Regular readers of this blog (and Ken Smith, you know who you are), will recognize the name of my friend, the writer Duane Swierczynski. Duane has just published his latest novel Severance Package, a funny and exciting tale of mayhem that updates the Ten Little Indians idea, subtracting some of the whodunit, adding several vats of plasma, and, most interestingly, adding in lots of anxieties about modern office culture. It was a fun read, perfect for the pool, a tad less perfect for your cubicle, and I’m delighted to recommend it. Duane took some questions from me for playboy.com:
PLAYBOY: You’ve written an excellent crime novel (The Wheelman) and an excellent, uh, mad scientist mass murderer novel (The Blonde), both of which took place on the scenic beaches and mountains of Philadelphia. Severance Package also takes place in Philly, but almost entirely within the confines of a single office building. Where did you get the idea for this novel? Is there a part for Steve Carrell?
DUANE: You’ve just pinpointed why I love setting novels in Philly—all of the beaches and mountains! Actually, this bastard child has many fathers. One was the Valerie Plame case. I wondered what it would be like to work for a company that was a front for a spy ring… and you had no idea. (Because that would be me. Totally.) Also, I’ve had the unfortunately experience of having to fire someone, and it struck me how much it was like a professional hit—you pick the time, the place, the method, then BLAM. A person’s life is changed forever. So I thought, gee, what if this whole thing were a bit more literal? And… okay, I admit it. It’s a naked plea for Steve Carrell’s attention. (Steve. Call me.)
PLAYBOY: As in many good stories of action and suspense, there are things going on in your novels beyond the action at hand. (You know what I mean—the guy? And the other guy?) Does inventing these complexities come easily to you? And, in a related question, is it possible that our entire universe sits inside a snow globe that belongs to a child on a distant planet?
DUANE: I wish I was smart enough to plan these things, but they usually bubble up organically. The guys you’re referring to started out as an in-joke, but before I knew it, became a full-blown subplot. This happens all of the time. The only book I outlined was The Blonde, and that was because it was the first novel I had been contracted to write, and I was terrified that I’d screw it up. But I totally agree with your snow globe premise. I just think the child’s grown up by now, gone to college, succumbed to drugs, and now the snow globe sits at the bottom of a cardboard box, buried under Shrinky-Dinks and a bong shaped like a light saber.
PLAYBOY: The violence is Severance Package is sometimes over the top–as I mentioned, I had to stop reading several times to wipe the blood off my glasses. How do you expect your readers to react to this violence? Would it bother you if you lost more than a few readers because of it?
DUANE: I did consider this—which is why there’s almost no profanity in the book. I figure if I got rid of the naughty talk, then I could up the violence, and things would kind of even out. But as bloody as it gets in Severance, I don’t think I overdescribe things. It’s only as intense as your imagination allows. I’d rather set up the shot, lightly tap the ball… then have the reader imagine the rest. I also thought the violence was justified, because people in offices can be downright brutal. Think of all the euphemisms: he stabbed me in the back, she hung me out to dry, you eviscerated them, I’ll have your balls for breakfast… And that was just what I overheard in the teacher’s lounge at Catholic grade school.
You may laugh, but I think the one movie that hit these notes brilliantly was RoboCop. The boardroom violence was just as intense as the cyborg vs. scumbag bloodbaths playing out in Old Detroit.
PLAYBOY: Besides novels, you also write Marvel comic books—Cable, among others. Are there any lessons/methods/techniques which can be learned in writing for one genre that can be applied to the other?
DUANE: Well, my impulse is to usually torture and then kill most of my characters. For some reason, Marvel won’t let me do that with their heroes. (Me: “Okay, in issue one… Cable dies!” My Editor: “Uh, how about we slow things down a bit, Duane…”) So it’s good training, in that regard. Almost makes me want to write a novel where, like, nobody dies. I’ve also learned a lot working with my Marvel editors—Axel Alonso and Warren Simons—who are a pair of hardcore story men. You can’t pull a fast one on these guys—they’ll spot the hole in your script from 100 yards out. So now I have their voices in my head, warning me if I’m trying to cheat a bit of motivation or something in a novel. These are extremely valuable voices to have. Comics also forced me to focus on visuals. I’m a huge fan of the less-is-more school of Elmore Leonard, and I love how he describes almost nothing. Not the characters, not the background—certainly not the weather. This approach, however, doesn’t fly with a visual medium like comics, so I’ve had to think hard about what I want readers to see. And how to communicate that to the artist, without ruining his/her fun.
PLAYBOY: What satisfaction do you derive from writing novels, and why do you think that working in the crime/action/suspense field satisfies you more or better than working in another genre would?
DUANE: Aside from truly loving the genre, I think it’s a framework that gives you the most freedom. This was best described by my fellow Philly crime writer William Lashner, so I’m going to totally steal it. (Thanks Bill!) Basically, a crime/action/suspense story has certain requirements—say, a dead body, or a ticking clock. But beyond that, you can write about absolutely anything. Friendship. Love. Lust. Being a boss. There’s something wonderfully liberating about that, since you’re not just sitting down and saying, “Okay, I’m going to write about Capital L Love.” My master plan (if I have one) is to make my way through every possible sub-genre in the field before I die. I’ve done a bank robbery caper, a private eye story, a headlong-through-the-night ticking clock novel, and now, a spy thriller/horror novel. My next one is probably best described as a James M. Cain-style infidelity story… on wheels.
PLAYBOY: Finally, you’ve announced that you will soon be moving to Wilkes-Barre. Do you have any concerns about how your prose will endure the separation from the Tastycake-and-cheesesteak-rich soil of its birth?
DUANE: Actually, we’re no longer moving. It’s too hard to sell a house these days, which is probably a blessing in disguise. I don’t think I’m ready to leave Philly yet. I’ve got too many subgenres to hit, people to kill…