Interview: Writer Donald Ray Pollock
"Because the threat of violence was always nearby, I paid a lot of attention to it."
Matty Byloos conducted this interview over email with author Donald Ray Pollock, who lives, writes and works in Chillicothe, OH.
In my own work, I’ve found some strange desire to use art, in all its diverse forms, as a vehicle through which the ugly, profane, grotesque, and the darker aspects of the human experience, might be elevated. When I read both of Donald Ray Pollock’s books, and I read them fast because they were wonderful, I knew I was reading the words of someone whose work had allowed them to take a similar journey. And I had questions. Here they are. — MB
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Nailed Magazine: Coming into writing with a background in painting, I find that a lot of the questions asked around an art making practice seem to pertain to writing as well. I’m thinking specifically here of form and content issues, and how a really fine painting might achieve a high level of quality with each. The first thing that jumped out at me with The Devil All the Time was just that — it’s a highly structured novel that deals with several characters who the reader gets to engage with at various places in their lives. A lot of smaller tales are woven together, but never at the expense of any single character or bit of the narrative. I’d love to hear you talk about your strategy with writing this novel — how much was outlined beforehand, if you worked through individual story arcs separately, or if the novel unfolded in some other, less deliberate way.
Donald Ray Pollock: As for writing The Devil All the Time, I didn’t employ much strategy, though I probably should have. In the beginning (Knockemstiff had just been released and I was still in grad school at OSU), I thought I was going to write about a man recently released from prison who meets up with Carl and Sandy, the two serial killers, and begins a murder spree of his own. Then I gave up on the ex-con and decided the book would just be about Carl and Sandy and their crimes. However, I realized after a while that focusing entirely on them would prove way too dark for most readers, so I began thinking about Arvin Russell, the young boy who eventually becomes the main character in the book. It took maybe 18 months or so to figure this all out, and I think the reason it took so long is because I’d never written anything larger than a 14 page short story before, and I was intimidated by the idea of writing something as big as a novel. After that, the main problem was how to present the different story lines in a way that wouldn’t confuse the reader. As for using an outline, no, I didn’t, though I did spend a lot of time sitting on the porch working the story out in my head. So it was a messy process, but I think I learned a lot from my mistakes. I’m hoping the next book won’t take nearly as long to complete.
Nailed: So it sounds like from your answer that certain characters either held your favor to different degrees at different times, or else newer characters, like Arvin, presented themselves as key to pushing the novel’s progress forward — either way, a very organic way of working. What was it about the serial killer storyline or characters that attracted you in the first place? Was it difficult to block out the clutter of contemporary writing and film on the same kind of subject matter? Was the goal to try to do something different with that, or did you just say, hell with it, I’m writing about what interests me.
Pollock: Actually, I can’t explain why I began writing about the serial killers. There is just something weirdly fascinating about them. I’ve said this several times, but if you have two newspaper articles on the front page, one about a serial killer and one about a kid who donates his piggy bank to the local homeless shelter or whatever, the majority of people are going to read the serial killer story first. As for trying to block out contemporary writing and film about serial murderers, I just didn’t read or watch any of that stuff while I was working on the book (I had read some non-fiction stuff about serial killers before I started — for example, Tim Cahill’s book about John Wayne Gacy, Buried Dreams). With that said, I believe that I’m influenced by everything I come in contact with, so there’s really no way that other books and films don’t rub off to a degree.
Nailed: There’s a strong undercurrent of violence in the short stories, more often subtle there as compared to the overt use of violence, which almost becomes its own character at times in the novel. I wonder how you conceive of the use of violence, specifically as it’s tied to children in your work?
I’m thinking that possibilities here include: violence with children makes it even darker; possible politics around explaining violence as something inherent to the human condition; some way of showing how adults who are violent start out in a specific context that helps to create that individual later in life, etc.
Pollock: I suppose that I write a lot about violence now because I saw a lot of it when I was a kid. Not murder, but a couple of stabbings and quite a few fistfights, along with men abusing women, stuff like that. Because the threat of violence was always nearby, I paid a lot of attention to it, and as a result it has ended up in my work, just like some writers are influenced by their early experiences with, say, religion or loneliness. With that said, I don’t want anyone to think I’m trying to come off as a tough guy because I’m not. I was mindful of it mostly because I was afraid of it.
Nailed: In the story collection Knockemstiff, towards the end, there’s a medium-sized story called “I Start Over,” which I found particularly interesting and moving. The title lays the groundwork in the reader’s mind for something very hopeful, and as the details of the story pile up, we realize first, this is way less hopeful than we had originally thought, but later, maybe not — there is a freedom, once again, though it comes through violence. By the last page, however, the reader is invited to grab the bleakest of interpretations — that there is actually no hope at all, and that what the main character gets to start over again, is actually this wretched cycle within his life: Incited to violence indirectly or directly based on his child, a momentary flash of freedom, and then punished in one way or another according to the rules of society. Can you talk about this story? What you wanted to convey, how it was written, or maybe if you had the original idea of this kind of perfect circle of a narrative? Maybe you were at a drive-through and saw something like this, and then attached a larger meaning to it…
Pollock: Really, I just began with an image in my mind of this heavyset man sitting in his car at the Dairy Queen drive-through and just kept working on it (I really can’t recall if I saw someone like that sitting in a drive-through or not, but it’s possible). That’s how most of my stuff gets started, with just an image. Being someone who is interested in people who want to erase their past and begin anew, that is, “start over,” well, I guess that idea began to form the story, at least by the second draft. But really, I’m not good at explaining how my stories get written, and, believe me, readers really do see much more than I do, as far as meaning or symbolism or structure, etc. It really is a mysterious process to me, how fiction comes about, and though there are many writers who sound brilliant when explaining such stuff, I always feel like an idiot whenever I try.
Nailed: Fathers and sons figure prominently in many of your stories. Is there some kind of thesis attached to that for you? As in, that particular relationship is ripe with opportunity to explore things that interest you, or things that can be extrapolated onto other relationships in the world? Many times, there is an episode of violence that is almost passed on from father to son like a birthright or a last name, and the feeling a reader often ends up taking away is that these characters are somehow tied to a fate from which there is no escape. Is this something that you associate with a place, or with a particular time in the country’s history, or with an experience that you’ve had of seeing other lives?
Pollock: I really don’t think in terms of thesis or theme. I hate to sound simplistic, but I’m just trying to write stories, and I really don’t think much about them once I’m finished. I think readers are much better at seeing that stuff than I am. I know I tend to treat fathers harshly, though I’m not sure why, except that I’m usually looking for something troubling to write about. My relationship with my own father wasn’t that great when I was young, but I don’t see that as being unusual. I think he did the best he could do at the time. Most men that I meet have had the same experience; and I certainly had a hard time learning how to be a father myself.
I do have an interest in people who are trapped in a situation from which there seems to be no escape. Maybe they were born into it, or got pregnant at an early age, or committed a stupid crime, or became addicted to drugs or alcohol, or quit school, or married the wrong person, or whatever. And many of them never get out, never even try to make a new start. People can get used to anything: being poor, being locked up in prison, being unhappy, being hooked on prescription meds, being abused. And I don’t think it has anything to do with history or a particular place. There are as many people living like that now as there were when I was young, probably more; and it happens everywhere, not just in southern Ohio.
Nailed: I’d like to make the final question about something related to translation, and I apologize if this comes out in a round-about manner. Not sure if your book(s) have been optioned for either film or television scripts, but this is definitely a well-traveled road these days for capable writers who can tell a story. If you have a voice, and your characters take on dimension, sooner or later, Hollywood comes knocking. If this has happened already, can you talk about it? Maybe the up- and the down-side? Things younger writers should know about, or be warned about in advance? And if it hasn’t happened yet, then I’ll ask you to think about the possibility for a minute. What concerns would you have about your novel being translated into a form that was suitable for the screen? Would you want to have a hand in that process? Would you be willing to let your novel become something very different from what it is as a book?
Pollock: Knockemstiff has been optioned to a couple of people in Hollywood, but I’m not sure if anything is happening with it (I’m keeping my fingers crossed!). And quite a few people have asked about optioning The Devil All The Time, but so far there have been no takers. Probably the best thing to keep in mind is that even if your book is optioned, that doesn’t necessarily mean it will become a film, so don’t get your hopes up too soon.
As for having a hand in the project, I’m not sure. I’ve never written a screenplay or, for that matter, even looked at one. I really wouldn’t care that much, I guess, if the movie turned out vastly different than the book, as long as it was a decent movie, because the main reason I’d like to see the books as films is that there’s a chance we would sell more copies of books.
Nailed: And last — if you care to answer in a sentence or two — what are you working on next?
Pollock: I’m working on another novel, set in 1917 around Meade, Ohio, and I’m hoping to finish it by the middle of the summer.