Intro for Comic Books # 1
People often ask me where I get my ideas from, sometimes as often as eighty-seven times a day. This is a well-known hazard for writers, and the correct response to the question is first to breathe deeply, steady your heartbeat, fill your mind with peaceful, calming images of birdsong and buttercups in spring meadows, and then try to say, “Well, it’s very interesting you ask that ...” before breaking down and starting to whimper uncontrollably. The fact is that I don’t know where ideas come from, or even where to look for them. Nor does any writer. This is not quite true, in fact. If you were writing a book on the mating habits of pigs, you’d probably pick up a few goodish ideas by hanging around a barnyard in a plastic mac, but if fiction is your line, then the only real answer is to drink way too much coffee and buy yourself a desk that doesn’t collapse when you beat your head against it. I exaggerate, of course. That’s my job. There are some specific ideas for which I can remember exactly where they came from. At least, I think I can; I may just be making it up. That also is my job. When I’ve got a big writing job to do, I will often listen to the same piece of music over and over again. Not while I’m doing the actually writing, of course, you need things to be pretty quiet for that, but while I’m fetching another cup of coffee or making toast or polishing my spectacles or trying to find more toner for the printer or changing my guitar strings or clearing away the coffee cups and toast crumbs from my desk or retiring to the bathroom to sit and think for half an hour—in other words, most of the day. The result is that a lot of my ideas come from songs. Well, one or two at least. To be absolutely accurate, there is just one idea that came from a song, but I keep the habit up just in case it works again which it won’t, but never mind.
So now you know how it’s done. Simple, isn’t it?
From The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy (collected edition), DC Comics, MAY 1997
Interview With Virgin Airlines If theres one man who should know a thing or two about travel it has to be the guy who has eaten burger and fries at the restaurant at the end of the universe. We tracked down author Douglas Adams at his new home in the states where he recently relocated for the filming of Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.
I asked him: Whats your best childhood holiday memory?
My childhood holidays were pretty modest. The highlight was a fortnight in the Isle of Wight when I was about six. I remember catching what I was convinced a plaice, though it was only the size of a postage stamp and probably died when I tried to keep it as a pet.
Have you been back there since you were a child?
I’ve been back to the Isle of Wight about once. I stayed at a hotel where the evenings’ entertainment was to turn off the lights in the restaurant and watch as a family of badgers played on the lawn. Where did you go the first time you went on holidays without your parents?
I hitchhiked around Europe when I was eighteen.
What did you get up to? I went to Austria, Italy, Yugoslavia, and Turkey, staying in Youth Hostels and camp sites, and supplemented my diet by going on free tours around breweries. Istanbul was particularly wonderful, but I ended up with terrible food poisoning and had to return to England by train sleeping in the corridor just next to the loo. Ahh, magical times.
Have you been back there since?
I returned to Istanbul once. I was flying back from Australia and arbitrarily decided to stop off in Istanbul on the way back. But getting a taxi in from the airport and staying in a nice hotel instead of getting a ride in on the back of a truck and sleeping in the back room of a cheap boarding house somehow robbed it of its magic. I wandered around for a couple of days trying to avoid carpet sellers and then gave up.
Where is the most remote or bizarre place you have ended up?
Easter Island is, of course, the most remote place on Earth. Famous for being further from anywhere than anywhere else is. Which is why it is odd that I ended up there completely by accident and only for about an hour. I learned a very important lesson from this which is read your ticket.
I was flying from Santiago to Sydney and was a bit tired, having spent the previous two weeks looking for fur seals, and didn’t wake up to what the plane’s itinerary was until the pilot mentioned that we were just coming in for our one-hour stopover on Easter Island.
There was a little fleet of minibuses at the airport, which whisk you away for a quick peek at the nearest statue while the plane refuels. It was incredibly frustrating because if I had been paying attention the day before, I could easily have changed my ticket and stayed over for a couple of days. What’s your favorite city? What fascinates you most about it?
In my imagination, it’s Florence, but that’s only because of memories of traveling there as a student and spending days on end blissed out on sun, cheap wine, and art. Recent visits have overlaid those earlier memories with traffic jams and smog.
Now I think I’d say that my favourite city is just a small town—Santa Fe, New Mexico. I love the high desert air, margaritas and guacamole, the silver belt buckles and the sense that people sitting at the next table to you in the cafe are probably Nobel laureates.
When was the last time you hitchhiked?
About ten years ago, on the island of Rodrigues in the Indian Ocean. Hitchhiking was the only method of getting around the island. There was no public transport, but a couple of people owned Land Rovers, so you just had to hope they’d be passing. I ended up in a forest at dusk wearing shorts, but having left my mosquito repellent behind. As a result I endured the most agonising night of my life.
Where was your favourite place when you were on the road of Last Chance to See?
Madagascar—though in fact that was a kind of prelude to Last Chance to See. I loved the forest and the lemurs and the warmth of the people. What do you consider the most interesting man-made structure in the galaxy?
The dam they are building at the Three Gorges on the Yangtse. Though perhaps “baffling” would be a better word. Dams almost never do what they were intended to do, but create devastation beyond belief.
And yet we keep on building them, and I can’t help but wonder why. I’m convinced that if we go back far enough in the history of the human species, we will find some beaver genes creeping in there somewhere. It’s the only explanation that makes sense. Have you ever been there?
I haven’t been to the Yangtse since construction started. I never want to see the thing.
And the most interesting natural structure?
A giant, two-thousand-mile-long fish in orbit around Jupiter, according to a reliable report in the Weekly World News. The photograph was very convincing, and I’m only surprised that more reputable journals like New Scientist, or even just The Sun, haven’t followed up with more details. We should be told. If you were to name a place that “looks like it’s just been dropped from outer space,” where would you think of?
Fjordland in South Island, New Zealand. An impossible jumble of mountains, waterfalls, lakes, and ice—the most extraordinary place I think I’ve ever seen. If you could go anywhere in the universe right now, where would you go, how would you get there, and who and what would you take with you?
Interview conducted by Claire Smith Virgin.net, Limited, SEPTEMBER 22, 1999
Riding the Rays Every country is like a particular type of person. America is like a belligerent adolescent boy, Canada is like an intelligent thirty-five-year-old woman. Australia is like Jack Nicholson. It comes right up to you and laughs very hard in your face in a highly threatening and engaging manner. In fact it’s not so much a country as such, more a sort of thin crust of semi-demented civilisation caked around the edge of a vast, raw wilderness, full of heat and dust and hopping things.
Tell most Australians that you like their country and they will give a dry laugh and say, “Well, it’s the last place left now, isn’t it?” which is the sort of worrying thing that Australians say. You don’t quite know what they mean but it worries you in case they’re right.