martinimade

Tor.com is running appreciations of Michael Moorcock. 

Moorcock was my first real, big deal, big girl interview. Photographer Kenny Braun and I drove out to Bastrop in my ancient Ford Escort. We were both almost giddy. That could have been a side effect of the ancient Ford Escort not having decent air conditioning and we were driving through Texas in late August. I think it was more a result of knowing who we were going to talk to.

Despite having excellent directions, we couldn't find Moorcock's house. Or, rather, couldn't believe that the house we found was Moorcock's, given how unassuming it was. His wife* invited us in but warned that we couldn't stay long because he wasn't feeling well. We wound up being there for almost two hours, which is a long time for this sort of thing.

Once we got talking, it was hard to stop. Kenny snapped pictures the whole time. At some point, when she came in to check on us, Moorcock's wife offered drinks. To this day, the taste of creme soda never fails to bring back that afternoon.

We kept trying to leave, mind, because we were both fundamentally polite people who understand that this man needed to conserve his health for things more important than talking to us. I don't say that in a sarcastic of self-deprecating way. Time is finite. 

But one topic led to another. Then we were getting a tour of the house. And of the library, which still gives me goosebumps just to think about. Moorcock's wife kept reminding him to wrap it up. Kenny and I kept shooting each other "how lucky are we?" looks. I don't know whether Moorcock was trying to avoid writing or another tedious task or if we just wound up in the right place at the right time. Regardless, it was a slice of magic.

My raw notes and recording from that day are somewhere in a great computer graveyard. I have vague memories of putting them on a old school 5" floppy disk, which I no longer have the technology to run, even if I hadn't thrown it away three moves ago.

Such is life.

The Austin Chronicle (long may she wave) still has it online, tho. And this quote still tickles me:

MM: You look at all of the writers who are prolific, and it's basically genes. It's all it is. It's solid, peasant genes. They haven't been touched by anything. I've got a picture of my great-grandfather (points to it) and you look at his hands and it looks like they've just been smashed. He lived forever and my father is still hale and hearty. I think that's all it is, just sheer luck. The right genes fitting into place and bam, off you go. You might as well be behind a mule team but you're not, you're actually writing books.

AC: Which sometimes feels like being right behind a mule team.

MM: But I enjoy the process. I don't like writing, I hate actually having to finally deliver, if you know what I mean. All of the other processes are great but actually having to do my best, I don't like.

Thanks again, Mr Moorcock, for everything.

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* I'm pretty sure her name is Linda. Not sure I'd bet on that, however.

Also: have you entered the sweepstakes yet? You could win yarn...