I Was A Punk Before You Were A Punk

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Preamble:

Vancouver writer Chris Walter is well-known for his prolific work; with 11 books in eight years his stories range in characters from the squeegee kids of "Boozecan," to his own personal history as a punk and drug addict in a trilogy that starts with "I Was A Punk Before You Were A Punk" and ends with "I'm On The Guest List." Walter can often be spotted reading excerpts at his book launches/punk rock shows, his six-feet plus, heavily tattooed frame is an imposing figure and unlikely look for someone who spends the better part of each day in front of the computer crafting hilarious and poignant stories through his own publishing company, Gofuckyerself Press. Here he tells his story of how he journeyed through a long-time drug addiction to become a writer with an addiction to words.

Body:

This is going to sound very melodramatic, but I started writing because I thought I was going to die and I wanted to leave something behind. I'd OD'd on heroin twice in 1998, so I wrote Beer on the irregular paper that my girlfriend stole from work. I didn't have a typewriter or computer so I wrote it longhand and sent it to my mom in Winnipeg, and she typed it out and sent it back. Somehow, my girlfriend and I printed the thing and we fashioned it into a crude book with ring-coil binding. At first, the books were 81/2 X 11 on one side of paper because we didn't know how to put text on both sides of the page.

We were like cavemen carving tablets out of stone. I made the covers myself. They were so ugly. I remember selling my first copy to a kid at China Creek Skate Park. I'd given away and sold a few copies to friends, but that was my first actual sale. It was weird - an amazing feeling to have a stranger buy something I wrote. It's very addictive. For an addict like me there was no turning back.

My girlfriend bought me a hot laptop for a hundred dollars. The color was broken and everything was black and white, but I only needed the word processor. It was a big step up from sending the handwritten pages to my mom. I was writing when I could, but the laptop would be at the dope dealer's as collateral, and then I'd get it back and go on another binge. Then the dealer would get my laptop again. Things got worse. I found myself shooting dope in a hotel room on the Downtown Eastside with no place to live, homeless.

My girlfriend had kicked me out because I was doing drugs when I was supposed to be watching our five-month old son. I thought writers were supposed to live that way, but I was getting high when I should have been writing. When I wasn't doing drugs, I was drinking my face off. Finally, in 2001, halfway through Mosquitoes and Whisky, I cleaned up and five months later, I moved back in with my girlfriend and our baby. That was very scary because I was only five months clean and we had no money. I was worried that I was going to relapse and worried about being a father. I thought my life was over, but my old life sucked so bad that it didn't really matter. It was a scary time.

I worried that I wouldn't be able to write if I cleaned up. You know, I thought that the drugs and alcohol fueled my creativity much the same way as they did for Bukowski or Hunter S. Thompson. Mostly it was just an excuse to use drugs, but a part of me genuinely believed that. To my surprise, when I did get clean, I found that it was actually easier to write. My thoughts were clearer and I didn't have to get my laptop back from the dope dealer. My productivity and focus went way up, and instead of doing drugs, I wrote for 16 hours a day. Addicts don't do anything in moderation.

I can't write spy novels, I don't know anything about that. I'm not interested in mysteries, magic, romance, new age, "modern fiction" or any of that crap. The only thing I'm interested in is junkies, whores, drunks and punks. For me, those are the most interesting people. It just seemed obvious because it was right in front of me and I didn't have to make anything up. I don't want to write about lawyers or yuppies or anything like that. Stable people, people with money, are boring.

The Downtown Eastside holds a dark fascination for me. I never lived there, I never belonged there, but it was this place that I would go. I mean, I could get drugs wherever, but I liked to go there for some reason. The whole place is about drugs, and I could totally submerge myself in the subculture. I got into that lifestyle because I was bored. That's the long and short of it, really.

As a kid, I was bored and afraid. I never felt that I was a part of this world. I felt like an outsider, so I took drugs with other outsiders. The drug subculture, next to punk rock, was the only place I ever felt that I belonged. Once I got in it was really hard to get out. Drugs, that is. I still love punk rock. Punk saved my ass. If I hadn't been able to vent my anger as a youth, I'd be dead for sure.

I know that other addicts read my books because they disappear from the Carnegie Library whenever I donate them. Through my writing, I want people to realize that homeless people, drunks, junkies and punks are not just vile, wretched creatures, but that they're human like everyone else, with hopes and aspirations and feelings. There aren't enough stories about real people. For me, it's all about realism. The people on the Downtown Eastside, well sh*t, they could easily be me.

Everyone thinks, "Oh, that couldn't happen to me, they're just weak. I'm not like that." But it can happen. Maybe not to you, but to your brother or your mother... The people on the Downtown Eastside have families who worry about them and care about them. Some make it out, but the odds are bad. Hell, the odds are terrible, but not impossible. You just have to keep trying if you want to get out.

The first time I felt that I was getting my sh*t together was when I received my first cake. In NA (Narcotics Anonymous), you get a cake for every year you stay clean. I couldn't believe that I'd been clean for a whole year. But yeah, you get a cake, and your new friends are there. They all clap. But then I realized that maybe, just maybe, I could do this-" The NA program was a big help, but so was my family and the writing. The combination of those things made it possible for me to change my life. I had to choose.

Gofuckyerself Press came about when I had two books that I thought were going to be published, but then at the last minute, they were dropped. I was frustrated and decided to go it alone. I thought, "I can do this myself and get more than the seven per cent being offered." Instead of seven per cent, I'd get a hundred per cent. I liked those numbers better. I also liked the autonomy, the control over the finished product.

If there's anything wrong with a book, I have only myself to blame. At first, I was hoping a large publisher would come and offer me millions of dollars, but now this is my livelihood and I'm happy where I am. I like riding through rainstorms to proof covers. I love delivering books during blizzards. I'm happy to mail books to Halifax and wait six months for a cheque. I didn't know that I had such a strong work ethic, but if you're doing something you like doing it doesn't really feel like work.

I thought I'd be dead by now, I really did. I love being a dad, even though I thought I'd hate it When I lost my girlfriend and my son, I realized how important they were to me. I also love the freedom of being clean. I get to decide how I want to live my life. No way would I write an ending like this. If my life was a book, I'd hate the way it turned out. But who knows, my life isn't over yet. Maybe I'll get stabbed by a dope sick junkie. Now that would be a good ending. I love irony.

To learn more about Chris Walter, go to:
www.punkbooks.com [1]

Pullquote:

My productivity and focus went way up, and instead of doing drugs, I wrote for 16 hours a day. Addicts don't do anything in moderation.