RR Interview: Pete Peterson
Rabbit Room readers–as well as Pete’s mother–will know that Andrew isn’t the only creative Peterson around these parts. Our beloved Pete Peterson–Andrew’s brother–is about to publish his first book entitled The Fiddler’s Gun. It’s the first in a two-part series, a Revolutionary War tale that’s “not a children’s story,” as Peterson explains.
Here in our latest Rabbit Room interview, we go inside the independent publishing process, the story line of The Fiddler’s Gun, and the hidden classic known as Burger Wars.
Rabbit Room: What’s the timeline on the book’s release?
Pete Peterson: The official release date is December 1st, 2009. I’ll be shipping out orders to my patrons as soon as I receive the books from the printer, which should be a bit sooner.
RR: Let’s start with the basics of The Fiddler’s Gun. Can you tell us the genesis of the idea?
Pete: About 10 years ago I made a bunch of treasure chests, filled them with presents, and buried them on my parents’ farm. Then I hand drew maps for everyone and sent them on a treasure hunt to dig up their presents on Christmas morning. It was a blast.
During the process of creating that experience I decided to make a grave marker to use as a landmark on one of the maps. I came up with a name that I thought had the right flavor and carved it into the marker, but when I finished I realized I’d spelled it wrong. I meant to write “Phineas Button” and instead wrote “Phinea Button.” I liked the way that dropping the “s” made the name feminine and that was the beginning. As I finished the maps and buried the chests I kept wondering who Phinea Button might have been and how she came to be buried here and what stories she might have to tell. The Fiddler’s Gun is the result of that happy misspelling.
I started writing the book on New Year’s Day and by the end of that year I knew Fin’s story. She was an orphan from outside of Savannah, Georgia that grew up to fight in the American Revolution and even became the captain of a privateer ship (some would say a pirate if folklore is to be believed). It’s funny because I’ve never had any particular interest in the Revolutionary War but I found myself writing a novel about it, not because it was the story and setting that I chose but because it’s the story that chose me. I know that sounds like some kind of writer’s cliché but it really is the most accurate way to describe the experience.
RR: Has that happened to you ever before–this idea of the story grabbing you?
Pete: I guess, now that I think about it, it’s not the first time. I’ve always had a sort of cinema running in my head, and in the past I’ve written down notes and ideas but but then never really followed through on them or devoted the time to them that they might have deserved. So yes, stories do come to me but they usually just hang around for a few days and run off. This was the first time I decided to chase it down and catch it.
Which is probably a good thing because half the ideas I have are preposterous. I once had what I thought was this brilliant idea for a story about a guy that was being hunted by McDonald’s assassins because he’d invented the perfect burger and refused to sell out to them. I’m really glad I didn’t spend eight years working on that one. It was called Burger Wars...of course. Ugh.
RR: I think there’s a market for that, although I hear it’s not a glamorous one. Do you have plans to take this story–The Fiddler’s Gun–even further? Or is this a stand alone?
Pete: This is the first of two books in the Fin’s Revolution story line. I originally envisioned it as a single book but I got to a point in the writing when I realized that for length, thematic, and dramatic reasons, that it made sense to split it. This first book is about getting lost, the second, which is about half-written, is about finding your way home.
RR: How do you handle hopes and expectations when it comes to the self-publishing aspect?
Pete: I don’t really like the term self-publishing. It comes with a lot of baggage and it gives the impression that the book was created in a sort of vacuum, which definitely isn’t the case. I think it’s more accurate to call what I’m doing “independent publishing”. To make a music analogy, I think of independent publishing in the same way that I think of independent music, or film for that matter. It might be made without the help of a big record contract but there is still every possibility that the quality of the work is just as high, if not higher. Self-publishing on the other hand carries a connotation similar to that of a record made by a guy in his bedroom on an old four-track with little outside input, advice, or polish and we all know how badly those usually turn out.
When I decided to go the independent route, I built the idea around selling a thousand copies. I thought that if I could do that, and break even financially, I’d be able to call it a success. I expect that making that happen is going to be a lot of work and, because I don’t have the option of distribution to chain bookstores, I expect that it’ll take quite some time to meet that goal. I’m excited about it, though, and I’m in it for the long haul.
My hopes, on the other hand, are obviously that it will generate some word of mouth, and eventually begin to sell itself. I’m not naive enough to sit back and wait for that unlikely scenario to happen, though.
RR: When you say you’re in it for the long haul, have you thought about what you will have to do to sustain your own spirit and drive?
Pete: That’s a great question. I think there’s a perception by a lot of people that a novel is something that you write in a couple of months and then hand over to an editor and a few months later a book magically appears. That might be the way it works in my dreams, but the reality is that it’s a process that is in itself years-long before anyone ever even gets to hold the book in their hands.
At the beginning of that process I struggled a lot with calling myself a writer, thinking that it was a title I couldn’t claim until I’d reached some hidden benchmark, like selling a million copies. But over the years, through the edits, and rewrites, and searching for a publisher, and all the work and emotional capital I’ve spent on it, I’ve learned that writing, storytelling, is just as much a part of who I am as my own name and I’ve every right to call myself a writer after all. Why? Because it’s what I do, it’s what I long to do, and it’s what I’ve done all my life without realizing it.
So when I say I’m in it for the long haul, what I mean is that I’m comfortable wearing the writer’s mantle and the burden that comes with it is one I’m ready to carry. I’ve reached the point in my understanding of myself that I’m ready to fail, and being ready and willing to fail is, I think, the first step on the road to being successful. A lot of people never write, or sing, or create art because they are afraid of failure, they’re afraid others won’t like what they’ve created and so they live their whole lives wishing they could create something as beautiful or meaningful as those people they admire for doing so, when the truth is that those people that they so admire probably started off in mediocrity at best and failure at worst.
I hope The Fiddler’s Gun is a wild success, but I’ve come to my own terms with it. People with either like it or they won’t, and either way, I’m still a writer, and I’ll go on creating stories, and hopefully some of them will rise above mediocrity and maybe in time, one or two of them will even be found beautiful by someone.
RR: Speaking of people who won’t like it, you’ve said that this is not something for children, correct?
Pete: That’s correct. I think there is some misconception out there that because Andrew’s books are aimed at children that mine are too and that’s not the case. I don’t mean to give the impression that the story is full of things that aren’t fit for kids, but it definitely does follow characters into some dark places physically, emotionally, and spiritually.
The Revolutionary War is a big part of the book so death and violence are things the characters face and have to find ways to deal with. I’d say it’s a book that a parent should probably read first if they have children younger than 13 or 14. If your child isn’t ready to read The Red Badge of Courage or The Lord of the Rings, then they might not be ready for The Fiddler’s Gun.
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For those interested in being a patron for Pete’s book, check out the following post. And don’t forget to check out the website for The Fiddler’s Gun here.
A.S. Peterson has crafted a work of compelling historical fiction which begs the question, “Can this really be a debut novel?” With dogged fidelity, Peterson captures the spirit, manners, and social conditions present during the American Revolutionary War. We meet colorful, credible characters who navigate the high seas of life and love, dependence and independence, war and peace, truth and consequence, and despite forays into dark places, The Fiddler’s Gun is beautiful, lyrical, and redemptive.
Walt Wangerin, Jr. strikes again.
Janner Igiby lives in Glipwood, a nothing little village in the land of Skree, on the edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness. Manhood is on the horizon, but Janner finds it hard to feel much hope for the future. Skree is ruled by foreign oppressors, snake men called the Fangs of Dang, servants of a shadowy emperor named Gnag the Nameless. The Skreeans are weak and weaponless. They’re even tool-less. Any Skreean who needs to use a hoe has to borrow one from the Fangs (and fill out the requisite paperwork). And from time to time, the Black Carriage arrives in Glipwood to carry young Skreeans toward an unknown fate across the Dark Sea.
I am not a fan of Civil War literature; in fact, I have always thought of it as one of those weird sub-genres for obsessive types. They’re almost like Trekkies with their re-enactments and maniacal devotion to detail. It’s just not my thing (although I’m secretly jealous that they get to dress up and shoot cannons).
A Randall Goodgame song is like a great independent movie. Characters deliver lines like they were lifted from a break room, a truck stop, or a downtown diner. Seemingly incongruent scenes are juxtaposed and plot isn’t obvious; in fact, narrative–a good story–is often more evident than linear plot lines. An indie movie, like a Randall Goodgame song, seems to tell itself. Rather than being rudely yanked by a chain through a sequence of contrived events, with a Randall Goodgame song, I have the sense that I’m being allowed a willing, but vicarious sneak peak into the real lives of his real characters.
Sara Groves irritates me just a little bit. With each album she makes, she moves from strength to strength and is always raising the bar with the quality, depth, and lyrical ambition of her work. And as a fellow artist, that’s just a little irritating since it means the rest of us are going to have to work harder if we hope to keep up.
I am outside on my front porch. The yellowed leaves are methodically falling from the black walnut in the yard, my breath is chalky visible in the recent cold snap, and lately I have been exploring the unpleasant nuances of the dark night of a soul - my own, to be exact. It is a strange passion we live out on this over-glorified orb of rock hurtling through space at some rate that I’m sure would astound me were I to know what it was. It is an odd series of days, I am realizing, when you question your own faith more than you question your own doubt. And, indeed, it is these nagging questions which have prompted me to share my thoughts on Andrew Peterson’s 2003 album, Love and Thunder.
11-year old Reuben Land, a character in the 2001 book Peace Like a River, provides narration that is clear-eyed and insightful, yet retains the magic, wonder, and innocence of youth. I found it easy to entrust my imagination to the author’s clever method of telling the story through the sensibilities of a pre-teen boy. An author with lesser skill would have either made the boy too smart-alecky for his own good or impossibly cute.
I just finished a book that upon closing it, I felt like it finished me in a sense. A quiet meditative book that reached down and stirred the deep waters in me. It’s Marilynne Robinson’s 2005 Pulitzer prize winner Gilead, given to me by my friend Andrew Peterson.
Eric Peters’s body of work addresses a diverse range of topics, but hope is a recurring theme that gently percolates in the midst of it all. And yet, somewhere between the 2001 masterpiece Land of the Living, and Scarce, the flavor of hope that Peters’s work emits has evolved closer to a tone that is more resolute than what came before. And though the complexion of hope has a broad range, the lyrics from Scarce–while intermittently contrite and timorous as in previous efforts, are now strengthened and bolstered by roots that have grown deeper, radiating an underlying grit and security.
Having read The Great Divorce many times over the years, I’ve found this classic from the great C.S. Lewis to be full of startling clarity and depth on the differences between Heaven and Hell. The only thing both have in common is that both begin in the human will; we can either let Heaven enter us and rule in us to blossom into love and goodness, or allow Hell to infect and reign in our hearts by the daily refusal to submit to Heaven.
Even if you haven’t heard Room to Breathe, its still likely you’ve heard Andy Gullahorn. He’s what I’d call a heavy lifter by trade. He writes lyrics, plays guitar, arranges vocals and adds production help to the work of artists like Jill Phillips and Andrew Peterson.
Allow me to preface this by telling you that I am a great despiser of gushing reviews. I’d much rather write (or read) a scathing dismemberment of the latest Brett Ratner film or Terry Goodkind book than suffer through four hundred words of overblown hyperbole about even the best of things. But when asked to write some thoughts on Frederick Buechner’s Godric, no amount of distaste for high praise was able to intervene. I hope you’ll take what I say with the understanding that I do not say it readily or lightly.
That cover design is almost impossibly cool. I can’t wait to read this!
Good interview Matt. You asked some good questions! Thanks.
Pete, I really like what you had to say about one’s creativity: “A lot of people never write, or sing, or create art because they are afraid of failure, they’re afraid others won’t like what they’ve created and so they live their whole lives wishing they could create something as beautiful or meaningful as those people they admire for doing so. . .” I think that in many societies, but most especially in our society, there is way too much pressure put on us to perform well, to be beautiful, or artistic, or whatever we do, to do it very well. . . according to someone else’s judgement, but also according to our own judgement. It takes so long to figure out that we are gifted in certain areas, and no matter what our gift may look like to others, when we use it in the way we’re meant to use it, it’s the best thing ever.
I was given a certain gift, and I always used that gift in a certain way. Then, one day that gift was severely altered in a way that made me feel unacceptable, repulsive, and most assuredly unloved. The thing was that it was MY judgement on myself. I am the one who decided I was repulsive, unacceptable, even hideous. I struggled long and hard with the sheer grief of what had happened, and in my brokenness, I was brought to the other side of it by the loving, merciful, and powerful hand of God. He showed me that even though that gift had been altered, I was still, and always would be what that gift evoked from the depths of who I am. And so, I have begun to use that gift again. Is it a little different now? Yes. Is it just as “good” as it was? Yes, because it’s coming from the same place it’s always come from, and I’ve stopped judging myself. I reached the point of “being ready to fail”.
What I’m trying to say is that I was bound up in that “fear of failure” thing. Was it self-imposed? Yes, but it was also fed by the almost constant insinuation that we have to be the best, the most acceptable, the “shiniest penny in the piggy bank”.
I don’t think we encourage each other near enough in our society, and I have a sneaking suspicion fear is behind that, too. Stupid fear!
Thanks again Matt and Pete for a good interview, and some good and wise words.
What a great idea for a book. I liked the treasure chest story a lot. Must have taken time to do it and brought great pleasure to those who found a chest for their very own. Hope you sell a million. Hope to buy it soon. Sounds like a rousing story. God bless!
When it comes to leaving the fear behind, I have not yet let go. That part of my mind has a huge boogy-man lurking. Silly, is it not? The failure thing so often rules our lives and keeps up from sharing our gifts. It’s important to realize just where that is coming from. Now I just need to, well……write.
Thank you for your inspriation, Pete and for your thoughtful questions, Matt.
A very enjoyable interview! Great questions. Great answers.
And great explanation of indie publishing. It’s odd to me that indie music and movies are familiar and respected, while indie books (i.e. self-published) have a lesser reputation. I’d love to see the originality of indie artistry enter the publishing world. It seems that with “Fiddler’s Gun” you got to hand-pick your designers/illustrators/editors so that there was a creative integrity to the whole project. To work with artistic peers instead of a marketing team at a big publishing company means a whole different kind of creative excellence. Oddly enough, sounds like being an independent publisher/writer means you get to be more deeply involved in artistic community.
Oh, and the whole treasure chest and maps and tombstone adventure- wondrous. What a Christmas present.
Hey Pete, I think Michael Crichton tried to rip off the cover design from The Fiddler’s Gun for his latest book. Check it out.
Fiddler’s Gun is far superior, but they did strike me a similar.
I confess, I am actually Michael Crichton. I faked my death and stole my own basic idea for the cover.
Also, bah!