. If Altered Carbon hadn’t been picked up, I’d still have
bought a flat, and I’d still have gone to central America. It just
would have been harder to pay for, and consequently a bit more stressful.
SH.
How do you see the future of science fiction literature in the 21st
century?
RM.
Bright, very bright. I think there’s always been a lot snobbery
in the literary establishment regarding the merit of the SF genre,
but that’s breaking down now. It has to. As the rate of technological
development speeds up, the gap between science fiction and what
we’re living now is getting narrower all the time.
Look at cloning – how long have we got before all those imagined
nightmare clone scenarios are living breathing reality? This closing
of the gap is going to force (probably is already forcing) a re-assessment.
Established and respected non-genre writers like Paul Theroux,
Margaret Atwood and Fay Weldon have already produced books that
HAVE to be classified as SF, even if the critics don’t like it.
Meanwhile, leading SF writers like William Gibson are now no longer
published purely as SF – Gibson’s last two novels came out in Penguin
fiction, the SF label quietly removed. (That galls me a bit, to
be honest – after all, we found him first, didn’t we! But you have
to rise above it and see the benefits).
And perhaps most importantly of all, you’ve got writers like Iain
Banks who straddle the genre gap on a completely comfortable day
to day basis. So basically, we’ve got the critical establishment
in a half nelson.
No doubt about it, it’s a good time to be writing SF.
SH.
Do you tend to read the work of many other SF/F authors?
RM.
Yes, I’m a voracious reader, in and out of genre, and SF/F is
the only type of fiction I’ve come across that consistently stretches
my perceptions of the universe, which I like. Favourites in the
genre are Iain M Banks, William Gibson and M John Harrison – I’ve
read practically everything they’ve written.
SH.
What's your favourite SF/F movies and TV?
RM.
I have to confess I watch almost no TV of any sort, but I am
a fanatical movie fan. As far SF movies are concerned, There Can
Be Only One. Bladerunner - the movie that fundamentally redefined
our relationship with and perception of the future.
Aside from that of course, it also had superb characterisation,
gripping narrative and stunning set pieces. It was a film that changed
me at an emotional and an intellectual level when I saw for the
first time. Better yet, I saw it again about a year ago and it hasn’t
aged a day!
There aren’t many others to stack up against that standard, but
my next favourite is probably Strange Days, which offered
a similar simultaneous kick to the adrenal glands and frontal lobes,
as well as some superbly flawed characters. The Matrix was
also great, of course, though a little two dimensional and derivative.
Then again, with those FX and set pieces, hard to get too upset
about minor failings like that.
Fantasy movies are another matter. Until about a month ago, I would
have been willing to say that no-one had made a really good one.
Then I saw Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings; the Fellowship
and, well, game over. Jackson has done for Fantasy what Ridley Scott
did for SF with Alien and Bladerunner – he’s upped
the ante for the whole genre. Fantastic movie – let’s hope it’s
the start of a trend.
SH.
Do you use the services of an agent?
RM.
Yes. Carolyn Whitaker at London Independent Books.
SH.
How long did you spend in rejection letter hell before you were
first published?
RM.
Longer than I like to think about now. Once I had an agent,
it was very easy. Before that, a nightmare. I spent the best part
of two years hawking Altered Carbon around UK and US publishers
(and agents) before Carolyn picked me up.
After that, everything went like a dream. From LIB accepting me
to getting my contract with Orion was less than six months. The
moral of the tale is GET AN AGENT! Kill if you have to, but get
one.
SH.
Did you always want to be a writer?
RM.
Yep.
SH.
Where, when, and how do you write?
RM.
Given a word processor, wherever, whenever and for however long
I can. I’m quite anti-social, which helps. Basically, while I was
writing Altered Carbon I came home from work every day, ate with
and grunted at my girlfriend for about an hour and then sat at my
desk in the bedroom and wrote until I had to go to bed. Weekends
too. You gotta suffer for your art (and so does your partner, unfortunately).
SH.
What are you reading now?
RM.
I’m currently re-reading The Two Towers – I can’t wait as long
as December.
SH.
Is this the first book/story you ever wrote, or are there a few
earlier unpublished works hanging around?
RM.
There’s that bloody, drug soaked futuristic cop-bastard-sees-the-error-of-his-ways
novel, which I wrote just after graduation. It was called Ethics
on the Precipice – maybe I’ll go back one day and revise it,
but it certainly shouldn’t see print in its current state.
Then, back in the mid-nineties I wrote an SF screenplay called
Market Forces which never came to anything because (producer
quote) "the central character was too morally ambivalent for Van
Damme or Stallone to pick up". There are also a few short pieces
featuring Takeshi Kovacs pre-Altered Carbon, and some short fantasy/horror
that I wrote more for my own personal edification than anything
else.
SH.
Did you come up through the writing short-stories route, or did
you get published in novel-form first?
RM.
No, my short stories were all rejected by the magazines I sent
them to. Altered Carbon is the first piece of fiction I’ve had published.
SH.
If Altered Carbon was going to be made into a film, who would be
your dream producers/actors for the role?
RM.
I suppose James Cameron or Ridley Scott would be obvious directorial
choices. They both know their technology, whatever era it belongs
to, they’re both comfortable with FX, and they both know how to
put an audience through the emotional wringer.
Another, less obvious choice would be Michael Mann – he doesn’t
do sci-fi as far as I’m aware, but anyone who can turn in Last
of the Mohicans and Heat with the same power and grace
ought to be able to sustain the jump forward another few hundred
years.
Casting Kovacs? Well, he’s one man wrapped up in another man’s
flesh, so you’re looking at some substantial acting talent here.
He’s also, in Ryker’s flesh, older than your average action hero.
In an ideal world, De Niro. Failing that Willem Dafoe, Harvey Keitel
or Tom Sizemore – they could all carry the stature, and the damage.
Ortega would be a tough one because your studio’s natural inclination
is going to be to bring in some standard Hispanic beauty like Jennifer
Lopez or Penelope Cruz. Ortega isn’t beautiful, she’s hammered hard
handsome. There’s a little known Spanish actress called Ana Fernandez
who’d be perfect for it, but out of the Hollywood crowd I’d say
only Linda Fiorentino or Famke Janssen have the right profile.
Maybe at a pinch Madeleine Stowe for her sheer acting power, though
I have this perverse desire to cast her as one of the female villains
– sort of like Sergio Leone casting Henry Fonda as the bad guy in
Once Upon a Time in the West. Shock, horror!
SH.
Do you ever attend SF-cons, and what has your experience with them
been?
RM.
Never been. I’m going to Eastercon this year – looking forward
to it.
SH.
Would you ever consider writing in a different genre, or are you
content with SF/F?
RM.
I tend not to think in terms of genre WHILE I’m writing. I just
have this story to tell, and so far all the stories I’ve wanted
to tell have come out of the wash as Science Fiction or Fantasy/Horror.
That’s fine by me – SF was always my first love in literary terms.
There’s a sense of freedom and imagination to it that’s hard to
imagine attaining in other genres. On the other hand, who knows?
I quite like the idea of writing a contemporary crime novel at some
point, but that depends on having a suitable story to tell.
SH.
What are your hobbies?
RM.
Travel, any kind of travel, the more exotic the better, is probably
my biggest passion outside of writing, though working for a living
tends to put limits on how much travelling you can do at any one
time.
To let off some of the ensuing steam, I’ve got this big mud spattered
mountain bike that I like to get even muddier whenever the opportunity
presents itself. I’m also just getting into indoor climbing (the
outdoor variety, in Scotland, is far too wet and cold for any but
real dyed in the wool fans). It’s a sport that absorbs you totally,
mind and body, which is a rare pleasure.
I used to do an obscure type of karate called Kyoshindo that had
the same effect, but it’s hard to find clubs that practise that
particular style, and I’ve had some unfortunate experiences with
other types. There’s a lot of macho rubbish tied up with the image
of martial arts, and finding a dojo with an atmosphere that you
really like can be quite hard.
On the physically idle side, I’m a voracious reader
and a fanatically enthusiastic movie fan. I’m also taking some tentative
steps into gaming – nothing too advanced so far, PS One and a handful
of basic male violence games, but it’s dangerously addictive stuff…
To try and redeem myself from all this self-indulgence I’m also
trying to upgrade my Spanish, which has decayed badly since I left
Madrid three years ago.
SH.
What advice would you give to budding SF writers?
RM.
I’d recommend trying to write primarily about people and events
rather than scientific ideas. Good characters and narrative will
carry ideas whether they are stunning and original or well worn
and derivative. But even the brightest idea won’t carry a dull story
and wooden characters – the readers will get bored once the novelty
of the idea wears off and they’ll stop reading.
And of course, the hoary old writer’s chestnut – stick with it!
It can take years or even decades to get published, but if you’re
writing anything reasonable numbers of people will want to read,
you will get picked up one day.
And besides, if the passion to write is in you, what else are you
going to do with your free time that will even vaguely satisfy that
passion? Don’t give up!
SH.
Are you from the 'writing tightly against a full outline school'
or the 'make it up as you go along' school?
RM.
The second of these, definitely. Obviously you start with an
idea, and you have to have some idea where you’re going with it,
but the only true white heat of creativity I’ve ever felt has been
while I’m actually typing.
Storylines start spontaneously extending themselves both back and
forward in time, characters begin to speak and act for themselves,
stuff you never even dreamed of comes bubbling up through the cracks.
When you’re really on track, you can feel the rightness of the
new stuff – it fits into what you’ve already written because, well,
given X, Y just makes sense, doesn’t it. Of course you have to go
back and cull this stuff from time to time, to make sure it does
all fit, so the actual writing is a longer process than it probably
would be if I could think it all out beforehand Agatha Christie
style.
On the other hand, I don’t have the control to just hold off and
think it all through perfectly. It’s like sex – ten minutes into
thinking about it, my hands are itching for the keyboard and I just
have to get some of this stuff down.
SH.
Do you consider yourself and your work quintessentially Scottish?
RM.
No. For one thing, I’m not. I can lay a vague claim to Scottish
blood through my mother’s family about three generations back, but
I’m not from here. And unless you’re writing specifically about
Scotland or the Scots, I don’t see how there can be a Scottish flavour
to a novel. The first time I read Iain M Banks, I’d no idea where
he was from. This stuff is international.
SH.
How much do you base your characters against people you actually
know?
RM.
Not much. My social circle is short on psychologically damaged
assassins and power hungry corporate vampires (not that I’m complaining
about the fact). Some political figures, seen from afar, have provided
a certain amount of input on the bad guys and the occasional phrase
gets lifted from the conversation of friends if it seems to fit.
The rest is pure sick imagination.
SH.
When it comes to your drafts, how much do you tend to re-write?
RM.
A lot. Creating on the run tends to leave a messy trail, and
you have to go back and tidy up extensively. Like Ray Bradbury said
– throw up into your typewriter in the mornings and in the evenings
go clean it up. Or was that the other way around? Certainly would
be for me with the hours I keep.
SH.
What other books do you have planned?
RM.
I’m currently mid-way through a sequel to Altered Carbon which
sees Takeshi Kovacs pitched into the middle of a planetary war and
an inconvenient archaeological treasure hunt.
We finally get to see first hand how he behaves in a military context,
as well as finding out a bit more about the civilisation the Martians
left behind for us.
After that, I want to set a third novel back on Harlan’s World
where we’ll get to see some of the cultural and personal influences
that have made Kovacs what he is.
SH.
How would you summarise Altered Carbon for readers who haven't experienced
the novel?
RM.
In a single sentence, it’s a high-impact ultra-violent tragedy
about the nature of power and how future technology will affect
it. You’d like a little more detail? Takeshi Kovacs is a convicted
criminal and an ex-Envoy, an enforcer for the UN Protectorate, which
spans about three dozen colonised worlds as well as the earth, and
isn’t what you’d call a liberal political structure.
He gets bailed out of prison on a colony world (really storage
– his mind has been stored as coded digital data and his body sold
off to the highest bidder) and into a new body on earth. The reason
for this stroke of luck is that a guy called Bancroft, one of a
hyper-rich elite Earth overclass, has been murdered and wants to
know by whom.
For the super-rich, death isn’t much of a problem in these times
because they all have stored copies of their personality that can
be decanted into cloned copies of their body on demand. The problem
isn’t that Bancroft’s dead – it’s that he can’t remember any of
the events leading up to this death, and he wants Kovacs to fill
in the blanks.
Which proves an unpopular pastime in the eyes of a whole host of
shadowy characters and interests within the Earth underworld. Luckily
Kovacs is a pretty tough character himself, and so widespread mayhem
ensues…Read on!
SH.
What kind of manuscript changes had to be made to Altered Carbon?
RM.
Very few, mainly because I’d clawed the thing apart and re-written
it the year before it finally got picked up. My editors just pointed
out some ugly facial hair I hadn’t noticed and a few technological
matters that needed tighter clarification. That kind of critique
is invaluable – you can never see these things yourself because
you’re standing too close.
SH.
Of the feedback you have heard people say about Altered Carbon,
what are your favorites?
RM.
Probably David Langford’s warning on the Amazon site: not
for the faint hearted! I got a real kick out of that. Ken Macleod
was also very kind – he said the backstory left him wanting a sequel
like another fix, which I think means I did my creative continuity
job properly.
And John Berlyne from SFREVU told me the book had left him thinking
quite deeply and extensively about the implications of sleeving,
sort of worrying at it in his mind. I was made up about that. I
think I write primarily to arouse feelings in my readers, but if
I can get them to think as well, that’s a huge bonus.
SH.
What research did you do for Altered Carbon?
RM.
Research? Uh, not a lot, really. I tend to read a lot, and that
can be anything from Quantum mechanics to Spanish political history,
but it’s incidental, or at least tangential, to my writing. I don’t
often go looking for specifics – I tend to create out of thin air
and then fling in handfuls of whatever I have to hand.
SH.
Is the term cyberpunk just a label or is this a "genre?"
RM.
I think it WAS a genre, or at least a sub-genre back in the
late seventies/early eighties when it first broke cover. But that
was because it really was radically different from what other SF
there was around at the time.
Now, I think the elements of cyberpunk have dissolved into the
whole SF genre, so it’s hard to find anyone writing who doesn’t
owe serious debts to Gibson and his crew. So yeah, it’s become a
label, over time. I wouldn’t label Altered Carbon cyberpunk (although
others have), but one thing is certain. Without the cyberpunk writers,
I would never have been inspired to write it.
SH. As an English lecturer,
do you find the hard science parts of Altered Carbon easy to write,
or were you scouring copies of Nature and New Scientist for cutting
edge developments you could weave into the book?
RM.
I think it’s important to realise that from the point of view
of Kovacs and my other characters, there’s very little science in
Altered Carbon that IS cutting edge. Most of it is the currency
of everyday life for them. They don’t necessarily know exactly how
it works, but they don’t need to.
I don’t know exactly how my CD player works, but it doesn’t stop
me using it. What WAS hard work was taking ideas centuries away
in technological terms and making them seem commonplace. Having
a background in popular science helps here, but only in an editorial
sense.
You have to apply some kind of basic censorship to your ideas,
in order to make them ring true. But the ideas themselves didn’t
require research – I just made them up.
SH.
How long did it take to write the novel?
RM.
Hard to estimate because it was an off and on thing in the early
stages, and then with the re-write…. I started in early 94 and finished
the final draft in late 98. So three and a half years real time,
of which, say about two years was actual writing time.
SH.
What gave you the original idea?
RM.
I got into this huge and not entirely sober argument with a
Buddhist one night about the injustice of a system of reincarnation
where you end up with a karmic debt (or credit) for a previous life
you can’t remember and therefore, as far as the current you is concerned,
a life you haven’t lived. That got me thinking about where the exact
parameters of self are, and how technology is inevitably going to
re-set them.
SH.
Any more works in the Altered Carbon universe planned?
RM.
I’d like to tell a story from the point of view of Ryker, the
cop whose body Kovacs is using. He gets a bit of a raw deal in Altered
Carbon – we only ever hear about him from characters who disapprove
of him. Be nice to let him speak for himself, and maybe get another
look at the workings of the Bay City police department. And then
there’s Trepp, who I’ve got a REAL soft spot for. Ah well, we’ll
see…..
SH.
Do you have any recommended reading for fans of Altered Carbon?
RM.
Haruki Murakami’s Hard Boiled Wonderland and The End of the
World – best novel I’ve ever read. It’s half science fiction,
half fantasy and the critical establishment would sooner curl up
and die than let it go by either label.
Aside from that, M John Harrison’s Centauri Device, for
the most beautiful piece of SF writing I’ve ever come across, and
for any crime fiction addicts who might wander in at this point
Laurence Block’s When the Sacred Ginmill Closes – nothing
better in the cri/fi genre.
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