As Hollis Porter lives in Hong Kong and is from the UK, he is an intriguing voice for me to hear. He is a fun twitter friend, but more than anything else, he motivates me and others to write well and think deeper about writing and to question the various degrees of madness found in living. I interviewed him.
Is creativity a universal human trait? Do you ever wonder upon the question of why some have talents with building machines, some create cuisine, others fix cars, others write or paint? Why would that be?
Creativity is a universal human trait. There’s the old proverb that—when born—babies' fists are clenched, and that as that child grows that fist will open; a release of potential. Well, you know what also causes fists to clench? Anger. Fear. Anxiety. The world is relentless in its demands, and that open hand soon retreats; fist close so tightly fingernail imprints are left in plans like inverted half-moons. Creativity’s murdered.
I’m fortunate, I guess—I’ve always been a little antisocial, so the world could never quite get close enough. Creativity thrives on freedom. What form that creativity takes? That’s a dance with chance.
How or why did you become a writer? Did you excel at writing in school, then cultivated your talents in university or adult life? As you are a world traveler how did your life away from your birth country influence the writing you do? Does it lead you to see universal traits of humans, or does it reveal the many differences between people?
I wrote a lot at school. Objectively, based on teacher feedback, I was good. Then, the physical writing stopped. You see, I got older, and the freedom I mentioned previously mixed into a potent cocktail with a rather impulsive—I’m scared but tempted to say addictive—personality, and my efforts moved elsewhere. The sordid tales can wait for brighter days. Anyway, I wrote nothing bar that my studies or work requested. But I still narrated. In more lucid moments I told stories to myself: in my head only. I thank the stability that age, and regret, brings in allowing me to transfer those stories to the page once more.
My experiences in places other than my homeland have influenced my writing to a degree impossible to quantify. There’s the physical; sights and tastes, and sounds and smell that one cannot conjure through words without having experienced them firsthand. From there, you add the people—the stories they themselves tell and how those weave into your own comprehension of the world. Of existence. Finally, the events. The moments. I write about photographs a great deal, and memories— for me— take this form. A still image has a story in every pixel; and a photograph is a single fragment of a second of a story. That’s a hell of a lot of shit to mine a narrative from.
Does all this lead me to see universal traits of humans, or their differences? Both. And those comparisons and contrasts rub against one another. The magic comes from the friction that act creates.
Is the writing form you choose one that allows you to make a living from it, and, if it doesn't allow that, is it a hobby? What is the difference between writing as a career and a hobby? Does it matter? After all, words are words, right?
Writing was—and is—a release. For me, this occurs on two fronts: exercise and understanding. I have a well of creative energy within me; most likely it was this manifesting itself when I stumbled aimlessly through life with stories echoing within my skull. If I do not breathe life into these, I feel restless. Apt to indulge in moments of self-destruction? Possibly. Understanding—well, that’s almost a retelling. Basing words on past events and experiences promotes self-reflection; you’re self-therapising. So, although this gig makes zero coin for me, I’m potentially saving money on counselling.
Could writing end up contributing to my financial needs? It could. Anything’s possible. But there’s currently no huge effort on my part to make that a reality. Between various life commitments, I’m in a calmer and less desperate standing than I have been in the past.
Does genre change the value of words? Stephen King sold millions of books, but in lists of great writers you rarely see his name. Mickey Spillane famously said 'Those big-shot writers could never dig the fact that there are more salted peanuts consumed than caviar.' His aim seems to suggest that it is writers who aim wrongly, but in my mind, the ghetto culture of genres leads the public, critics, and writers themselves to think genre makes a work important or not important. Do your works fall into a genre or do they exist, regardless? What is your preferred subject matter, and genre outlook?
I don’t pigeonhole myself. This may be a personal thing, but writing is an extension of reading, and vice-versa. Stories are told; stories are heard, or read. I don’t limit myself to genre in my reading; I follow my mind. Soul. The same with my writing. Though I will say there’s a thread of darkness running through my narratives. It vibrates. I sometimes wonder how something birthed from invisible thoughts can feel so alive.
So, to answer the question, genre might change the value of words in the eyes of the abstract notion of ‘the public’. And separately, in the circles of critics and academics. But we trip ourselves up when we fall into the trap of equating value with money. What value’s an experience? That’s what a story is.
Where can readers find you, do you have a writer website, how active are you on social media? Do you have any works coming out soon? Thank you for your time and answers.
Links to some short stories and my fairly regularly updated blog can be found at https://www.hollisporter.com/
I’m on twitter.com/hollis_writes
And I have a published short (Delinquent Gospel) at https://www.whlreview.com/no-
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