Interview with playwright and novelist Richard Slota

Playwright and novelist Richard Slota
joins me today to talk about his debut piece of literary fiction, Stray Son.
Bio:
Richard Slota is a mother-son incest
survivor. He writes poetry, plays, novels and non-fiction. He just published a
non-fiction book, Captive Market:
Commercial Kidnapping Stories from Nigeria
. Stray Son is his first work of fiction.
His new plays, Babatunde in Hell and Mascularity,
will have staged readings this October in San Francisco. His
short play, We All Walk in Shoes Too
Small
was produced at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art in London. Dream Big and Famous Michael were
staged by Solano Repertory Company in northern California.
He earned BA degrees in psychology and theatre arts and an MA in
Creative Writing. He has 3 grown children.
He is a member of the Playwright’s Center of San Francisco and
serves on the Mental Health Board of San Francisco.
Welcome, Richard. Please tell us about your current
release.

The book description says: Stray Son is
an adult novel telling the story of a haunted Vietnam vet in the year 2000,
reduced to working for a Santa Barbara mortuary, picking up dead bodies. One
day he picks up a live one—his elderly father’s young ghost, a WWII Marine who
starts following him around town. Then son receives a phone call that his old
father just died. At that moment the young Marine knocks on the son’s trailer
door. The grieving, confused son can no longer keep this apparition from his
wife and kids—and opens the door. The Marine finally declares why he is there:
to straighten out his stray son—and bum a ride to see his dying mother in a
1942 Sioux City, Iowa hospital. The son needs to take his family to Sioux City
in the year 2000 to attend his father’s funeral. So the young father and the
old son take their battles back to World War II on a trip across a wartime
America towards death and an elusive reconciliation.

However, I don’t believe anything I can say about my book in a synopsis really captures the quality or deep humor of the writing. Yes, it’s a dark subject, with dark scenes, but interspersed and mixed in are highly comic scenes–like life. A big part of this story describes driving across America in 1942. The painstakingly researched descriptions are full of extremely accurate detail. I even calculated the speed of the ’37 Packard Super 8 Fleetwood, the distances traveled, and the length of all the family’s rest stops. The next town appears on the horizon at the correct time and the sun sets at the correct time. The weather in Western Iowa really occurred on that day in 1942. Thank you, Sioux City Library. Why’d I do that? It helped me, the writer, believe my own fantasy. 
What inspired you to write this book?
The death of my father. My
parents and siblings had kicked my out of my family 10 years before he died.
But I put my family in the car and took us all to his funeral anyway. This
novel is in part a fictionalization of that event and an attempt to deal with
my dead father with whom I could no longer fight. I hated him when I started
writing and loved him when I finished.
Excerpt from Stray
Son:
I’M
TRYING TO HOLD off an eviction notice and pay my shrink’s bill by picking up
dead bodies at night for Mission Memorial Cemetery and Crematory in Santa
Barbara. One night, I’m waiting on a suicide at a hospital morgue, killing time
reading an article called
Reasons To Kill Yourself” in the local weekly
entertainment rag. Reason number thirty-four is,
You pick up bodies for a
cemetery.” Needless to say, the article put a damper on the rest of the night.
TWO NIGHTS LATER, the
cordless phone ringing rouses me. I reach over and grab it from the floor
beside the bed, not wanting to wake my dutiful wife, after routine sex that
failed to burn down our seedy, aluminum-sided doublewide at the Santa Barbara
Arms Mobile Home Park.
I press a button and say, Hello.
Patrick
Jaworsky,” mispronounces the familiar voice of our cemetery answering service’
s female dispatcher.
“It’s Ya-woor’-skee.
If you’re gonna wake me up at whatever the hell time it is, at least get my
name right.”
“Okay
Patrick,” she answers, her voice both dismissive and unapologetic. “Anyway, I
have a death call at a private residence. Can you take the assignment?”
 What time is it?”
Two oh
six.”
I feel an achy resentment.. I just
wanna go back to sleep.
I’m tempted to use the ol’ “I-have-diarrhea”
excuse, but I’ve used it before with this woman and a removal’s worth a hundred
dollars cash under the table. Our landlord just sent a thirty-day eviction
notice. Since I got run out of the sewage treatment plant job six months ago, we
can’t pay all our bills with just my unemployment and my wife’s paycheck. Now,
after three months of body-snatching, we’re only a month behind on rent. And
last night our six- and sixteen-year olds were asking for new clothes and their
own computers.
I finally convince myself: I’ll do
it.”
She asserts she’ll put me
through to voicemail.
Hold it one
ever-loving minute,” I protest as I walk out to the kitchen, naked, turn on the
light, find the cemetery clipboard and a pen, drop into a chair at the kitchen
table.
Okay, now.”
After a click, the recording
starts; male voice soaked with alcohol says his partner just died of AIDS. I
listen to the answering-service woman ask the standard questions and scribble
the information on my form: Was the coroner called? Yes. Was the death
expected? Yes. Then, name: Mr. Clark; next of kin: Mr. Geis; address: a
condominium on West Cabrillo Boulevard; date of birth: 3/30/1964; date of
death: 6/1/2000; the details of pre-need arrangements; the phone number.
I call the phone number. The
same male voice on the recording answers, and I say,
I’m Patrick Yaworsky from
Mission Memorial Cemetery. I understand your partner has died at home.” I
confirm the directions to the residence, and tell him that two of us will be
there in twenty to thirty minutes.
I consult the June-on-call
list. I’m paired with Gino and I call him. After a minute a very groggy Gino
says,
No problem, let’s roll.”
DEATH IS FUNNY TO THINK ABOUT
because, although my job is all about death, it’s not my
issue.”
I try to empathize and I try to comfort, but I feel disconnected. I’m not the
age, on average, that people die, and right now me and my wife and kids are
doing well.
Then, last week I got a scare
when my boss called me into the office. He invited me to sit down.
I stayed standing and said, What’s this
all about?”
Patrick,
you need to improve your ‘customer satisfaction scores’ with the bereaved.”
There’s
been no complaints from the dead,” I said.
“Don’t be so
sure.”
So, I’m
cold with stiffs.”
Cold with
the living, too.” He pointed at a chair,
Sit down.”
I turned and walked out.
He called after me. It won’t
work. You’re not fired.”
I grinned and kept walking. It
must be hard to find employees in this line of work.
My shrink told me last session
I’m not
in touch” with a whole range of
things I’m afraid of. My family life has gone so well for me since I was kicked
out of my original family back in Iowa ten years ago. Fact is, I have no way of
knowing if my parents are living or dead, unless I get a call from one of them.
Fat chance, which is fine with me. Saves the trouble of acting like I care.
What exciting story are you working on next?
I have a staged reading in
October of my new play, MASCULARITY: a play about Men, Gravity and Gender, set
in the world of power lifting in a grimy, rundown gym. It stars the world’s
second strongest man and his motley crew of hangers-on and wanna-bes’.
When did you first consider yourself a writer?
When I was trying to woo
my high school girlfriend by writing her poems.
Do you write full-time? If so, what’s your work day
like? If not, what do you do other than write and how do you find time to
write?
I write full time. I write
in the mornings, which can spill into the afternoons. I am retired and do
unpaid work as a appointed member of the Mental Health Board of San Francisco. I
also am an Adjudicator for Theater Bay Area, an arts organization. I see 50 to
60 plays a year and grade all aspects of these plays, for an annual theatre
awards program.
What would you say is your interesting writing quirk?
Coffee is my fuel. Going
to the gym 5 days a week is my way to stop writing.
As a child, what did you want to be when you grew up?
A Catholic priest.
Anything additional you want to share with the
readers?
I am working on a book
about the multi-billion dollar business of evangelical religion in West Africa
as a sequel to my book about the commercial kidnapping trade in Nigeria.



Links:
Kindle
| LinkedIn 



Thanks for being here today, Richard!

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