Author Paul Jameson British Fantasy Horror fairy tales
Fantasy and crime author Paul Jameson.

Over the winter author Paul Jameson generously agreed to submit to an electronic interview, and we discussed fairy tales, myths, and legends. I’ve reviewed Paul’s wonderfully creepy fantasy novel, Nightjar, here.

According to Paul’s Amazon author profile, he writes “for the dark and quirky, the strange that makes you think. Brought up on Dahl, Du Maurier, Tolkien, and Poe, Paul is a cross-genre author, predominantly within the fantasy and crime genres, whose work carries a strong folk-horror motif. There are overtures to nature, folklore, paganism, and fairy tales in stories that explore the liminal edges of a wild wood or the urban cityscapes where monsters still lurk.” 

Paul has published two novels, Nightjar and Seventy-Six and the Odd Ninety-Three, as well as several short stories, available on Amazon.com. Follow Paul on Twitter, Goodreads, and Facebook. Later this month, Paul will join us again with a guest blog on the genre of fairy tale, myth, and legendary stories.

Kathy: Have you always been interested in fairy tales, myths, and legends? (Kathy writes about the fantasy genre, here.)

Paul: Sort of…

I’ve always been very interested in history, which is never far from legend, and we’re really lucky in England to be surrounded by it. Around every corner there’s something to be discovered. There are Roman and Iron Age forts, Viking encampments, Neolithic standing stones, Medieval churches and castles in even the smallest villages, and the memories of kings and queens, knights, serfs, merchants, and peasants are never far away. The countryside is quite unique too, covering a diverse range over relatively short distances—from pastoral field and moorland, to dark pockets of eerie woodland, still rivers and winding lanes; on into brick-built industrial estates where narrow alleys and tall chimneys dominate, and Victorian ghosts still walk. It’s a great place to let one’s imagination roam free.

Couple this with a love of stories…

Kathy: When and how did that love take hold? 

Paul: Me being a child whose nose was forever buried in a book. I was brought up on Bible stories, loved Aesop’s fables, [Winnie-the-]Pooh, Noddy, and all the classic fairy tales. I progressed naturally onto “older” books. [Enid Blyton’s] Secret SevenFamous FiveBiggles and so on into Wilbur Smith and historical fiction, so that I pretty much forgot about fae and legend as a genre.

Until I read Tolkien.

I was about fourteen and didn’t have the best childhood, so Lord of the Rings was a complete escape for me. That literary discovery, coupled with an academic love of history and increasingly escaping a house of pain into a land where the fae and the past were never far away, was a perfect storm, I guess.

That’s when my interest really took hold.

That’s when I began to picture elves, goblins, and other such beasties in the shadows of trees. I heard deer cough, owls shriek, and foxes scream around the old castles I was drawn to, and I wanted to know more about what shaped the land. I wanted to know about the Celts and Saxons, Vikings, and more: their beliefs, the old ways, and even older gods. And so, I suppose that’s how I was drawn into legend, myth, and fairy tales.

At least that’s when it took proper hold and never let go.

Kathy: What is your favorite tale or type of tale?

Paul: Cruel question; there are too many to choose from. Greek myths and the legends of Arthur to ghost stories and the fiction of fantasy, all have something special and unique to give to each person that reads them. I love them all.

BUT…

If pushed, my favorite tales border on the real and imagined, where there’s an element of ghostly truth and real potential. Tales that spark a darkness or light that lives in the reader’s mind and stays there. The sort of tale that makes you scuttle down alleys and glance back at shadows or makes you too scared to wander the woods and graveyards at night; those are my favorite tales.              

Kathy: Your story Nightjar is very much rooted in a specific place, while many classic fairy tales have a “anywhere/everywhere” vibe to the setting. What role can setting play in legendary tales? 

Paul: I think there’s a place for both.

I’ve always loved historical fiction, and so I enjoy tying places that exist into my writing. This gives me something tangible and present to tie my imagination to—a stage so to speak—whilst allowing me to look to the past (geographically, socially, and historically) to inform what that future place might be like. This makes what is written less “out there,” even if it contains the otherworldly. It also forces me to slow down and really take in what’s about me—environmentally; not a bad thing for a recluse with severe social anxiety. 

One of the best compliments I’ve had is two sisters who took the time to follow the route the two boys took in Nightjar.

Paul Jameson

Also, as a descriptive (and some might say literary) writer, I enjoy using real places as settings in that they become as another character to the reader. You have the buildings, trees, animals, and more to add depth, feel, and emotion. One of the best compliments I’ve had is two sisters who took the time to follow the route the two boys took in Nightjar. They discovered Medieval churches, Iron Age forts, a beautiful walk, and found that Bedfordshire does indeed have a glacial escarpment, where once a sea did lie. I’m pretty sure a writer can’t get a much better compliment than someone entering your fictional world for real.

All the above, I think, applies to legendary tales—be they told by bards around a fire or an author in a book. Real places make it easier for an audience to believe in more fantastical elements of a story or legend. That being said, I also know a lot of authors prefer creating entirely fictional worlds, and there’s nothing wrong with that. Indeed, I might try it myself one day.  

Kathy: What is your writing process? 

Paul: I write every day.
Pretty much;

There’s a shed in the back garden, and I retreat there with a huge mug of milky coffee, a pint of Coke, and Bilbo—the black cat that follows me. Bilbo settles in under my desk while I light a candle; turn an hourglass; and choose music, telly, or ambient noise (birdsong or rain outside) as my background for the day.

Then I write.
Or edit.  

I’m not a prolific writer. I had a couple of serious mental breakdowns circa 2014, so my brain gets “saturated” or “drained” quickly. Indeed, I first used writing as a means of recovery at the onset of insanity. A sentence a day then was a huge achievement, and so I learned not to judge myself by quantity—word count being quick to the lips of many writers—but rather by a quality of the words; trying to be succinct with a poetic turn of phrase. Now, I try to write at least a page a day, usually 500 to 1,000 words, but I won’t be disappointed if I only write 100 to 300.

Anything is better than nothing.  

Kathy: Does the process differ for fiction and nonfiction? 

Paul: These are very different styles of writing for me.

Nonfiction tends to be a splurge of mess and thought that I cut down, prune, tidy, and mold into a semblance of order after the fact. It’s often a nonsense made to make sense. 

Fiction, though, I tend to be surprisingly succinct at first take, editing as I create. Then in later edits, after the first draft, I tend to expand content and language. Also, with fiction, and this may sound weird, it feels like I’m not the one who writes it. Rather, characters tell me what to write and I’m but a scribe. If I try to force or drive a storyline, it rarely works. Characters refuse to cooperate and force me back in a direction of their choosing. At first this felt weird, crazy, but I’ve learned to trust the voices and ignore my own better judgment. It seems to work. 

Kathy: What things in your life or your own make-up (emotional, spiritual, whatever) impact your process?

Paul: I’m not sure my process is affected by external factors in my life—other than the choice to do it from a health perspective. I’d be lost if I didn’t write.

Kathy: What does storytelling mean to you?

Paul: Everything…

As either the artist or the audience!

I don’t think it would be an overstatement to say that stories, fiction, and my imagination helped save me from myself and others. I used it as a means to escape severe mental, physical, and emotional abuse as a child; to recover a level of sanity after complete mental breakdowns as an adult; and now I use it every day to give my life meaning and enjoyment. 

 Yep.

Storytelling is pretty much everything to me.  

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