Film-maker, writer, fictional character and hip-hop connoisseur Cody James' novel, "The Dead Beat" is released by Eight Cuts Press today. I had the pleasure of emailing her about it. So, no introductory paragraph about how I found her sitting at the table at the dining room of the Hôtel Meurice with a tiny glass of absinthe or whatever.

MH: How did you write The Dead Beat? In a notebook? In one blast? At night? etc.

CJ: By hand, in a notebook, in bed with a five day fever. But, even I can't read my illegible handwriting, so it was a bitch to type out later on.

MH: What's your relationship with "The Dead Beat" like? I think I heard you say online something like "oh that book won't go away! I wrote it a decade ago"

CJ: Yeah, it's The Undead Beat. It's my first book – written a decade ago, now in its third edition. It.Just.Won't.Die

MH: Does it feel like a time capsule or something you could write today?

CJ: No, I don't think I could ever write it again – and that's part of what makes it so important to me. I'll never be that person again, so to have been able to document it, to say what I had to say about the '90s, means so fucking much.

MH: How much of what you write is out there for people to read. Almost all? 10%?

CJ: Only about 5% of what I write is out there. The rest is written in the blood and bound with the skin of old whores, stored in a suitably eldritch basement.

MH: Will you ever write another novel?

CJ: Muse-willing, yes. It takes me ages to get around to writing a novel, even though I can't write anything over 100 pages.

MH: Since you are an all-round talent and you already have two novels under your belt, why do another one?

CJ: I don't know. My latest pieces cry out for a more multimedia approach, and film is something I love to work with. But, if the calling comes for a novel, from those weird spaces where inspiration springs, then that's what I'll do. It'll probably take me another ten years, though.

MH: Can The Dead Beat save a life, or conversely kill a person? If so, whom?

CJ: The first review I ever got for The Dead Beat said, "I read a draft of it while waiting for a bus in Newark at 4 am, and I killed myself." But, you know, he didn't really kill himself. He probably just got on the bus and fell asleep.

MH: Prevailing wisdom seems to be that the independent writer has to be a performer now. What do you think about that?

CJ: I don't know what I think about that, to be honest. I love the idea of taking literature and putting it into a gigging environment, but conversely, I don't like the idea of "prevailing wisdom" about anything whatsoever. I just quote, "Do what thou wilt."

MH: Tell me as much as you can about you and the Geto Boys.

CJ: Ahh, the Geto Boys. I LOVE THE GETO BOYS. I remember this kid I knew giving me his much-copied cassette when we were in high school. We both sat at the front of the school bus, to avoid the bullying by being near to the driver. The front of the bus was Nerd Central. I think we were 14 years old. Anyway, the wheezing, bespectacled scrawny kids at the front, we used to trade cassettes of the most offensive stuff possible. But, once we found the Geto Boys, there was no need to search anymore. Perfection was achieved. Mind of a Lunatic was the first song I ever heard, and I fell in love with The Geto Boys.

MH: I didn't have even a moment's doubt that Mind of a Lunatic would be your favorite. Do you think the Geto Boys 'offensive' lyrics had 'literary' merit?

CJ: I'm really glad you asked that, because my answer is ABSOLUTELY YES. They had more literary merit than most books do, because, much like NWA's Straight Outta Compton record, it was a blistering cry from a culture that was largely ignored by the mainstream.

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