As I would share a box of expensive bonbons, I dole out tantalizing bits of Robbins to friends, family, students, and myself. They are sweet, cinnamony sayings to savor. "The beet is what happens when the cherry finishes with the carrot." Or, they are philosophical puzzles to chew on. "‘I mean that the gods do not limit men. Men limit men.’" Both quotes from Jitterbug Perfume exemplify the candy dish assortment so many have come to count on in Robbins’ books. From Another Roadside Attraction and Even Cowgirls Get the Blues to his latest, Fierce Invalids Home from Hot Climates, the books are tasty — but nutritious too. I recently had the opportunity to interview Tom Robbins, and here, in buffet style, are some morsels of his characteristic wit and reasoning.
Ariale: Does each book have a different underlying message, or do you find yourself repeating the same ones? Tom: I'd have to say, both. Each of my seven novels explores issues and entertains themes that I've never dealt with before. It does appear, however, that there is a trio of general themes that manifest themselves in various guises in every book. Those themes are liberation, transformation, and celebration. Ariale: What are the main messages you'd like readers to "get" from your writing? Tom: Well, if I were forced to distill what is a fairly enormous vat of chunky and hearty stew into a single cup of clear broth, I suppose that the message steaming from that cup would read something like this: "Our lives are not as limited as we think they are; the world is a wonderfully weird place; consensual reality is significantly flawed; no institution can be trusted, but love does work; all things are possible; and we all could be happy and fulfilled if we only had the guts to be truly free and the wisdom to shrink our egos and quit taking ourselves so damn seriously." Ariale: I do my fiction rough drafts and poetry in longhand and advocate trying this to students; some fight me, wanting to do everything on the keyboard. Could you say a little bit about what you like about using longhand for initial stages of writing projects? Tom: As far as I'm concerned, trying to write meaningful fiction on a computer is like dining out at McDonald's. It's quick, certainly, and easy and convenient and efficient and gets the job done. What's missing is flavor, texture, nutrition, adventurousness, and any semblance of soul. Novels that are composed electronically to be read on a screen are the literary equivalent of Happy Meals. I can't believe that a writer can attain the necessary complexities and multitudinous layers of meaning, let alone push the linguistic envelope, unless he or she commits to a slower, more painstaking and organic approach to composition. Ink is the blood of language. Paper is its flesh. Ariale: What do you think "writer's block" is, and have you ever had it? Tom: I'm not convinced that there's any such thing as "writer's block." I suspect that what we like to call "writer's block" is actually a failure of nerve or a failure of imagination, or both. If you're willing to take chances, risk ridicule, and push the envelope, and if you've managed to hold on to your imagination (the single most important quality a writer can possess, even slightly more important than a sense of humor), then you can dissolve any so-called block simply by imagining extraordinary, heretofore unthinkable solutions, and/or by playing around uninhibitedly with language. You can imagine or wordplay your way out of any impasse. That's assuming, of course, that you're talented in the first place. Ariale: How many times do you go through your writing before you feel it's ready to go to the publisher? And how has that changed since you began your writing career? Tom: When I tell people that I only write one draft of a novel, they jump to the conclusion that I'm riding a wild tsunami of consciousness, like Jack Kerouac with his roll of teletype paper. The fact is, because I write so very, very slowly, because I try never to leave a sentence until it's as good as I think I can make it, and because I seldom produce more than two pages a day, there is no need for more than one draft. I'm rewriting as I go along. When I'm done, I'm done, yet there's hardly a word in any of my books that hasn't been gone over thirty or forty times. I don't necessarily recommend that method — it's probably ridiculous — but I've worked that way since the beginning. Ariale: Some of my ideas come from dreams, some from incidents in my life, many from strong beliefs I hold. What are some of the sources of your ideas? Tom: Most of my ideas are extrapolated from tidbits of information that I come across serendipitously from reading scientific journals, arguing with intelligent friends, and exploring altered states of consciousness, or from simply approaching life with my eyes wide open and my imagination and comic sensibility always intact. Often, it amounts to the slow, pleasurable scratching of an intellectual or spiritual itch. Ariale: Is there a particular time or situation that invites you to write? How long do you usually work in a session? Tom: Waiting for the right time, the right situation, or the right inspiration, well, that's for amateurs. If you're professional, or want to be, you write every day. I arrive in my writing room at ten every weekday morning. That way, my muse always knows where and when to find me. She doesn't have to go looking for me in the bars or on the beach or along the boulevards. She doesn't always show up, true enough, but she knows where I'll be, and that way I don't miss any opportunities. When I begin a book, I work five or six hours a day. But as the months and then the years go by, that gradually diminishes. Toward the end of a book, I'm lucky if I can log in two hours. After a while, it just wears me down. Ariale: Do you do a lot of research on topics while you're writing a book, or before you start? Tom: Both. Since I don't work from an outline or know where a plot is going before I begin writing, I research whenever the need arises. Facilitating research is where the computer really earns its keep. For investigative purposes, the Internet is invaluable, although I still pay visits to the wood-pulp library. Ariale: Does being a well-known writer make you more feel more aware of readers' agendas, or more free to follow your own inclinations? Tom: When I'm writing, my relationship is and always has been solely with the page in front of me. I'm not thinking about anything or anybody else, not even lunch or [Chinese film star] Gong Li, and certainly not "readers' agendas." To consciously cater to the tastes of one's audience is to show that audience no respect. And if the audience doesn't understand that, then it doesn't deserve respect. Ariale: What writers or teachers have especially inspired you? Tom: My worldview has been largely shaped by Zen koans, Sufi stories, Taoist parables, tantric texts, and Tibetan "crazy wisdom" scenarios — their authors generally unknown, except for a few such as Lao Tzu and the most underrated philosopher of the twentieth century, Alan Watts. My approach to writing was inspired by those same sources, combined with James Joyce, Alfred Jarry, Blaise Cendrars, Günter Grass, Henry Miller, Vladimir Nabokov, and the Spanish-language poets, as well as French films, Greek myth, American pop culture, subatomic physics, and things that go bump in the night. Ariale: When you look back at work you've written previously, what do you think of it? Tom: Being fond of Bob Dylan's line, "I've got everything I need, I'm an artist, and I don't look back," I just keep going forward and never read my novels once they're published. The task of evaluating my body of work I'm putting off until my golden years — provided my golden years aren't here already. Ariale: Aside from the obvious dissemination of ideas, how do you see the role of writers in the spiritual evolution of the world? Tom: The role of the novel is to stimulate, challenge, amuse, and thrill. Each of those qualities can have a spiritual application, but it's up to the individual reader to apply it. Having said that, I must also say that I can't help but feel that it isn't enough for novelists to describe misery. We ought to offer ways, however subtle or oblique, to defeat misery or to transform it. One of the ways writers can do that is to awaken in the reader his or her own sense of wonder. I guess I'm in agreement with Kafka when he said, "A novel should be an ax for the frozen sea around us." Ariale: What kinds of things have you done to improve yourself as a writer? As a person? Tom: I challenge every sentence I write: challenge it for lucidity, accuracy, rhythm, resonance, and originality. As a person, I do very little to improve myself. In fact, I think I'm getting worse. Ariale: How has being a writer been a part of your spiritual path? Tom: In the same way that walking in the woods and brushing my teeth are part of my spiritual path. Full consciousness (not that I've attained it) can't be compartmentalized. Ariale: What's the biggest dream, or goal, in your life? Has it been realized? Has an original dream been replaced by a new one? Tom: When I was growing up, I wanted to be Tarzan. Later, I wanted to be a combination of Hermann Hesse and Bruce Lee. Nowadays, my ambition is to become a ball of white light. Tom Robbins will speak at the Prophets Conference being held in Victoria, B.C. August 17-19, where the vision is about the creation of a genuinely workable and bright future based upon depths of authenticity, clarity, spirituality, inquiry, and evolved being. For more details on the Conference, cosponsored by The New Times, see display ad in this issue. |
Good books and good meals make you want to finish them. A great book is a cupboard: one to which you return over and over again for wisdom, solace, stimulation, and pleasure. Tom Robbins writes great books.