Tomorrow, October 15, Colm Tóibín could be Ireland's latest Booker
Prize winning author. In this interview, which took place way back in
2006, I spoke to a refreshingly funny Colm about his writing process,
his struggle with short stories, and the joys of walking around in
mental pyjamas.
EVERY
walk of life has its unique lines of etiquette. Thin lines, almost
invisible to the oblivious eye, but there nonetheless, lurking ominously
in the long grass.
Never, no matter how tempted, reach to brush
away an avalanche of dandruff which has collected temptingly around the
collar of a nightclub bouncer.
When speaking to a member of An
Garda Siochana, never follow the word ‘listen’ with either ‘mate’,
‘boss’ or ‘pal’ and expect to get away unscathed.
And never ever, when speaking with an author, ask how the new book is looking.
“It’s looking awful, now that you’ve asked,” said Colm Tóibín with a smile.
“I
mean, I’ll give you the draft of it and you can re-write it for me if
you like. I wrote the first chapter a good while ago and then just left
it. Recently I’ve found a way to add to it but not by much.
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