I had to chase A.A. Garrison with a band of rabid armadillos to herd him into the tank. Once inside, he was gracious enough to answer a few questions without too much prompting from the nightmares I keep in the corners.
Why writing? What drew you to it? Why do you continue?
I can answer that in one lump sum: because there was/is no other option. I will keep writing, or I will die (or sit around with nothing to do for long stretches of time, at least).
What’s the most challenging thing you’ve done (in life or in writing (your choice))?
The most challenging writing I’ve done is good, true bizarro, because it forces one to shift to illogical thought, which can be the easiest or the hardest thing in the world, depending on the status of your brain chemistry and how rooted you are in consensus reality.
What’s one word or phrase that drives you nuts? Why?
Affect/effect, because editors reserve a certain blunt weapon for those who fail at distinguishing between the two.
Do you have a favorite character you’ve created? If so, who is it and why?
Honestly, I can’t say I have a favorite. (I’ll burn my lame-answer voucher on that one.)
Creepiest place you’ve ever been? Has it appeared in your fiction? Why or Why not?
The creepiest place I’ve ever been is inside a filled dumpster, as a seven-year-old, at the request of my father. Why? Because, at the time, it was not at all creepy, which says much about perception and awareness (perhaps we’re all at the bottom of a disease-ridden dumpster, but just unaware?). It has not appeared in my fiction yet, because I just unearthed this memory a few minutes ago.
What’s the best rejection you’ve ever received?
One that came after the story was accepted, telling me the acceptance was in error. Oddly, when I’d received the acceptance, I’d had the thought that that was exactly what had happened, that it was a mistake, so the belated rejection wasn’t at all a shock.
How did you get that scar?
This one here, on my left elbow? From learning to ride a scooter as an unsupervised child. I picked gravel out of it for days.
What song would precede your entrance into a room if we all had personal soundtracks?
That “song” that was nothing but silence, recorded by that one guy some years ago, as a protest against copyright or something, I can’t remember. Anyway, I find music distracting, and life is dangerous.
(RS – While I couldn’t find the song mentioned, I did find an acceptable substitute.)
Promote yourself and/or your writing
I’ve written a book called The End of Jack Cruz, about a weird, drug-dependant apocalypse, and I think you might like to read it. You can buy it from Amazon, and other quality vendors. You can also follow me on Twitter or like me on Facebook or visit my blog.
If you were freezing to death and the only thing left to burn were the books in your library, what 5 books would you burn last? (And yes, everything else burnable has been burnt.)
My five contributor’s copies of The End of Jack Cruz, because the book is so damn good, the fire would refuse it harm.
Any final thoughts before you run screaming for your life?
I can’t think of anything. (Second lame-answer voucher burned.)
As always, Mr. Garrison, it’s been a pleasure trapping you…er…having you as a guest. Please feel free to choose any door for your escape…um…exit. Oops….except for that one….or that one….and whatever you do, NOT THAT ONE!