A bright mind in a dark room
Tanya Farber meets internationally successful crime writer Deon Meyer and discovers a man who devotes his working life to the pursuit of a good story
One could wax lyrical about the late Leonard Cohen’s notion that “there’s a crack in everything — that’s how the light gets in”. But for a practical fellow like Deon Meyer, the metaphor is more literal — it’s the single strip of light allowed through a writing room darkened with blinds, so that he can find his dictionary on the shelf.
As SA’s crime-fiction success story, it would not take much for Meyer to build his own mythology with deep and meaningful quotes or, worse yet, platitudes on the gift of writing.
But he will have none of it.
“I don’t believe in inspiration as much as perspiration,” he says, describing a daily routine that has him upright at a computer in the dark writing room by 5.30am. “Inspiration is something you have to sit and wait for like a muse coming to land softly on your shoulder to whisper sweet nothings in your ear. No, it doesn’t work like that. You have to actively watch and listen and read and research. That is how it happens.”
“He is so disciplined, it is crazy,” his artist wife Marianne Vorster-Meyer whispers as the food arrives at their favourite lunch stop on the dappled streets of Stellenbosch, near their home.
She should know.
They have been together for 11 years now.
“At about 7am, Marianne comes down for breakfast and I take a break. Then I am back writing again,” Meyer says.
He is also working on a new television adaptation (in the wake of Trackers), so after a lunch break, he works again until 5pm before another short break during which the two of them go cycling or walking, and then he’s back at it until lights out.
On the new television adaptation, he says, “I can’t say too much because it is not absolutely finalised yet.”
With startling views all around this area of the Western Cape, it is not surprising he has blackened the windows.
“Distraction is a terrible thing. I cannot afford to look out of the window of my studio. I switch everything off and Marianne keeps my phone for me.”
This self-imposed solitary confinement is particularly crucial during the first half of a book.
“That part is such hard work and then a distraction is such a relief so you’re always looking for one — the more you can minimise that the better.”
Also, he says, “if you have as many kids as us, you have to be disciplined with your schedule”.
Between the two of them, six “kids” have come into the picture, one 33 years old, four in their early 20s, and one of 18.
With four of them still living at home the household is busy, and with such a demanding schedule even Meyer’s beloved motorcycle began to gather dust.
“We realised it had been standing for a year. With no time to ride it, it wasn’t sensible to have something of that value standing unused in the garage,” he shrugs.
‘My job is to entertain’
It recently came to light that some copies of his latest book, The Last Hunt, had been printed with the wrong pages inside.
But even this he views with a dry sense of comedy, and remains unflustered.
“It happens. It was not the first time. At the printers, the binding can go awry, but in a print run of 150,000 books there might be 20 that are botched, but because of social media, it gets amplified. They usually send me an e-mail when this has happened, so I know beforehand. With The Last Hunt, seven or eight people contacted me to tell me it had happened.”
When asked if he believes in the distinctive line between commercial fiction and literary fiction, he says, “I don’t think about it, really. A book is either good or bad. I have read brilliant high literature like the work of JM Coetzee, as well as ‘high literary fiction’ that I found unreadable. I have read bad genre fiction and some brilliant genre fiction. I don’t aspire to be a literary novelist. I see myself as a storyteller and my biggest job is to entertain the reader — give him or her hours of pleasurable edge-of-your-seat reading.”
Describing the intricate research that goes into developing his stories, he says: “Everything is a potential story idea. I read a lot. I listen, I watch …”
In a single month his head will be buzzing with several hundred story ideas and then “the challenge is to find the ones that will work in terms of the genre that I write”.
Some of the ideas, when he begins researching, turn up empty.
Others eventually wind up on bookshelves across the globe in 27 languages.
Police service
He describes the process of writing a book as “a long series of making creative decisions, knowing that you have to live with the consequences of each decision”.
He researches multiple paths of where the story could go, so that his “creative options” grow exponentially and then he can begin “cherrypicking”.
A major part of this is a universe inhabited by police officers and investigators — a group of people who in real-life SA are criticised by a public enraged by the levels of violence.
But Meyer, as always, sees the story from all different viewpoints.
“I do a lot of research in the police service and have met some wonderful people there with whom I consult quite often. I know the theories of law enforcement and I do a lot of reading about international practice, and I can tell you, our methods are right up there with the rest of the world.”
He stays abreast of forensic pathology and forensic psychology, and says there are always many new developments in those fields.
On the ground, the police force is like any other workplace: “You will find many police who are not doing their work properly, and many who are doing a great job. It is the same in the private sector and in listed companies too — every institution has its stars and its bad apples. It’s just that the bad apples in the police force cause bigger consequences — but there are excellent police in our country whose work ethic is incredible, and unfortunately there are many mediocre and bad ones too.”
With the notion of “story above all else” emblazoned on the front of his mind, he is not dogged by the issues of representation that hamstring many writers in post-apartheid SA with its ongoing wounds of racial segregation and brutality.
“I think one develops a certain sense of what is totally unacceptable and you instinctively never go there, but I don’t write with an awareness of where I should or shouldn’t go. Story is everything. If it works, that is all I care about. Because I try to keep as much verisimilitude as I can in my work, there is always going to be a multitude of characters representing different local communities.”
Perhaps the most surprising story of all for Meyer is the one about his own success.
He describes it as “astonishing”.
“When I began, I had no anticipation of making big money. I wrote because I loved it and earned a bit of extra money. I started with short stories, which didn’t pay too badly back then, so it was an extra income. That was in the early ’90s.”
When he began publishing novels, it was “money for jam” because he was paid to do something he loved and gained pleasure from the positive reader reactions.
“I had no ambitions of being a full-time writer,” he says.
So how does he now view his own success?
“I was astounded. I absolutely never expected it,” he says.
International breakthrough
His first novel, in Afrikaans and published by Tafelberg, sold a mere 800 copies.
“They said thanks very much but we’re not interested in publishing your next one. So that indicated my position on the literary food chain,” he smiles.
By the time he heard those words, however, he had already completed his second manuscript. This one ended up in the hands of local publishing figure Hettie Scholtz (who he describes as “a formidable figure in Afrikaans literature”) at Queillerie publishing house, and editor Etienne Bloemhof.
It also ended up on the desk of Isobel Dixon, a prominent literary agent in London who is South African and knows Afrikaans.
“It was the second book that opened doors for me, especially internationally,” he recalls.
“When she called and said she would represent me, I was completely over the moon and astonished. I thought to myself, ‘Good luck with that!’ ”
Following hot in those footsteps was a British publisher, then a French one …
“I said to myself, ‘Wake up, this is real’. But even in those early years I didn’t think it would be possible to make a living. It took four or five books before I realised I could earn a living that way.”
He took that leap with the same careful thought processes that go into his books: “I was a single breadwinner and a single parent so I had to make sure I had a nest egg before I could do it full time.”
He had come a long way since his first writing job, as a transport reporter for the Volksblad in Bloemfontein, a beat he says felt like “the lowest of the low”.
“I find a lot of people think being a fiction writer makes you rich and famous overnight, but I had to work for 15 years before I could think of writing full time,” he says.
Today, the rewards for him are not simply financial.
Born in Afrikaans
“It is wonderful. I get the opportunity to meet publishers and readers all over the world and I go to festivals in incredible countries like Norway, Italy, Canada …”
With his books now translated into so many languages, the reach of Meyer’s work has certainly girdled the globe.
But they are born in Afrikaans.
“Because that is my mother tongue it is ingrained in my brain and it is easier for me to write in Afrikaans,” he says. When he has written in English, “it takes a little longer to find the right word and then you take down the dictionary and make sure it is the best one”.
Would a man whose South African sensibility pervades every part of his being ever leave the country of his birth behind?
“Only if we became another Zimbabwe,” he answers, “and if all one’s investments of any serious value were under threat … then tough choices would have to be made.”
But, he adds, “I don’t think it will come to that. It’s just that at 61 I have to start thinking of one day taking care of us when I can’t write any more. I don’t want to be destitute in old age.”
Somehow, that’s the only far-fetched image that this talented and successful writer has likely conjured up in his research-heavy brain.