Savouring the Metaphorical Sunsets (an interview with Riffle)

 

Have you checked out Riffle Books (www.rifflebooks.com) yet? Their site's great and I'm a big fan of what Riffle are up to. And they kindly wanted to ask me a few questions. The interview is below, and also lives here on their blog.

 

1.
How did 'Digital State' start? Why did you take on this particular book project?

 

The book started as a conversation with my
publisher, Matthew Smith, at Kogan Page. We were talking around how the digital
age is reshaping society, how we all have a data trail, how it’s a fine line,
razor sharp in fact, between a transparent world and one that invades privacy
and civil liberty.

 

There was then another conversation over supper with
Helen Kogan, about how different (or not) Facebook is to being a teenager
hanging out at night by the bus stop. It’s a long story, from a very social
night. But long-short, these two conversations sowed seeds and triggered
questions like:

 

How is society evolving, as a consequence of
technological change? How has this invisible
technology, “digital”, become this cultural contagion that we’ve all bought
into but also can’t escape? How has the very idea of the Nation State changed,
been usurped even by this “Digital State” we’re in?

 

Once these questions started fizzing around, there
was no real turning back. You have to look for answers, otherwise it becomes a
set of whispers that can send you crazy.

 

2.
What did the experience of writing this book teach you about your
writing/writing process?

 

Before ‘Digital State’,
I’d written one novel and one other non-fiction title.

 

My novel, ‘Remember to
Breathe’, is 90’s set, in a time “Before Facebook”. It’s part rom-com, part
rites of passage, part gender satire - which sort of nets out at genre-bending.
My previous non-fiction title, ‘The Better Mousetrap’, is all about how brands
must keep re-inventing if they are to retain fame and consumer following.

 

This new book, ‘Digital
State’, was a very different experience to the other two. Where my first two
books were personal journeys - though the content of each coming from very
different places - Digital State is an anthology. 16 chapters, 14 contributors.
My role was as writer and editor. It was a shared journey; an ever-so precarious
adventure more akin to forming a garage band.

 

3.
So, the idea of ‘Digital State’ following an anthology-album felt important?

 

Yes, very much so. Tim
Berners-Lee described the internet as a “collaborative play-space”. Very
simply, I wanted the format to reflect the theme, to be a collaborative
discourse. And so I sourced my own crowd; loved the idea of inviting people I
know (friends and experts in their respective fields) to form our own band and
see what kind of album we could make.

 

I figured there was one
future where we might go multi-Platinum, and another where there’d be blood on
the garage floor - y'know, mixing in with the puddles of engine oil. 

 

4.
Which writers or books have had a significant impact on you and how?

 

‘To Kill a Mockingbird’ and ‘1984’: for me, two
novels that example fiction at its most profound and fundamental. They’re
almost a kind of companion-set and commentary on human nature and our potential
for good and otherwise. I first read both in my teens, in the same year, and
they were massively influential and informing, part of my reading rites of
passage.

 

Stephen King and Carl Hiassen were also serial
contributors to my rites of passage. No one builds suspense like King. No one
does Florida odd-ball better than Hiassen.

 

Luke Rhinehart (for The Dice Man), Stephen Fry, and
Iain Banks: all essential mentions for the impact they’ve had on me. And I’d
add into the mix two debuts: J. McInerney’s Bright Lights, Big City and Bret Easton Ellis’s Less Than Zero.

 

For pure escapism, that doesn’t get more rich,
vivid or downright stylish: anything and everything by Philip Pullman and Ian
Fleming.

 

And I always feel a little smarter and a lot
humbled reading Norman Mailer. ‘The Fight’ is as good as (sports) writing gets.

 

5.
Are there any talents or skills you are currently cultivating?

 

This is where I’d like to say something that sounds
cool and snappy, like, I’m learning sax, or, I’m teaching myself Mandarin. Only,
I’m not learning sax. I’m borderline tone deaf, was told to mime playing the
recorder as a kid, and the closest I’ve got to mandarin is eating one.

 

I think being the better version of yourself is a
fairly planet-sized challenge that’s healthy to look straight in the eye once
in a while. Being a parent, and trying to do a good job at it, is a lifelong
challenge. Trying to strike the right kind of work-life balance can be damned
hard too, because it’s too easy to get sucked into projects where it’s hard to
step back.

 

The French poet Anatole France once said, “Our
passions are ourselves.” I’ve always loved that line. Our passions define us. By extension, I think ‘Our
obsessions are ourselves.” They not only explain us but help explain what we
accomplish. I think any success comes in part from being obsessive - but the
trick is to not sacrifice all else when you’re in that obsessive place.

 

Perspective, balance, priority; I’m trying to
cultivate abilities in all three. I figure I’m a permanent
work-in-progress.    

 

6.
Is there any technology to which you find you are particularly addicted?

 

This question is, of course, very pertinent to some
of the themes in Digital State.

 

It’s fascinating to me that technology has even become
a thing of potential addiction, a 21st century narcotic for most of
us. We’ve suddenly all become technophiles.

 

This sensation of not feeling connected, of not being with our mobile phone or an
internet connection, is creating a very new sense of estrangement and alienation.
At the same time, having that connection is potentially disconnecting us from the physical and emotional moment. With
social media, we run the risk of developing a ‘curators conceit’ and turning
ourselves into the biographers and
chroniclers of our own digitally abridged and polished life-narratives.

 

I’m coaching myself to try and feel good about being
out of wi-fi area once in a while.

 

7.
If you could instantly change one thing about the internet, what would it be?

 

The internet is changing all the time – so we
really have that very opportunity. The important message is: whatever the
internet is today, we can change it, can improve it. The internet is a
reflection of who we are, good and bad. We’re really holding a mirror up to
ourselves. So the challenge and invitation is that the internet reflects us at
our best; that we ensure it brings out the best in us.

 

Open-source isn’t the same as laissez-faire
and I don’t think the internet should be all laissez-faire and self-regulation.
There have to be some checks and measures in place, some stewardship and good
governance. Ensuring the global digital super-brands like Google don’t become
global monopolies but remain answerable and accountable would be one “instant
change” that’s easier said than implemented. Ensuring young people have more
anonymity and greater protection when online also requires swift and decisive
attention and action.

 

The internet is still in its Wild West years, with
some panhandling and others trying to sell us snake oil. It’s all very exciting,
but not all gunslingers are good guys. We need to have a much clearer sense of
who’s wearing the white hats and who’s dressed in black.

 

8.
What do you consider your greatest achievement?

 

My children. No question. Easy answer. I know almost
anyone can do it, become a parent; that almost all of us are made biologically
capable… but I still find the concept of having children remarkable. You become
a parent, and your only point of former reference is when you were a child
yourself. No one - outside of the caring professions - is equipped with any
previous experience. So from day one, it’s a crash course… in what can feel
like free falling.

 

Getting to witness and be part of my children’s
lives is amazing, the greatest privilege... and yes, a fairly frequent test of
patience.   

 

9.
Finish this sentence: When I was a kid, I wanted to grow up to be. . .

 

Y’know, this question always worried me when I was a
kid. Because I had no idea. At least, no realistic idea. James Bond looked like
he was having a pretty good time, but beyond a life of romantic espionage,
exotic travel and alluring femme fatales, I had no clear back-up plan. So if
you’d asked my 12 year old self to finish the sentence, I’d have drawn a
troubled blank. By the time I hit my late teens, I knew what I really wanted to
be was a writer, but I’ve always looked upon writing as more of a passion and
vocation, rather than any sure-fire way of paying the mortgage.

 

Stephen King’s line in ‘On Writing’ is genius, where
he says, “Writers write.” In other words, doing is being. I love that, because
it kills any doubts, cuts through the crap and tells you to get on with it, or
get on with something else. Advice rarely gets more sage.   

 

10.
If you could give your past self one piece of advice, what would it be?

 

Savour the moments, as they happen, when they
happen. Truly, feel them. ‘The Present’
is a tense I think many of us could live in more. It’s so easy and tempting to
be looking forward or reflecting back. We live in ‘The Past’, nostalgically,
regretfully, re-running, even re-writing. We live in ‘The Future’, planning,
worrying about the ‘what if?’ and aspiring to the ‘what might be?’

 

A little clichéd as motifs go, but I find sunrises
and sunsets provide jarringly poignant moments of ‘Right Now’. I still need to
heed my own advice much more – because I can get carried away thinking forward –
but I’m trying to savour the metaphorical sunsets.

SP.