BOUNDARIES OF THE SOUL

(Ron) #1

Q14. I don’t think that writing has shaped my interior world at all.
Q15. The characters shape the plot anyway [ in writing] , ... I t’s a discipline, and
sometimes a very gruelling one because the characters must absolutely be faithful
to themselves ... but so much depends on the mood of the person who’s going to
read, and correct or examine your paper.
And when one is working with people, characters, I always think of them as
whole people who actually did live and who we know did certain things. Quite often
it’s remarkable how much we do know about them ... you have to find the missing
bits and you can only find them in your imagination.
Q16. No. I don’t think of a reader.
Q17. No. I ’ve never had a coherent or incoherent mystical experience in my
entire life, let alone when I ’m writing or reading.
Q18. No, it’s too intellectual. When I write it’s a multi-layered phenomenon.
There’s a part of me that’s very emotionally involved. I f I ’m writing a sad bit, I cry.
I f I ’m writing a funny bit, I laugh.
Q19. Yes. Somebody said that Thorn Birds contained universal truths. I f that’s so
I have no idea what they are.
Q21. No, place isn’t significant to me. I t never has been. I t’s very interesting that
I have very little sense of place. I ’ve always thought that Norfolk I sland is the place
where the flying saucer is going to land. I t’s a spooky place this, very. For
somebody who has no mystical experiences and no belief in personal gods or
reincarnation or any of those, what I call quasi-disciplines, I have two ghosts in this
house. One of whom I see, the other of whom I feel, I have no idea what they are.
I know who they are. They’re both Norfolk I slanders. Sonny Boy and Carcar. And
they died. They were mates, they were great mates, they were alcoholics. They
used to sit and drink under the banyan tree up near the school and they died during
the 1960’s. And they move in this house and they’re very benign and the room
doesn’t chill; it’s no ‘Stephen King’, it’s just that I ’ll be making a sandwich for myself
in the middle of the night and I will feel a man squeeze against me behind as he
passes and put both his hands around my waist. And I just sort of have a warm
feeling and think, ‘Oh Rick, what are you doing awake at 3 am?’ And I turn around
and there’s nobody there and Rick is upstairs sound asleep in bed.
The other one moves on castors, wears a red shirt, he glides he doesn’t walk, and I
usually find him again at 3 am examining the contents of the refrigerator. The first
time I ever saw him I thought he was a prowler. I do not believe in ghosts. But

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