A Conversation (Intervention) with Rammel Hawking

me: Sir Hawking, it’s such a pleasure to get to interview you in person.

Ram: (third finger)

me: (sigh) Okay. What is this about?

Ram: Well, forgive me if I do no’ sound polite, but I can no’ say ’tis a pleasure bein’ interviewed by you.

me: Why not?

Ram: Why no’ indeed. I only agreed because of the chance to say fuck you in person.

me: Okay. What exactly is the problem? You did end up with everything you ever wanted, didn’t you?

Ram: Aye. No’ denyin’ that. My problem is not with endin’s. ‘Tis with the bloody well fucked up middles.

me: I see.

Ram: No. You do no’ see. You sit there in your tidy, little, safe, air conditioned version of reality without a single bloody care for what you are puttin’  me through. Have you ever had a broken rib? It hurts! Do you know that?

me: Well, I…

Ram: You write like ’tis nothin’. And ’tis nothin’ compared to a concussion and a hundred and forty three stitches. How would you like to have to face your mother lookin’ like that?

me: Um, that doesn’t happen until Book Two, The Witch’s Dream which was just released today.

Ram: So just because they have no’ read about it yet means it did no’ happen? (chuffs) My mother cried for hours when she saw me lookin’ like this. That was a bloody fun time I can tell you.

me: I’m, uh, sorry. I didn’t realize she would take it so hard…

Ram: Come to think of it, I should have brought her with me. (evil smile)

And what about that bit between me and my da – when he asks how the other fella looks? And you make me say the other fella got away with no’ so much as a scratch? To add insult to injury you made me smile while I said it! So then he asks me to explain how it happened and I have to tell the fuck all, king da’ of Elfdom that I got a hundred and forty three stitches in a knife fight in a bar!

me: (sigh) I admit that was an understatement but, technically, it was true. You did sustain your injuries in a knife fight in a bar.

Ram: (gaping) You are cold as Paddy’s feet on a February morn.

me:  Now wait a minute…

Ram: Just gettin’ started.  

me: Oh here we go. (Muttering to myself at this point.)

Ram: Can you even begin to imagine that three months feels like an eternity when you’re an elf waitin’ on his mate to make up her mind?

me: Well, I have a pretty good imagination…

Ram: Oh? You can imagine how it feels to have a ragin’ cockstand for weeks on end that does no’ even wane when you sleep? Balls achin’ like they’re bein’ squeezed. Just how is it exactly that you can imagine that, Mistress? How about this one? Can you imagine how it feels to wake and find your love lookin’ back at you with vampire blues? Let me tell you how it feels. Your insides go completely cold. When that chemical hits the bloodstream it truly does feel like ice in your veins.

me: I’m sure that was a very unpleasant experience…

Ram: Unpleasant? You really are a stonehearted bitch. I feel like kickin’ the legs out from under your chair.

 me: (Trying not to laugh.) I was feeling really bad for you, and a little guilty, right up until you just threatened to dump me on my can. Which was very un-knight-like behavior. I never would have written you that way.

Ram: Oh no? Well, I have a surprise or two and here’s the first. You’re fired.  

me: You can’t fire me, Ram. I’m the Creator.

Ram: You know, you sounded just like her when you said that. ‘Tis very disconcertin’.

me: Well, you know there’s probably something of me in every one of the characters.  

Ram: Characters, is it? “Tis all we are to you? (Looks like his feelings are hurt then curses in Irish under his breath.) Right. Well, that explains a lot. You want to know who’s the real villain in your stupid stories?

me: I see where you’re going with this, but, Rammel, writing villains is not the same thing as being a villain. My stories are just a reflection of life.

Ram: (sneers) Aye. A House of Mirrors reflection.  

me: Well, yes. Otherwise, it’s called the daily news. How about this? I’ll give you a reprieve and visit the less pleasant stuff on somebody else for awhile.

Ram: You do no’ seem to be gettin’ it. ‘Tis no’ up to you anymore. Consider this an intervention. You’re hurtin’ people. ‘Tis goin’ to stop. 

me: Okay, look, everything you say is true, but you’ve left out the other side. And I really do love you. Probably more than any other of you, uh…

Ram: (narrows his eyes) …characters. I might be willin’ to let bygones go, but it works both ways.

me: What does?

Ram: I know what you’re thinkin’. I heard your twisted mind riflin’ through possibles and sortin’ out what you’re plannin’ to do to us in Book Three.

me: You did? (I swallow.)

Ram: Aye. And some of it ’tis nothin’ less than sick. We’re all thinkin’ perhaps ’tis time for you to see someone.

(My husband walked in just as I was concluding this interview. He asked what I was doing and, without really thinking it through, I made the mistake of telling him the truth after which he replied that he had always wondered how I can be content to be alone for extended periods of time only to find out that I only appeared to be by myself.)