Rufus Garlic, author, invites you to take a quick breather in life’s great steeplechase and read about what makes him tick:
For years I wrote like a clapped out old car – started, faltered and stopped; started, faltered and stopped. Not once did I ever finish anything, didn’t even come close. Then a decade ago life dealt me a few swift mule-kicks and left me feeling as if I had done the Everest descent in a loose-fitting barrel. Wrapped in the blue-grey fungus of my despondency I sat myself down to write and, for once, did not stop. I just persevered. I set out to write a 100,000 word novel and ended up with a 300,000 word monster. The thing had grown in all sorts of organic directions as I penned it. It was a vast, unruly bay tree. So, obviously, what I needed to do was to start with the intention of writing a 40,000 novella and then the end product would be a novel of the requisite length. I had a fresh idea, new characters, some time off work. The result was 120,000 words: The Disappearance Club or A Polish Detective in London.
I write about the thin, troublesome line between good and evil, about the capacity of good people to do awful things when survival is at stake, and of forgiveness and of forgiveness withheld. Sometimes I high-tail it in quite the opposite direction and write for humour’s sake and to make my friends laugh. I write because I enjoy it and because it keeps me off the streets and out of the public houses…at least, until nine o’ clock Interestingly, I cannot write a single line of any quality after that time.
I live in Sickup. Sorry, I mean Sidcup - a town of hidden shallows. I have spent nine-tenths of my life there and surprisingly my creative processes are still in working order. Quite an achievement.
I was asked to provide a photograph of myself and have endeavoured, for three weeks, to take a flattering one. I have now given up in dismay – a flattering one is not possible – hence the excrescence you can see. I even considered dying my hair for the picture (rare vain moment) but could not be arsed in the end. They are funny little teasers, grey hairs, aren’t they? You find and pull out that first one and then it’s like trying to stop the Niagara with a tea-strainer – they just deluge all over your head.
Anyway, this novel of mine… The Disappearance Club or A Polish Detective in London, is a rather serious work (underneath the humour and japes) and asks you, in essence, to consider whether a good man should die or, indeed, whether a bad man should live. The choice was mine, is yours, and has been the major characters’. Interestingly, men and women seem to choose rather differently so whichever gender you are…why not read it and pick for yourself one side of the divide or the other. Happy reading.
- The Disappearance Club or A Polish Detective in London (2013)
- Betting (2014)
- Sari Sari Burning Bright (2014)
- The Skeleton in the Closet (2014)
- The Legacy (2014)
- Sacked (2014)