Absinthe Minded: James Herbert on his daily routine, writing The Rats and how he hates violence

Sunday, January 13, 2013

James Herbert on his daily routine, writing The Rats and how he hates violence

From The Telegraph

The horror writer talks to Angela Wintle about his working day, the inspiration for his first novel, The Rats, and how horror writing just pours out.

James Herbert at home in Sussex Photo: Harry Watts

By Angela Wintle

James Herbert, 69, is Britain’s bestselling horror writer, a position he has held since the publication of his first novel, The Rats, in 1974, which depicted a London overrun by flesh-eating rodents. His books have sold 54 million copies worldwide and have been translated into more than 30 languages. His latest novel, Ash (Macmillan), is out now. An adaptation of a previous novel, The Secret of Crickley Hall, will be shown on BBC1 this autumn. He lives in Sussex with his wife, Eileen. They have three daughters.

Routine I’m terrible in the mornings, but I’m always at my desk by 10am. You have to be disciplined as a writer. I never plan my novels because if I know what is going to happen it bores me rigid. I let the story tell itself. At 1pm Eileen buzzes me on the intercom for lunch. I’m back at my desk by 2.30pm and work on for three hours, then I reward myself with a large vodka before settling down for The Simpsons. People laugh at this because I’m supposed to be dark and mysterious.

Childhood I grew up in the East End of London, the youngest of three boys in a Catholic household. Both my parents were market traders and worked seven days a week. We lived in a condemned Dickensian house at the back of Petticoat Lane in Whitechapel. The Krays lived around the corner. My mother scolded me once for branding them animals in one of my novels. She said, ‘They read your books in prison and you’ll get into trouble.’

Manuscript This is the manuscript (pictured below) of my first novel,The Rats, which I wrote while working as an art director at a London advertising agency. The book has sold more than a million copies in Britain, although it never reached number one. I think it was deliberately kept out of the bestseller lists because graphic violence was unusual at the time – and The Rats is full of it, although it is never gratuitous. It was inspired by a line in Bram Stoker’s Dracula in which Renfield, the maniac who idolises Dracula, says he has seen a thousand rats with red eyes looking up at him. As I was an art director that phrase resonated because I knew it would make a great visual. It was also drawn from my childhood experiences in the East End. Our house backed on to an area where market traders dumped barrels of rotting fruit. It was alive with rats.

^{Photos: Harry Watts}

Mother This is a sepia photograph (pictured above) of my late mother. She came from a poor background in Manchester and travelled to London to make a new life. When she got off the Tube aged 21 the first person she met was my dad and she asked him to take her to the nearest Catholic church. He accompanied her, even though he was an agnostic, and they started dating. She had an ability to see things with a child’s eye and told us wonderful stories. I’m sure that is where my love of storytelling came from.

Horror I hate violence and I didn’t plan to write horror; it just poured out of me. The great thing is that you can write humour, romance or political thrillers under that genre. You can write about a mundane situation and take a mental leap to something outrageous. When I started out, horror was suggested by other writers but never fulfilled. I wanted to do something different. Unfortunately, some writers took it too far and I took the rap.

^{Photo: Harry Watts}

Drawing I drew this picture of Dracula (pictured above) for a charity auction at Bonhams in aid of the Prince’s Trust to celebrate Status Quo’s 40th anniversary. It was inspired by the film Nosferatu, and depicts Dracula climbing out of a crate of earth after his transportation to Whitby. I have drawn him with clawed hands and a Fender Stratocaster guitar strapped to his back. The caption reads, never too dead to rock.

OBE In 2010 I was awarded an OBE (pictured below) for services to literature. The Prince of Wales, whom I’ve always liked, invested me at Buckingham Palace. He asked whether I was writing a new book and I said, ‘Yes, I’ve just finished one, and you’re in it.’ Well, if you’ve ever seen anyone blanch, that’s what he did. I said, ‘Don’t worry, it’s OK, it all comes out fine.’ But he was completely stunned and that was the end of our chat.