Interview with A.J. stanton

From the mind that brought us Gutter Punch

A.J. Stanton has been busy reading and publishing some brilliant stories for the Deception call. Now it’s time to find out a bit more about the writer who has been thrown into the editorial seat!

Hello Mr Stanton. Firstly, thank you for trusting us with the outrageously satisfying Gutter Punch! Secondly, thank you for answering some questions for us and our readers.

Gutter Punch is crammed full of stereotypes. Some are too close to the truth to be fiction. How much were your characters based on real life people?

Several characters in this book are an amalgamation of real people I have met or come across over the years. Tony for example is a mix of your stereotypical PI, this guy I met in a McDonalds once, and another guy I met in a police station many years ago (don’t ask). I think the first guy was a ticket tout by trade, and the other was a petty thief. They used the c-word in every sentence as a weird kind of punctuation that served no purpose as either interjection or exclamation, and the people they were talking to carried on as if this was completely normal.

Some of the journalists and famous people referenced in the book are obviously a little bit inspired by real journos and celebrities. I’ll leave it to readers to guess who they might be.

The setting and place is far removed from Sex Robots Must Die (SRMD). How did you feel about moving away from the future?

Writing about a future is more fun as you get to create the whole world. Gutter Punch is very much set in the here and now, but obviously embellished and over the top. I think this current world is more dystopian than the one I created for SRMD.

Both your main protagonists from SRMD and Gutter Punch share traits that make them the underdogs. Do you see yourself in these characters?

When I write a protagonist I can’t help but include a bit of myself in them. Both Davlav and Sam are kind of outsiders, adrift from the world. Neither have much ambition or purpose and just kind of float about, seeing where they will end up. Much to the annoyance of people close to me, I am a lot like that. The main difference though is that when I put my mind to something, I can get things done whereas they are both completely useless. If I had to choose, I would probably say I am more like Davlav from SRMD. Davlav is my username on Lichess.

Comedy and satire is never far away from your writing. What comics/comedy has inspired you over the years?

I grew up on a healthy diet of surreal British comedy from the 80s and early 90s. The Young Ones, Red Dwarf, and Bottom being the main ones that probably shaped my sense of humour. A number of animated shows make me laugh too. Bojack Horseman is one of my favourites and I loved Ren & Stimpy when it came out. I am also a Spongebob Squarepants superfan and its precursor, Rocko’s Modern Life. RIP Stephen Hillenburg.

In terms of comedians, Stewart Lee springs to mind as someone I have found consistently funny over the years.

Are they any fiction writers who use humour that you admire?

I think Terry Pratchett is my earliest favourite author that used humour to amazing effect. I’ve read all his books but one, which I am saving for when I need a good laugh. Tom Robbins is another author I love – his style mixes humour and surrealism. Fierce Invalids Home from Hot Climates and Villa Incognito are two of his I thought were fantastic. Samuel Beckett has a marvellous sense of humour, dragging gems of comedy from the absurdity of life. I’m slowly working my way through his work. In terms of crime, Carl Hiaasen is an absolute delight to read too. Some fantastic comic writing, and an amazing ability to produce page turners time and again. There’s a fantasy author I like too, Joe Abercrombie. I look forward to reading everything he publishes. Joseph Heller is an obvious master of humour. Catch 22 and Something Happened are packed full of multifaceted humour.

If you could meet one of your characters who would it be and why?

I’m not sure I would like to meet any of my characters as most of them are unpleasant. From Gutter Punch, probably Sea-mouse as he would be good to go to the pub with.

Who would you cast as David Morgan OBE?

Probably that guy from Downton Abbey – Hugh Bonneville. He would have the gravitas and comic timing to play that role. He was hilarious in Twenty Twelve.

How did Gutter Punch’s plot originally come about?

It was mainly through a growing sense of anger at mainstream media. It’s just so hypocritical. The people commenting on celebrities, whether it was they’re behaviour or what they are wearing just feels wrong, as they are no better than the people being judged. Nothing is ever as binary as the media makes out. Everyone has problems. “Judge not lest ye be judged” would probably have been a better quotation for the first page but I went with something that amused me instead.

You self-published SRMD so you obviously have a good understanding of how the publishing process works. What made you choose Urban Pigs Press to represent your work?

I’m a fan. I loved the Parochial Pigs trilogy, and have been really impressed with the books you have published so far. I think my favourite has been Driver by Sebastian Vice, but I am currently reading Murderapolis at the moment and loving it. I feel a lot of imposter syndrome being included in that mix.

Your cover art is nothing short of utter brilliance. We very much appreciate the continuation in stand out covers. How many hours did it take for you to create it by hand?

I painted it over the course of about 2 weeks. I think there was about 8 hours of actual painting time involved, although twice more in terms of procrastination. I wanted a pulpy feel to the image, so I used Gouache, which I’ve never used before.

Name your top three evil dictators. Past or present.

Great question. I’ve always been partial to Caligula. He supposedly made his horse a senator and declared war on the sea. Great times. Pol Pot deserves a mention for the getting all the intellectuals to randomly dig in the mud, killing nearly 2 million people whilst trying to transform Cambodia into a classless agrarian society. I think King Leopold II though gets 1^st place for being arguably the worst, most evil dictators in history and not receiving enough recognition for this.

What is next for you?

Like most writers I imagine, I have way more ideas than I could ever hope to write in a lifetime. I’ve got a 250,000 word fantasy novel I’ve been working on for about 10 years now. I’m probably going to go back to that and actually finish it as it is nearly done (in terms of the first draft at least). Then there is a sort of sequel to SRMD I have planned out. It is set in the same world at least. I also have an idea for a series of who-dunnit style detective novels, including one poking fun at the art world.

There will be no imposter syndrome here, sir! We are big fans of your work and I have been since we first crossed paths. I can see why your comic style resonates with me so deeply now with a shared love of Bottom and the Young Ones. I did not realise that Rocko was the same creators as Spongebob! Makes a whole lot of sense.

I always think it’s a massive shame when evil dictators don’t get the recognition they deserve. Says a lot about the decline of our society. These days they just do boring things like nuke innocent people and grab ladies front bottoms. It’s just not the same!

Well, you know where we are. There’s always a home for your work in this farm yard of lit. As long as it’s in the realms of 100k words or under!

Thanks again for choosing us and for running such a brilliant call!

Gutter Punch

Sam Carter’s new job as a private investigator is going to get him killed. The Hollywood sex scandals and all-night partying might be exciting, but now the tabloid newspapers are after him, not to mention the deranged thugs. And that’s just his first week. Welcome to the world of the gutter press!

Read the first chapter here!

Chapter one

Sam Carter felt around his lower regions and began playing with his semi-erect penis, although a few moments of this and it was abandoned with the full knowledge it would prove a fruitless task. He could taste a mixture of vomit and cheap whiskey on his teeth and his stomach wasn’t particularly impressed by either. He did believe, however, that there was just as much chance of him messing himself as there was of him being sick and was frightened by the prospect of both. He eyed beside his bed a glass of water and drank thankfully.

Sam made a slow, zombie-like dawdle to the bathroom and then, feeling slightly better, made his way to the lounge. Curled up on the sofa with a suit jacket draped over him was a pale looking young lawyer by the name of Ford.

Sam squatted on Ford’s legs in a successful bid to get him to sit up. He fumbled around under the sofa, eventually finding a crushed packet of cigarettes. Sam lit one up and took a long drag.

‘What are you doing here?’ Sam said, a puzzled look on his face.

‘You don’t remember?’ Ford replied, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. ‘I had just finished a long case. A couple of us decided to go for a quick drink in the bar around the corner from the court. Didn’t expect to see you in there. You were a mess, kept saying you were celebrating something and trying to force alcohol into me. I ended up having to take you home before you embarrassed me any further.’

‘I was celebrating,’ Sam said, letting out a cloud of acrid smoke. ‘I got fired yesterday.’

As soon as Sam had started at the newsroom, he found it deeply unrewarding. His work life consisted mostly of following leads and compiling reports of all the unbearably dull stories no one else wanted to touch. If the news programme was going to be short a few minutes, then it was Sam’s job to sift through the local papers for some sort of fluff. Human interest stories, whatever that meant, the most recent one having been about Mr. and Mrs. Gordon’s cat, Sebastian, which curled up and went to sleep in the laundry basket, only to end up getting stuffed into the washing machine and whacked on spin cycle, and still somehow managing to survive. Sam had to interview the family and get some good footage of the cat. He had done several of these stories. Cats plastered into walls, trapped under floorboards, set in concrete, and miraculously they all seemed to survive. A cat lasting three quarters of an hour in a washing machine mixed up with detergents and semi-boiling water seemed unlikely. Sam had quickly pieced together in his mind the real series of events. Mrs. Gordon, on finding the saturated corpse of her daughter’s cat had held down a deathly scream. She showed it to her husband, holding it at arm’s length despite the fact it was quite clean. Mr. Gordon had immediately rushed out to the nearest animal shelter for a replacement, stopping on the way to throw the dead one out the window and into a ditch. Sam had considered exposing this fraud. It would simply take some last-minute changes before airtime. But he didn’t. What would be the point? It wouldn’t achieve anything, except for upsetting an eight-year-old girl and possibly some cats. Instead, he had half-heartedly noted down the story while the Gordons, eager to be appearing on television, helpfully dunked Sebastian Mark II in the kitchen sink and then stuffed the startled looking kitty into the laundry basket. A dramatic reconstruction.

Sam was almost relieved yesterday afternoon when the boss had called him into his office. Sexfiend for all intents and purposes was the man’s name. He was a short, fat, balding bastard with a dynamic personality. Sam had stood there in Sexfiend’s luxurious office, wincing at the ferocity of the glower he was being subjected to.

‘Do you think I am stupid?’ Sexfiend asked, almost as if he wanted an answer.

‘No sir,’ Sam said, trying to sound sincere.

‘Shut the fuck up,’ Sexfiend roared. ‘You may have gotten away with it for a long time, but no more. No fucking more you worthless piece of fucking shit.’

Sam knew exactly why Sexfiend was angry. He had expected to be “let go” a long while back but he had never been discovered. For about the last year, tiring of following stories and reporting what actually happened, Sam had begun just making things up. It had started quite small. Events minor celebrities supposedly attended. It later moved to made up politicians of non-existent countries dying in all manner of ways. Floods, executions, bear attacks and sometimes even natural causes.

‘I could have you killed,’ Sexfiend stated with a smile growing across his chubby face. ‘I should have you killed. God knows I’d like to. But instead, I am going to be kind. Clear your fucking desk and get out. But watch your back pal. I could have you killed so fast, you wouldn’t even know you were being killed.’

‘So, you really got fired?’ Ford said. ‘I knew you would, sooner or later. You were always turning up drunk because you’ve been hanging about with Sea-mouse too much. Your problem is you never take anything seriously’.

Sam began to switch off at this point. When Ford got going, he could berate people for hours. It was one of his character flaws.

Sam and Ford had been flatmates whilst they were at university. Ford was a conscientious law student that no one apart from Sam could tolerate. Sam on the other hand, spent his years at university in a drunken paradise. Occasionally mooching into lectures between bouts of heavy and sustained drinking with his oldest friend Sea-mouse. As soon as Ford had met Sea-mouse he had disapproved of the man. He stood for everything Ford disapproved of, and that in Ford’s mind was grounds for disapproval.

‘What are you going to do about work?’ Ford asked. ‘You ought to go job hunting as soon as possible.’

‘I don’t know,’ Sam answered. ‘I might take a couple of days off to rest before I start looking. I have a couple of contacts in the papers. I did a little bit of freelance for them. They’re only tabloids but I reckon I could get a job with one of them no problem. Or failing that, I think a couple of the investigators we’ve used in the past are hiring.’

Ford could barely believe his ears. How someone could take such a blasé attitude to a situation like this was beyond him.

‘Actually, thinking about it, I might leave it a couple of weeks.’