Ask The Author: Riley Michael Parker

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Riley Michael Parker’s “Silver Dagger” appeared in the November Issue. He answers a lot of questions about houses for us.

1. Have you ever written a story where no blood was spilled?

I have, I have. I write stories in a few different styles, and one of them is somewhat whimsical, perhaps romantically absurd, and most of those pieces have little to no bloodshed. It is not often, however, that I ever submit any of those stories, as I usually write them for specific people, and when I do submit them they do not often get snapped up. If anything, I have been rewarded for my blood lust, and encouraged to go further into exploring everything that violence has to offer (quite a bit, it turns out). My current project is a western called ALL THINGS END IN BLOOD, and it has had a lot of interest given to it (I think I know who it’s going to publish it, but papers have yet to be signed).

That said, if someone wants to read a piece of mine without bloodshed, kissing me usually works. I write a lot of fun, optimistic work for the folks who give me kisses. Or, you know, you could just send me an e.mail and I’ll show you something. Your call.

2. What kind of knife would you carry?

I have carried two in my lifetime. One was basically a garden tool (middle school; I thought I was TOUGH), and the other was a flick knife I bought for a film. I ended up carrying the prop knife because it was just so fun to open, but I think it invites the wrong kind of energy, so I gave it up (I am sort of kind of one of those people). In a world where a weapon was a good idea, I would probably carry a heavy dagger that I could throw, but I would be a bigger fan of some six-shooters. Part of my new western is called ALL HAIL THE REVOLVER. I am a fan, in theory, of old-fashioned gunslinging. As it stands now though, I carry a debit card, and a pen, and get through life just fine.

3. Which fictitious house would you like to live in?

The House of Jealous Lovers, as described by the band The Rapture. In The House of Jealous Lovers, one hand ties the other. Shakedown.

It sounds like a blast.

4. Where did “Silver Dagger” come from?
A friend and fellow writer — the ever-charming Willie Fitzgerald — was visiting from Seattle. We had hoped that his visit would be filled with adventures, booze, and shenanigans, but I am sort of boring and usually broke, so we kind of just sat around looking at each other. He was a good sport about it though, and we made the most of it. One afternoon we were bored waiting for a concert to start, and I suggested that we do some writing from a prompt, asking him to come up with our spark. Without missing a beat, Willie opened my laptop, went to youtube, and pulled up Dolly Parton singing “Silver Dagger.” We listened to it only once, then went to the kitchen table to get to work. We both wrote really interesting pieces that day, both of us ingesting the words of the song in totally different ways. It took a few drafts over the course of three or four days for my version of SILVER DAGGER to really start singing, but as soon as I finished it I said to myself, “This feels like a PANK story to me,” and thankfully, I was right.That’s how the story happened, but I guess it’s not exactly where it came from, is it?

I think the piece came out the way it did because of my fractured concept of family. My parents divorced early, when I was only 8 months or so, and so I have never really known — or fully understood the concept of — the model American family unit. Family to me was always disjointed; a life lived in pockets. Some people in your family you like, some you dislike, some you like too much. You place your bets. You pick your favorites. You make your own family from the pieces available. Then you grow up and stop talking to all of them (well, some of us do that).

People often tell me, after reading my work, that I must not like parents very much, which is true enough, I suppose, but at the same time it is a pretty big misconception. People are just people, nevermind the titles that society gives them, or the things they call themselves. Show me a mother and I will show you a woman. Some women I like, some I don’t. Show me a father and I will show you a man, or a boy disguised as one. Either way, only so many fathers are worth a damn. It’s true that I have a lot of fun exploring family dynamics in my work. I like siblings. I am interested in the politics of children entering sexual maturity in close quarters, changing almost overnight into men and women, but then still acting like kids. I like adults who latch themselves to one another, who have kids, who try and stay together. I like the way some parents blame their children for existing. I like the way some children never develop an interest in their parents at all. Conflict is the most important part of narrative storytelling, and families are full of it. It is possible that deep down I don’t like parents all that much, but the storyteller in me loves that they exist. Sometimes you need a villain, and sometimes a mother or father fits the bill.

5. Is a house not a home?
No, I don’t think so. Home is a feeling. The closest I have ever felt to being home is looking in a certain woman’s eyes. You feel intangible when you feel at home. Invincible; unending. A house can do this, sure, but not for everyone, certainly not for me.
6. House Party, Run’s House, House of Wax, or Welcome to the Dollhouse – which is the better house related movie and why?

WELCOME TO THE DOLLHOUSE is an astounding film. Dawn is such an intriguing character — so hopeful, but almost meaningless within her world. You want everything to be ok, but it’s not that kind of movie. The romance between her and that boy is so real to me. It just rings so true. A lot of romance, whether we like it or not, has roots in aggression and a need for attention, and this film presents this concept so elegantly. I do not take my stories in the same direction, but I have always felt a great affinity for Todd Solondz. In all of his films he focuses on the small moments between people, the strained relationships that build our lives, and I love that. It sounds pessimistic, but happiness comes only between moments of desperation, anxiety, and loneliness. There can be an abundance of happiness in a person’s life, and for many people there is, but true character develops when facing hardships or when trapped in conflict, which is why nine times out of ten drama is more fulfilling than comedy. Todd Solondz has the rare ability to take dark, painful subject matter and infuse it with humor, and I hope I have that too. Most comedy, after all, is built on a foundation of shame (think David Brent from the British OFFICE), foolishness, miscommunication, violence (things like TOM AND JERRY), heartbreak, and tragedy. Comedies tend to take these elements and place a quirky, self-absorbed character in the middle of everything, and then we all laugh at how ridiculous this person acts. Drama is built from all of the same things, but continues on past the punchline and shows how people deal with these issues and move forward, developing beyond their own previously established persona. What I think Todd Solondz does is he writes comedies, and then directs them as if they are dramas. He is aware of his characters’ absurdity, but he still recognizes them as human beings, and that is beautiful.