After several days of self-sustained purgatory, I now find myself in the situation that I have finished The Collector of Tales. Finished that is in the sense that I have now edited it for the last time ; put in some notes to help those who struggle with the dialect; and, added a Forward to explain why I have even put in a dialect in parts of the book at all. I have given up on a change to the cover as somehow everything that I tried felt wrong. Yes I know it's not very sexy and some stark colours, black and blood red on white would have been more arresting but no matter. It's there now on Kindle and on Lulu.com for those who want to look.
I thought that to mark the launch of the book, I would interview The Collector about it and find out what it meant to him.
I finally caught up with him in a noisy and oddly rather sunny cafe in his home town of Breyford: a funny little town on the outskirts of nowhere. Here for the price of a chai latte and a bobbin ( that's a curious little cold crust pie-like thing with shredded vegetables and some kind of cheese in it - if you need to know) I managed to coax him into giving me a few words. Actually, quite a few words were offered and here is a small selection.
David: So what's the book all about then?
Collector: You know, it's odd but I damned if I really know. I seem to spend a lot of time wandering about and being picked on by a few curious characters who are clearly intent on making my life even more difficult than it really is. There's also this odd activity that keeps happening off stage as it were. Being followed by people in dark cloaks is bad enough. Poor old Welcome having his head caved in in the marketplace is pretty grim and those two beggars at the Sun Inn dumping me for dead on the road to nowhere more or less takes the biscuit.
David: Well could you give me an idea of the plot?
Collector: Oh, sorry, I thought I had. Well, it goes like this. I'm looking for a tale to add to my collection and I have headed off into the northern lands to hear it in the raw. In this rather strange village, I find a storyteller who is actually pretty good even though he is a bit of a head case. He tells me all about it, you see. But it's no good just relying on one source and so I head up to Trellsheim - that's the only urban centre up that way for more miles than I would bother to count. There's a lot going on up there and whilst I find a few bits of extra stuff about them, I don't actually get ot the heart of it until those two .... shall we say 'characters' .... dump me in the snow outside the town. That's when I meet the real Fire Dancers - that's what the tale I'm looking for is about - did I mention that?
David: Er, no.
Collector: Ah, well that's what it's about. In fact it was going to be called The Fire Dancers you know, originally that is. Somehow it seemed a bit too much like a fantasy story though - you know Tolkein that sort of thing. Still we took a knife to that and cut out a lot of the damage.
David: So you are not a fan of Tolkein?
Collector: Did I say that? No I didn't. I am very fond of Tolkein and I've read the book [LOTR- ed] more times than I can recall. It's just that, well Tolkein belongs in Tolkein and not in the Collector of Tales.
David: So if it's not fantasy, how would you label the story?
Collector: Now why on earth would I want to label it at all? It has a title (and a pretty good one, I don't mind saying) and there's nearly 80,000 words to tell you all about it. What else do you need?
David: Well, I mean what genre is it?
Collector: Ah, why didn't you say! Simple. It's Literary Soap.
David: I'm sorry, I've never heard of that.
Collector: Well of course you haven't. That's because it's not been written before.
David: Do you think that you could expand on this?
Collector: Well of course I can, my boy but I'm afraid that it will have to wait for another day.
With that, The Collector stood up, spilling as he did so, my untouched (and now cold) cup of coffee. He flung his day sack over his shoulder and headed off with just the briefest of nods of his head in my direction. I watched, slightly baffled as his retreating form shuffled off down towards the main road. Here, he stepped over the stream that ran down the centre of the alley - don't ask - and was gone.
Somehow he had managed to leave me feeling slightly breathless. I was just glad that I hadn't tried to interview Grendel's Mother but if you want to know why, you'll have to read the book.
I thought that to mark the launch of the book, I would interview The Collector about it and find out what it meant to him.
I finally caught up with him in a noisy and oddly rather sunny cafe in his home town of Breyford: a funny little town on the outskirts of nowhere. Here for the price of a chai latte and a bobbin ( that's a curious little cold crust pie-like thing with shredded vegetables and some kind of cheese in it - if you need to know) I managed to coax him into giving me a few words. Actually, quite a few words were offered and here is a small selection.
David: So what's the book all about then?
Collector: You know, it's odd but I damned if I really know. I seem to spend a lot of time wandering about and being picked on by a few curious characters who are clearly intent on making my life even more difficult than it really is. There's also this odd activity that keeps happening off stage as it were. Being followed by people in dark cloaks is bad enough. Poor old Welcome having his head caved in in the marketplace is pretty grim and those two beggars at the Sun Inn dumping me for dead on the road to nowhere more or less takes the biscuit.
David: Well could you give me an idea of the plot?
Collector: Oh, sorry, I thought I had. Well, it goes like this. I'm looking for a tale to add to my collection and I have headed off into the northern lands to hear it in the raw. In this rather strange village, I find a storyteller who is actually pretty good even though he is a bit of a head case. He tells me all about it, you see. But it's no good just relying on one source and so I head up to Trellsheim - that's the only urban centre up that way for more miles than I would bother to count. There's a lot going on up there and whilst I find a few bits of extra stuff about them, I don't actually get ot the heart of it until those two .... shall we say 'characters' .... dump me in the snow outside the town. That's when I meet the real Fire Dancers - that's what the tale I'm looking for is about - did I mention that?
David: Er, no.
Collector: Ah, well that's what it's about. In fact it was going to be called The Fire Dancers you know, originally that is. Somehow it seemed a bit too much like a fantasy story though - you know Tolkein that sort of thing. Still we took a knife to that and cut out a lot of the damage.
David: So you are not a fan of Tolkein?
Collector: Did I say that? No I didn't. I am very fond of Tolkein and I've read the book [LOTR- ed] more times than I can recall. It's just that, well Tolkein belongs in Tolkein and not in the Collector of Tales.
David: So if it's not fantasy, how would you label the story?
Collector: Now why on earth would I want to label it at all? It has a title (and a pretty good one, I don't mind saying) and there's nearly 80,000 words to tell you all about it. What else do you need?
David: Well, I mean what genre is it?
Collector: Ah, why didn't you say! Simple. It's Literary Soap.
David: I'm sorry, I've never heard of that.
Collector: Well of course you haven't. That's because it's not been written before.
David: Do you think that you could expand on this?
Collector: Well of course I can, my boy but I'm afraid that it will have to wait for another day.
With that, The Collector stood up, spilling as he did so, my untouched (and now cold) cup of coffee. He flung his day sack over his shoulder and headed off with just the briefest of nods of his head in my direction. I watched, slightly baffled as his retreating form shuffled off down towards the main road. Here, he stepped over the stream that ran down the centre of the alley - don't ask - and was gone.
Somehow he had managed to leave me feeling slightly breathless. I was just glad that I hadn't tried to interview Grendel's Mother but if you want to know why, you'll have to read the book.
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