Raleigh Dugal

Even through the trials and toil we writers face, Raleigh weathers the storm with grace. When asked why he writes he said:

… If I could be another type of artist, I would be. I certainly don’t write for the money. I write for one reason alone, and that’s because I have to. Every so often, I think about quitting, about never turning to writing again. It’s a horrifying responsibility, being a writer, even a relatively unknown one. You constantly feel as though you should be doing something other than whatever it is you’re enjoying. It’s like forgetting to unplug the iron for eternity. ….

I have a whole room full of appliances plugged in and humming, but this isn’t about me. Mr. Dugal, take the stage sir.

You know we take great pride in the subtitles of our books and the brilliant stories they inspire. So I have to ask you the first two questions.

Open Heart Publishing: What do you feel is a delusion of insignificance?

Raleigh Dugal: That’s a tricky term, because I think all delusions are kind of significant. When you have a delusion, it dictates the way that you live your life. But maybe delusions of insignificance, in a way, are more significant. They are the private things you dream about that you never tell anyone else. When I was in the sixth grade, I used to daydream about being a rebel fighter against a 21st century neo-Nazi regime. That’s something I’ve never told anyone, and I guess iit’s kind of insignificant in my life, but it’s also pretty significant.

OHP: What is An Honest Lie?

R.D.: I think an honest lie is something that isn’t physically true, but that you believe in yourself. It’s real in your mind.

OHP: Why did you decide to submit your work to An Honest Lie?

R.D.: I submit my work everywhere, without much thought, rhyme, or reason, kind of like a crop duster spraying pesticides. But when I came across An Honest Lie I read the theme, Delusions of Insignificance, and immediately thought of my story, Origin, and sent it along. I was enthralled to receive a phone call from Debrin Case, telling me it was accepted.

OHP: I really enjoyed reading “Origin”, what was your inspiration for the story?

R.D.: I grew up living behind a cemetery, and that was the space where my brother and my cousin and I usually went to play on our own. It was within eyesight and earshot of my house, but there was a sort of gateway of brush, and it really felt like we were far away and on our own over there. There really is a big, squat tree where kids carve their names. I think I took that space and just remembered the things that we talked about, the type of games that we played, and just allowed the story to fill it in with a different set of characters, a different set of parents.

OHP: Besides short stories what other writing endeavors are you currently engaged in?

R.D.: I’m currently marketing my first two unpublished novels, a speculative western and an epic romp through the afterlife of dogs.

My first, Canis Infinitum, hasn’t been published yet. My mother succumbed to leukemia in 2006, and shortly thereafter her dog Kirby was hit by a car. So my book is the story of her dog trying to reach her in the afterlife. It’s pretty weird and outrageous, and was very emotionally draining to write, but I think it put my head in a good place, and I think people will connect with it.

My second novel, A Bloody Fable of Skullduggery & Dust, is the tale of a vengeful Quaker hunting down his brother in the U.S. territories in 1870. It involves elements of magical realism and steampunk, though they’re admittedly sparing. I decided on the term “fable” after the third and final draft, when the moral implications of everyone’s actions really came together. It was a real labor of love (and hate). There’s a blind bounty killer and an exiled outlaw who physically does not possess a heart. It’s interesting.

I just started writing my third novel yesterday, which has a little bit to do with my Catholic upbringing. And (gasp) vampires. Is there a difference? Other than that, I don’t really want to say.

I want to get back to actual writing, and I’ve been seesawing back and forth about which new project to start: a story of a vampire clan in the throes of eighties camp or a tale of robots and cancer in Newport, Rhode Island. Once the cold weather forces me indoors, I’ll probably be able to concentrate on one of them.

OHP: It sounds fantastic to me. Send one of them our way we’d be happy to read it. You have some interesting story ideas there, where do you draw your inspiration from?

R.D.: Everything and anything. Real life, stupid things I think of in the shower, fleeting moments when I’ve had too much to drink. It’s funny, because I’ve never really had a drought of things to write about, just a lack of fortitude and outlets to get them published. It sounds cheesy, but everything in my life inspires me.

OHP: Are there any authors, besides yourself, that you enjoy reading?

R.D.: Good God. Again, in no particular order: Hemingway, Garcia Marquez, Cormac McCarthy, Flannery O’Connor. It’s easy, as a writer, to get enamored with the classics. Do you know why? Because you’re poor, and you can’t afford to buy the work of your contemporaries, and used books are very cheap. But I try. I loved Yann Martel’s Life of Pi, I read Michael Chabon. I haven’t read Tim Davvy’s Amberville yet, but I’m salivating over it. I’d say I fall in love with novels themselves rather than authors.

OHP: I can agree with that, I can fall in love with the idea, the anticipation of the story. But someone had to write them right? Who would you say is your writing mentor/ hero?

R.D.: Easily, Stephen King. When I was twelve I read Cujo because I was afraid of scary movies, and I wanted to be able to face that fear. I was terrified, but I kept reading him, and I’ve read just about everything he’s ever written. I don’t write horror, per se, but his powers of characterization are unmatched, and he never fails to connect with his reader. On Writing is easily the best advice I’ve ever received about the craft from anywhere, and no one will ever match his prolific career. Not even James Patterson.

OHP: I couldn’t agree more. I love King and still have a box full of well thumbed paperbacks. Dude is truly a Mentor/Hero. Do you have a writing nemesis?

R.D.: No. I think all writers need to stick together, because its so difficult, and only seems to get more difficult.

OHP: The business can be harsh and our fellow writers cutthroat. But even with all the slots available out there every month, there are still only so many. Besides writing, what other sorts of deviant behavior do you happen to enjoy?

R.D.: In no particular order, I enjoy flag football, pickup basketball, beer pong, the beach, trying to play musical instruments, home brewing, and grilling red meat.

OHP: We are coming up on the end of the interview here. It has truly been a pleasure getting into your head a bit. I am going to throw a few at you, say what you like. Do you think writers should call Ernest Hemmingway, Papa?

R.D.: I’m a Red Sox fan for life, and David Ortiz has never had any problem being called Big Papi. I’d like to think of Ernest Hemmingway as the Big Papi of the literary world. In fact, he makes an un-credited appearance in an unpublished novel of mine. I’m still debating whether my allusion makes sense or not, but I’d really like to think it does, because if there’s anywhere in the afterlife Ernest Hemingway would want to be, it’s in this spot in my book.

OHP: If there were a million monkeys in a room, each with its own typewriter, how long would it take for them to realize you haven’t provided them with any paper on which to compose masterpieces of fine literature?

R.D.: Monkeys are pretty smart, but I don’t really have a handle on their concept of paper. I think the clicks, clacks, and dings would be very satisfactory to them. They might type several masterpieces of literature before they realize anything at all, if they ever do. Sounds like an installation at the NY MoMa (New York Museum of Modern Art (ed.) to me.

OHP: Have you ever contemplated becoming involved in a revolution?

R.D.: Yes, in fact. I dreamed of it for a long time, but I think your notion of a revolution when you’re a kid is one thing, and when you grow up you realize it’s something very different. A real revolution is something that consumes your whole being, and in my lifetime it’s always been very difficult to let anything do that.

OHP: What do you feel about the following quote “Imagination is more important than knowledge?”

R.D.: Knowledge is the raw material. Without the tools of imagination, it’s useless.

OHP: In your opinion, which is the more important discovery of humankind… plumbing or the written word?

R.D.: Plumbing, clearly, but it probably wouldn’t exist unless someone along the line could write technical instructions, so its sort of a chicken/egg conundrum.

OHP: According to Anatole France “To die for an idea is to set a rather high price on conjecture,” in your opinion what do you believe is worth dying for? What do you believe is worth living for?

R.D.: Your family is worth dying or living for. The people you love. Ideas are funny things, because usually when you’re in the position of dying for them, the people that put you there aren’t as interested in the same idea that you are. But does that really matter? Freedom is certainly worth dying for, but the concept is paradoxical, because when you’re dead, you certainly aren’t free. Then again, maybe you’re as free as it gets. Is death the ultimate price to pay for something, or is there a higher one?

OHP: Mark twain once said that “You can’t depend on your eyes when your imagination is out of focus.” What do you believe he meant by that?

R.D.: I’d heard a lot about A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court before I actually read it. I didn’t realize how bloody and satirical it really was. There’s a claymation movie that used to air on HBO when I was a kid, called The Adventures of Mark Twain. It was creepy and philosophical and magical, unlike anything you really see around today. The whole movie was inspired by Twain’s desire to die upon the return of Haley’s comet, because he had been born the last time it came around. I think his ability not just to understand, but to really, truly appreciate the poetry in that, is what he’s talking about. What does Haley’s comet mean to someone’s eyes when they can’t work the context of it into a subtext that fits into their own lives?

OHP: Most people have two stories for doing anything… a plausible excuse and the real reason, why do you really write?

R.D.: Here’s a secret: I don’t really like to write. I’m an active guy, and sitting for hours on end in front of my computer screen isn’t my idea of fantastic recreation. Out of all the arts, writing is probably the least rewarding. When you’re a painter, you can show someone the painting and they can say yes, that’s beautiful. If you’re a musician, you play your song in front of an audience, and they clap. It’s the same for actors. Writing is, for the most part, entirely thankless. You sit, you dream, you tap your keyboard. When a story does make it out into the living world, you must convince people to invest great amounts of time and emotions into black words on a white page and the spaces in between them.

If I could be another type of artist, I would be. I certainly don’t write for the money. I write for one reason alone, and that’s because I have to. Every so often, I think about quitting, about never turning to writing again. It’s a horrifying responsibility, being a writer, even a relatively unknown one. You constantly feel as though you should be doing something other than whatever it is you’re enjoying. It’s like forgetting to unplug the iron for eternity.

Then there are the moments when the cylinders are firing, when you are clacking away, and the story just happens. Stephen King said something to the effect that he does not really write his stories, but more discovers them, the way an archaeologist uncovers bones, and I’m very partial to this analogy. Once the stories get going, if they’re true to themselves, they write themselves, and you’re just carefully picking away the dust and the grime. When things really get hot, it’s like having a front row seat for the big bang.

OHP: Enough said.

Raleigh Dugal is a former teacher, lifeguard, private investigator, and roller skating DJ. He has fished for blue sharks off the coast of Nantucket, appeared on reality court television (and won), and has driven from Sacramento to Rhode Island in forty-five hours. From March to late August he practices the religion of pickup basketball. In September he converts to flag football. In 2003 he earned a B.A. in English Literature from Umass Dartmouth, and in 2008 completed his M.A. in Professional Writing. Raleigh finds inspiration in the stories of Ernest Hemingway, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, and Flannery O’Connor, and his fiction has been published in Temper and Encounters Magazine. He is intrigued by the places in reality where the truly strange is allowed, and inevitable, to happen: mall parking lots at three AM, public restrooms, and walks home from the bus stop. He currently lives in Massachusetts and is writing his second novel.