WRITERS TELL ALL
Matthew Turbeville: As you know from my stalking tweets, messages, etc, I am a big fan. Before we get into your amazing new novel Miraculum, can you talk about your journey into writing before this book? What was it like working toward getting published?
Steph Post: It was just that: work. I sort of started at the bottom and just clawed my way up, teaching myself as I went along and learning from others. I had always wanted to ‘be a writer,’ but it took a conscious decision and commitment to take the first step, to write the first novel. That was about six years ago- I’ve written a novel a year ever since I made that promise to myself to give writing my all, not as a hobby, but as a career. I can be very determined when I want to be and once I made that promise, there was no going back. I started with a small book (A Tree Born Crooked) and a small publisher and have tried to grow as much as possible with each new book and stage of my publishing journey.
MT: Were you always a reader? Always a writer? What books, crime or otherwise, had the most influence on you during your formative years, and what books do you read now, as well as authors, and what authors and books do you turn to now if you get stuck or need inspiration?
SP: I’ve always been a reader. I’ve been devouring books since before I can remember. I think in many ways, I was always a writer, though I didn’t quite realize it until I was in my teens. I was always a storyteller—I created these complex dramas and worlds in my head—but in sixth grade my English teacher had us write a short story (I absolutely remember this, it had to be about a firecracker—that was the topic) and it was the first time I put two-and-two together and realized that everything I had been carrying around in my head could be put down on paper. That what I was doing with all my complicated daydreams and self-storytelling was actually the same thing authors were doing with all the books I loved. It sounds so silly now, but that firecracker story really was a bolt for me.
The only crime novel I read as a kid/teen was David Eddings’ High Hunt, which is definitely not a kid-appropriate book. I learned the most incredible curse words from that book, which I was smart enough not to share with anyone at the time. I can’t even count the amount of times I read High Hunt as a teen. It’s a pretty unknown novel, but I think anyone could read it and see its imprint on A Tree Born Crooked, Lightwood and Walk in the Fire. Other novels that clearly sparked something in me during those years are Michael Ondatje’s The English Patient and Sherri Reynolds’ The Rapture of Cannan. I think with all three books, they showed me how to push the boundaries of what was expected of a writer. Of how storytelling had to be grounded in authenticity to work, even at its most fantastical.
As for right now, I read everything. I wouldn’t say there’s anyone one author or group of authors I ever turn to, but I know that I glean inspiration from every book I read. Sometimes, it’s even negative inspiration, a lesson in what not to do. I’m a complete scavenger—picking up bits and pieces and storing them in my subconscious for another day.
MT: You write a book, you think This is great or maybe This is good or even more often for writers I wish I typed everything by typewriter or wrote by hand so I could burn every copy and forget this.What’s next for you as a writer? What is your rewriting, revising, and editing processes like?
SP: I’m currently in the beginning stages of my latest novel, so soon I’ll be diving under a rock and staying there for the next nine months or so. I am always working on a book, always at one stage or another, and there are very clear, defined cycles I go through. A lot of daydreaming to start, just letting ideas crash into another and spiral around one another to see what happens. This usually takes place during the back half of writing another novel. Then research, planning, some outlining, at least three drafts. I have a clear process that works best for me and though I’m always changing some things up— I’m always learning from what worked or didn’t in the previous novel—having this ‘schedule’ of sorts really helps to keep me going.
MT: You have a really strong background in noir, crime, mystery—whatever genre or subgenre you want to group yourself and your work in. What made you decide to take a leap toward Miraculum, a miraculous book that is both at times a stretch but also often similar to your previous writings. Can you talk about this change from one type of book to another? How did your agent, your editor(s), publicist, publishers feel about everything?
SP: I have a strong background in crime fiction, yes, but I always maintain that I’m an accidental crime writer. I actually wrote Miraculum after writing Lightwood, but before Lightwood was picked up by Polis Books. So, at the time of writing, I had no idea that I would ever be following the crime writer path with a Southern crime trilogy. I think the crime novels are closer to my reality, my upbringing, where I live, etc., and Miraculum is closer to my inner world, what I love and what most sparks my imagination. They’re two sides to me, but I’ve always been a walking dichotomy.
Fortunately, Jason Pinter at Polis Books was extremely supportive of publishing a novel that veers off the beaten path. Miraculum defies a lot of a lot of genre boxes and I think in general there was some worry, by everyone, of how Miraculum was going to ‘fit’ in the book world. Much like what I’ve done myself, I think Miraculum is carving out its own niche for itself.
MT: You’ve created an incredibly strong heroine in snake-charmer Ruby, a woman who works at a carnival—the book has, at first, a very Carnivalefeel, only you leave feeling more completed and fulfilled, and you have a badass heroine to top it all off. Can you talk about your influences for this book, how this character, Ruby, came into being, and how many drafts of this novel you wrote before you came to the copy we are reading and thoroughly enjoying today?
SP: I actually wrote a very early draft of this novel as my master’s thesis for UNCW in the Liberal Studies Program. Different characters, different storyline, different title and presmise but I was still writing a novel about a traveling carnival. HBO’s Carnivale was a huge influence on that book. I loved that show so much. It got under my skin and I carried around those splinters for years. Fast forward five or so years later, I began to work on Miraculum. I still wanted to write about a carnival, I just couldn’t seem to let it go. But I didn’t want to be influenced by that early work either. I’ve never gone back and read it, but it definitely was a starting point for me.
Once I set out to write Miraculum—the story we have now—that was it.
MT: There’s this magical element in Miraculumthat comes out stronger and stronger as the book progresses. In this area of sexism and misogyny, plus this disbelief in both female and male rape victims (sorry, I have to point out how crazy our country is right now with this whole Bohemian Rhapsodything), and I wonder what you think Ruby’s natural—and other—powers are?
SP: Aside from the supernatural elements that wrap around Ruby and her story, I think Ruby has a tremendous amount of innate power and the will and desire to use it, as well. One of the reasons I love Ruby so much is that, yes, she’s jaded and been through hell when we first meet her, but she has just a tremendous amount of willpower and self-worth. Despite all of the limitations in her world, caused by her appearance and past, she just keeps fighting. There’s also a rawness about her, and even a vulnerability, and her power comes from that as well. She refuses to take the kicks lying down, no matter how much it hurts, and I so love that about her.
MT: What was your favorite part about writing this book and your least favorite part? And, speaking honestly, if you had to rewrite or just cut a part of the book—or, the reverse, add a major part—would you do anything?
SP: My favorite part was definitely writing in Daniel’s voice. His monologues just came out like falling water and I loved being in his head for this writing periods. My least favorite was the frustration I experienced. I wanted to tell this amazing story, but I didn’t have all the tools when I started out. I had to teach myself about the importance of research and of planning, of building a complete, complex world for the characters to run around in. It was a learning curve, for sure, but an invaluable one.
And now? So, I’ve written two books since Miraculum and grown so much as a writer. If I had to go back and rewrite the book, the story would be the same, but I think it would be filled out a little more. The book I’m working on now is stylistically in the same vein as Miraculum, compared to me crime novels, and I’m taking everything I wished I had done in Miraculum and being sure to include it now.
MT: The book is both a mystery and a fantasy novel. But it’s a lot more than that, one of my favorite being a sort of feminist epic. How hard was it getting all of these different aspects of genre to work in the novel? Did this come naturally, or was it something you had to work at? What do you advise to writers of transgeneric fiction?
SP: Fortunately, when I was writing Miraculum, it was so early in my literary career that I wasn’t thinking about genre at all. It just wasn’t on my radar. I just had a story to tell and along the way I discovered the best way to tell it. I think that’s the very simple key right there: just tell (write) a good story, the one only you can tell, the way only you can tell it. Genre is something to worry about once the book is complete. I don’t think it works to think about it too hard beforehand.
MT: There’s also this element of horror. What are your favorite horror novels—and also, especially, horror movies—that influenced the book? Also, there seems (at least to me) to be a special naming to each character, something that corresponds with who they are, who they are supposed to be, and sadly for some who they could have been. I know Toni Morrison, for example, gives a lot of thought into the names of her characters. Do you do the same?
SP: Ok, so I’m actually a weenie when it comes to most horror films. I love some horror—the kind that carries with it a deep sense of mystery, for example—but I’m not into slasher films or torture porn, I don’t really like horror films that just give it all away to try to scare the viewer as much as possible. The best, and scariest, situations are the ones where so much is held back. It’s what you Don’t see that terrifies you. As far as influencing Miraculum, Bran Stoker’s Dracula was a big one, of course. Books and short stories by Stephen King, Ray Bradbury, Robert Chambers. Even novels like Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca and the Ripley books by Patricia Highsmith. Anxiety-producing horror. As far as films go, King’s Rose Red (a underappreciated mini-series) and The Village are the first that come to mind.
And yes, most of the names in Miraculum, are well thought-out with special significances attached, even if they are only personal. Daniel’s last name, Revont, for example, relates to the Finnish word “revontolet” which refers to the Northern Lights, also called “fox fires.” Daniel is a trickster, a character type usually associated with foxes. Foxes are also my favorite animals and my spirit animal, so his name is a nod to me as well.
MT: Speaking of horror, what are the things that scare you most? And while we are talking fear, we live in a time where book to book, an author’s career can depend on any amount of success. There are authors who lose careers for having really horrible social media personalities. What is the scariest thing for you about putting a book out into the world for you?
SP: Hmmm… there are lots of things I don’t like (spiders, heights, crowds, large groups of small things, Wal-Mart, sponges, ok, I have some weird phobias….), but I’m not sure what scares me the most. That’s a great question. I think I would be truly terrified if I didn’t have a creative project to work on. I’m always at least one book ahead in my mind. If I had nothing, if I had to face that emptiness, that void, damn, that would scare the shit out of me. As far as fear with my books? It’s been a little nerve-wracking to put myself out there, just as an author personality. To engage with readers, to be open and let them in to my world. I’m actually a very private person—I love being alone—but it probably doesn’t seem like it from my constant Instagram posts.
MT: This book is, on some levels, a history, and a story of freaks—much like the iconic movie Freaks. How much research did you do into carnivals, and how they worked? Being a work, in part, of historic fiction, how did you approach research? Are you a big researcher for novels?
SP: For a novel like Miraculum, research is a huge part of the writing process. I do it in the beginning to build the bones of the world and then research throughout and at each drafting stage. I read a lot of books and watched documentaries, trying to learn as much as I could to back up the story I had to tell.
MT: There’s a love story here, too. In noir, and in any other genre you write, what importance do you put into love and romance? When you write, an examine a major part of someone’s life, and also possibly someone’s whole life, what do you feel you learn about love, heartbreak, moving on, and all the aspects of relationships?
SP: Oh wow, that last part is a pretty complex question. I like romance in novels, as long as its authentic and most especially if its complicated. I don’t think I’ve ever tried to force romance into a novel, though. I just have characters and, like most people, they love or have loved or want to love, and so it goes from there. And when you write these characters, when you live in their skin for months on end, I’d say you do learn from their experiences, from what you put them through. In some ways, having all these fictional points of view have helped me to try to see situations, of all kids, from myriad points of view. I think also, when you can see the scope of a characters life, even if you’re only writing a small slice of it, you begin to see the enormity of life in general. That so many different types of love can exist, on so many different levels, and there’s room and space for all of them.
MP: In crime, we often have the femme fatale and the disposable man, the man who can be killed off or conned. It seems that—not exactly, but in some ways—you have reversed the elements in this book. What were the main themes you wanted to establish, and what were the main messages you wanted to get across to your readers?
SP: One of the biggest themes running through Miraculum relates to this exactly: turning things upside down. Exploring the opposite of what is expected. This goes along with the topsy-turvy nature of carnivals and the history behind it, of fools and misrule, but it also relates to the characters in the book as well. Both Ruby and Daniel play around with personal gender roles and expression and with societies’ expectations of their gender. Most importantly, though, the characters are true to themselves, even though it might take us a while to see that side of Daniel. I hope that message comes through as well: the power in being yourself, in mining who you are and what you have to offer the world. We get that message a lot in children’s literature, but I think adults need it as well.
MT: Were there any other careers you ever considered prior to becoming a well-known writer? Most importantly, for the desperately struggling writers out there, what were the pit stops in your writing career? Where did you finally decide to buckle down and be a really great writer, and were there any other roadblocks in the way?
SP: Well, I always wanted to be a rockstar, but I can’t sing. I have no musical talent whatsoever, so that dream disappeared pretty quickly. I was and still am (to some degree) a high school teacher. I think new writers need to be aware that even well-known writers are people beyond their writing careers. They’re teachers and bartenders and firefighters and parents. They Work. And that work should be as honored and respected as the literary awards they may one day garner.
As for me, I’ve hit every roadblock along the way and, as I typical do, I just hit the gas and pretended I couldn’t see them. The path of becoming a successful author isn’t easy. I’m still very much on it. I’m just too damn stubborn to give up.
MT: In a way, it doesn’t seem like such a crazy transition to the different genres you’ve composed Miraculum of. Just like in this novel, crime—from its very heyday—seems to be composed of myth. The indestructible man. The femme fatale. There are so many different stereotypes that have lasted generations thanks to Chandler and his contemporaries. What stereotypes in your former writing, and in this novel, have you hoped to dismantle?
SP: I love mythology, if you can’t tell from Miraculum, and I love archetypes. But some stereotypes in current fiction just make my skin crawl. In some aspects of popular culture—fiction, film, television—we’ve devolved into stereotypes that to me just smack of laziness with the writing. The femme fatale, for example. This tough, sexy woman who is only tough and sexy in her interactions with the main male character. She’s a ballbuster, but then she’s tamed by the male lead and all is right with the world again. She’s just radical enough to be a fantasy object, but not complex enough to resemble a real woman in any way. That trope just pisses me off to end. (sorry to get up on my soapbox there). And there’s just as many bland, and damaging, stereotypical male characters. I don’t know that I want to dismantle anything, but I certainly want to knock down some walls and give us all some breathing room. Let characters be messy and complicated and not fit into neat, identifiable packages.
MT: Do you think you can come back to normal crime, noir, suspense, thriller, etc—anything in the crime genre or subgenre after this? How do you think your fans will respond? This was a spectacular book, and I know you can top it, but I am interested into what your next steps are.
SP: I’m already there. The last novel in the Judah Cannon Florida series will be out in 2020. I finished writing it last year. So I’m pretty confident in being able to flip around with genres. I’m not sure when I will going back to crime fiction now, though. The book I’m currently at work on is not a crime novel, but who knows what will happen after?
MT: We are really excited to hear about any and future works you are producing. I am so excited for you, at what feelslike the beginning of a bright and beautiful career. I can’t wish you anything but success in the future. Please feel free to leave any comments, thoughts, or other ponderings below. Know that I am so excited to turn what few of our readers don’t know about Miraculumonto the book, and I am so thankful you wrote it. Thank you for stopping by, and I really hope we get to talk again in the future!
SP: Thank you so much!! Readers are everything and readers like yourself, who take the time to really dig into a book, are absolute gems. I so appreciate all of your support. And, yes, please stay in touch!
Purchase Miraculum from Indiebound here: https://www.indiebound.org/book/9781947993419
Here is a link to where you can buy signed copies of MIRACULUM:
Matthew Turbeville: Hi Liz! I wanted to talk to you about your newest novel, Don’t Wake Up, which I’m sure will be a smash hit everywhere. The plot features a doctor who may or may not have been raped at the beginning of the novel in this nail-biting, stomach-churning opening that really haunts the reader well after the book is over. What helped you come up with the book premise?
Liz Lawler: Hi Matthew, It’s lovely to talk to you!
You use nail-biting and stomach-churning as feelings felt and this is a good place to start as I remember feeling both those emotions many times in my years of nursing. Tense shoulders and dry-mouth was me during times where critical care was required, which in nursing is par for the course. I used to come home with my shoulders aching and it wasn’t from the physical challenges of the job, but the tension carried in the aftermath. It’s a constant pendulum of highs and lows – joy and sadness – when one patient gets better and the next, not. I think years of witnessing the vulnerability of both patient and relative as they combatted fear burned into my psyche, so possibly there begins the premise of this story. Emotional vulnerability.
MT: I read that you are a former nurse turned writer. What do you feel really prepared you for writing, and writing this specific book, by being a former nurse?
LL: Most definitely all of the above and add that together with snippets of remembered throwaway remarks or opinions from many voices. Not just medical colleagues opinion, but relatives also. Do you think she’s just looking for attention? There’s nothing wrong with him, he’s just lonely. She’s hypochondriac. He’s a drug addict, he just wants drugs. She’s got mental health problems – can we trust what she says? It’s all in his imagination!
I don’t think people are intentionally careless, though in some cases people are just downright cruel. Often comments are made though frustration or tiredness or not finding an answer, but if we give up on looking where then does it leave the person who is suffering? Isolated and alone.
MT: I myself am chronically ill and see a lot of nurses, all telling me they never try to judge their patients. I wonder how you felt about certain characters in your novel—there are a lot of characters who, while entirely compelling, aren’t the most attractive people. Megan Abbott has instructed me never to judge my characters—did you have a hard time doing this for the many people who choose not to believe your protagonist?
LL: So Matthew you have probably seen and experienced a lot of the medical world so I hope your nurses are lovely! I think Megan Abbott is right never to judge characters. Many of us hear about that doctor or nurse who is uncaring or has a miserable face all the time and I worked with a few of those, but oftentimes they are simply wearing a face or displaying a manner that the seriousness of their job has formed. I had a general practitioner once who never smiled, but her care was undeniably there. Characters that are unattractive are still people with real feelings that hurt and hurt back when they are in pain and you still have to care for them. I want to understand their frailties and weaknesses if only to know why they behave as they do.
MT: The book is masterfully written, and you are excellent at creating scenarios that make the reader struggle to pull away from the page, and you also have a true gift for suspense and making the reader turn the page. What are some tricks or ideas you use to do this?
LL: You do say some lovely things! Truthfully, I use my deepest imagination to walk in the shoes of each of my characters. I imagine their fear and hatred and when it gets too much for me I pull back and breathe. If someone were to video me while I’m writing I dread to think what expressions would cross my face. My old dog used to sit on my feet while I sat writing and sometimes, out of the blue, he’d give me a look and sit somewhere else.
MT: As I mentioned, you really have a talent for a lot of things, the greatest of which is creating a phenomenal book that the reader simply can’t put down. What do you feel were the most important books that helped shape you as a writer? What books do you still turn to, and which authors are your favorite in the crime genre?
LL: That’s a really hard question to answer as I’ve read too many books to know what subliminal influences have passed through from them. To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee was the first grownup book I read and I still have that copy on my bookcase. To read of an injustice so undeniably wrong opened my mind to what I was reading wasn’t just fiction. It was the telling of human nature at its worst. When I closed the last page I was left wishing for the world to be filled with people like Atticus Finch. So I still turn to him! But I love the thriller/crime genre and read all and everything by authors Thomas Harris, Jeffery Deaver and Martina Cole to name but a few.
MT: This idea of not believing a victim—rape, assault, etc—is incredibly important now, as we have sort of peaked with the #metoo area, examining both the positive and negative effects of the movement, and have also moved on to try and press for politicians to make changes so that victims of rape and any type of assault might be helped or seek justice. Why do you feel this book is especially important today and what do you think it can teach readers?
LL: When I was writing Don’t Wake Up I was only thinking and feeling about the story. When I initially wrote it, I shelved it for a few years, and what has been happening in recent times had not yet been spoken about. The Me Too Movement was still to come. But again it is a subject that sadly I have witnessed, along with wife beating, husband beating and child abuse. It has always been there. That is not new. I think if I wanted teach anything (and I’m not a teacher) it would be to point out there was moment in many of those character lives when they were treated in a bad way, or they’d behaved in a way they shouldn’t, then was the time to tell about it and stop the domino effect. By staying quiet and afraid or resentful and jealous or fearing being disbelieved chained and locked them in the life they were living.
MT: In writing, revising, rewriting, what are your habits and practices? Are you a morning, afternoon, or evening writer? How many words or pages do you decide to write a day? What advice do you give aspiring writers about their own methods of writing?
LL: I would have to say in this instance – don’t do what I do. I’m terrible, Matthew, and every week I come up with a plan to put in place good writing practices. But by the time I open my laptop, mostly around 7:00 a.m. the intention has gone out the window. I then tend to sit until bedtime writing. Not healthy at all. Do you know I’ve never actually checked how many words I write a day? I just looked at the word count and it’s up to 1,650. One thing I do every day is read back and edit what was written the day before.
MT: Toni Morrison is credited with saying that the most important book to write is the book you’ve always wanted to read and have never found. Do you think that Don’t Wake Upis this book, or do you have a few more books to come before you get to this particular book?
LL: Great words! I feel I have much to learn and if anything what I truly aspire to being is a better writer. My second book in the UK has just been released and so that nail-biting, stomach-churning time is with me now. Likewise with Don’t Wake Up now published in the United States. The question being – will it be liked? I’m presently writing my third novel which is fortunately keeping me sane!
MT: What was the hardest part about writing this book? Did you ever feel like giving up, and what kept you going?
LL: The more it became finished the more afraid I was to have it read. And I stayed afraid a good while.In fact I’d completely stopped writing. Then everything changed. I got a phone call one morning from my darling mum. She rang me to say there was a writing competition and I didn’t have long to enter as it was closing soon. I told her I was done with writing and she told me I was a fool. A week later she died suddenly at the age of 89 and she was buried on her 90thbirthday, just before Christmas. After the funeral I returned home and I remembered out last conversation. I remembered hearing the frustration in her voice that I had given up. I decided to check out the details of this competition and saw that the deadline for submissions was less than a week away. I entered a story I knew she liked. The story was Don’t Wake Up, my debut novel. My mum, the hardest working woman I’ve ever known, will always be my inspiration.
MT: What is your favorite part about reading and writing mysteries and thrillers? What has pulled you into the genre, and what do you think the genre’s greatest strength is? What is so important about writing crime novels today?
LL: I think being afraid while being safe is a thrill. Experiencing danger without being in danger thumps the heart in my chest. I think the strength in the thriller genre is that it takes you on a frightening journey and sees you safe the other side. While not a fan of horror (way too scared to watch or read) I’ve always loved the thriller genre, both in books and movies and some have struck a chord of real fear in me. My 18 year old daughter was about to set sail around the world in her new job and a few days before departure I suggested we have a movie night. I put on TAKEN!
MT: The book is largely about love and love that is lost. We see multiple characters lose their lovers, their partners, their husbands or wives, and I really do love when crime fiction involves romantic issues and features these issues in different ways. It seems that every character, positive or negative, has some sort of heartbreak. Why do you think it was essential to write about this?
LL: When I imagine these characters I see them as real people, living and breathing with hopes and dreams, disappointments and failures. They each have a story, a moment, a past that makes them who they are. I think real life is like that – broken hearts, broken dreams and sometimes loss. I am always in awe when I hear of tragedies people have overcome of how incredibly brave they are. And to end on a lighter note – I love a love story.
MT: Trust is a major issue in the book, and being betrayed by those you think you can trust happens often. What do you think is so important in the crime community and in books lately about trust, and why does the issue resonate so profoundly today?
LL: I find it really interesting that more and more books include ways of committing crimes using the internet, social media, mobile phones and technology gadgets. Who’d ever have thought one day there’d be the word: Fraped? It scares the hell out of me that I already know a dozen people to have had this done to them. Cybercrimes: hacking, stalking, identity theft, child pornography and scam after scam happening every day. Valuable tools in the wrong hands causing devastation. I think when crime fiction reminds us of these things happening we learn to trust less.
MT: Do you already have a work in progress, or plans for books in the future? Could you give our readers any clues or idea of what the future book or books might be about?
LL: Yes, my second novel has just been published in the UK. It’s called ‘I’ll Find You’, and that too is about loss, and how far one is driven to find or make safe someone they love. I’m presently working on book three and the setting is completely different. I’m putting my experiences of working on trains and planes to use for this one!
MT: I really want to thank you for taking the time to let our readers get to know you and be interviewed by Writers Tell All. Your book is phenomenal, and I hope all our readers get the chance to read a copy. Remember guys, pick up your copy of Don’t Wake Upas soon as you can, you won’t regret it. As for you, Liz, feel free to leave us with any closing comments or thoughts.
LL: Matthew, thank you so much for inviting me to answers your questions. Have to say they have been the most thought provoking and challenging to date! You’ve made me question my mind in so many different areas, think things I didn’t even know I had any thoughts on. It’s been a pleasure. Wishing you all the best and of course thank you to any new readers over the pond. Hope you like Don’t Wake Up. Liz X
Followers of the site and my other writings elsewhere will note that I rarely endorse a novel so wholly, and yet NO EXIT is the novel to beat this year, and perhaps this decade. An astonishing novel of a young woman's desire to survive, and will to save another life, is so astonishing, nail-biting, edge-of-your-seat (and all other cliches), it is irresistible. But rest assured that NO EXIT is no cliche. It is phenomenal. Below is my interview with author Taylor Adams.
Matthew Turbeville: Wow, Taylor, this is a remarkable novel. I very rarely read books that completely overwhelm me with the story and characters. The book feels like a non-stop action ride peppered with some really great characters and a lot of other interesting things as well. What did you have planned when you first came up with No Exitand decided to write the book?
Taylor Adams: Thank you! I love contained thrillers, and I’d really wanted to try my hand at writing a story that took place in a “locked room” with very little outside interference. I think the pressure of isolation can do wonders for a story’s tension, and rest stops had always struck me as naturally eerie places. The idea of witnessing a horrible crime at a rest stop – and being trapped with the evildoer due to outside forces – was just too exciting a premise for me to ignore!
MT: Darby is such a wonderful character. I don’t know how to describe her—and given the obstacles in her way, her will to survive—I have to ask what went into making Darby as a character, and how did you decide this was the challenge she would face, and that this would be the perfect fight for her to take on?
TA: Darby was a fun character to write. I knew from the premise that the story needed a heroine who appears ordinary at first glance – but as she’s put to the test, she surprises herself, and the villain, with shocking tenacity and courage. That kind of heroism is genuinely inspiring to me. And I also tend to empathize with characters who are in a situation hopelessly over their heads (not sure what that says about me!). Throughout the rewriting process of No Exit, I frequently reminded myself: Darby isn’t a cop, she doesn’t know any martial arts, she’s not even particularly strong – but to save a little girl’s life tonight, she will literally cut throats. I love that in a protagonist.
MT: There are so many twists, some fairly early on. I know reading this book I felt settled in and cozy, not because the book was happy or I thought it would happily, but because I really believed I was reading a story being handled by a master of the form. How did you introduce these twists, and during revision and rewriting were there ever times you really felt that you needed to add or remove something significant?
TA: The story was more straightforward in its earlier drafts and became “twistier” as I rewrote it and found new opportunities for misdirection and surprise. Particularly in the final third, I really felt the need to layer in the upsets, as I feared the ending wasn’t packing the punch it needed to. One particular late-game twist – involving the outside world’s response to the climactic bloodbath – is one that I’ve been wanting to use in a story for years, and finally had the chance to! But on the other hand, overdoing it can feel like narrative whiplash. There was a final planned twist to the story’s epilogue which I’d struggled valiantly to write for several months before realizing it was simply too much. It would have been a major misstep.
MT: This novel reminds me so much of Joe Hill’s NOS4A2, in so many ways, although it is a book all its own. What are the books and authors who really influenced you and your writing throughout the creation of this book? Were there any books you particularly turned to when you were having an especially hard time writing the novel?
TA: I’m so happy to hear that! Joe Hill was absolutely an influence, as was much of Stephen King’s work. They both have an effortless way with the poetry of terror. I’m also a big fan of Scott Smith, whose amazing novels The Ruins and A Simple Plan similarly involve small groups of people under extreme pressure. And I’d be remiss not to cite the classic Christmas story Die Hard as a major influence – I wouldn’t quite call Darby a female version of John McClane, but I like to think they’d get along.
MT: What are your writing habits actually like? Do you write in the morning, evening, night, or are you the type of writer who fits writing in whenever you can? What was your path in becoming a writer, or did you feel this was always your “calling”?
TA: I like to write in the mornings (preferably with about a gallon of black coffee). I find I’m much sharper and more focused in the early parts of the day, so getting my obligatory thousand words in right at the crack of dawn is best. From an early age I knew I wanted to be a writer – when I was five years old, my parents bought me this publishing service for kids where you write/draw the pages and publisher binds it together as a book. Five-year-old me wrote “The Train’s Worst Day,” a harrowing and surprisingly bleak story about a train struggling to get home amid an onslaught of natural disasters. I guess I’ve always had a thing for tormenting my protagonists.
MT: This novel feels like it is about some really strong women—Darby in particular—and the determined need to survive and see things through to the end. The ending is something that I’m still trying to wrap my head around, and also something I loved and admire you for so immensely. If you wouldn’t mind sharing, who are the women who have affected your life deeply and influenced Darby—personal, literary, famous, activists, so on?
TA: My wonderful girlfriend Jaclyn was a tremendous influence. She’s an extremely smart and tenacious attorney, and she takes no crap in a legal field that’s still heavily male-dominated. Likewise, in No Exit, Darby assumes an action-hero role, which is perhaps an equally male-dominated space. Her enemy underestimates her at first. But she digs in, duct-tapes her wounds, plans her attack, and does not quit. That’s Jaclyn, winning a case.
MT: This book is much more a thriller than a mystery (although there are some really great elements involving mysteries as well in the book). What’s so amazing is how you kept me glued to the page, unable to stop reading until the very last sentence, and even then wanting more. My heart was pounding, my fingers curved in and digging into the page, and I knew this would be a book I would think about for days. What are a few of your secrets to maintaining such incredible suspense throughout the entire novel? It’s astounding how you were able to make use of every single word in the book—something most writers don’t have the ability to do—and even from the first page. Can you explain how some of this works?
TA: Momentum is extremely important to me. Whether it’s a gentle pull or a sharp tug, I truly delight in the sensation of a story relentlessly pulling me to the next page. I worked hard to keep that momentum unbroken throughout No Exitby keeping the tempo varied and making sure Darby never has a chance to rest (in fact, an early title was No Rest). When writing the action scenes, I tried to visualize the events like a continuous camera-take in a film, following clear lines of cause and effect for clarity and urgency. Even the simpler things like chapter transitions – for example, making one scene’s ending “rhyme” with the next scene’s beginning – can be a powerful tool for keeping that all-important momentum unbroken.
MT: At times, I suppose it seems like Darby is fighting for her own survival, but in others ways we see Darby fighting to survive and “win” (that’s the term I’ll use for now so I don’t spoil the book) and I wonder what “ghosts” you give your protagonists, what things haunt them and drive them, and what are the aspects you add into the novel in the current situation that drive the protagonist even harder? There is a person Darby is trying to protect, and I wonder what this person represents to Darby?
TA: As exciting as fighting for survival can be, it will quickly become boring if spread uninterrupted over 300+ pages with no other character motivations (believe me, I’ve tried!). It’s important that the hero have other emotional needs that can serve to both mix up the stakes and deepen the story’s primary conflict. In this case, Darby’s guilt over her troubled relationship with her mother, and her limited time to make amends, provides a brutal added stress – and ultimately, a very positive route toward redemption.
MT: If you do outline your novels, how do you do it? If you don’t outline your novels, what is the process like? What do you focus on first, character or plot? What helps to pull you in to a story you’re creating to make a truly great novel?
TA: Oh man, do I love outlines. I’ll often outline many times before writing a first draft, and even between drafts. They’re a great way for me to get my head around a story’s shape and structure. I would say I focus on the plot first – in a novel like No Exit, the plot is basically the situation, and the changing situation is what informs the characters’ goals (good and evil alike). As the story takes shape, there needs to be an emotional core to hero that I can connect with – in the case of No Exit, it’s Darby’s determination to make a difference and defy her own selfish past, even if it’s literally the last thing she does. That’s the “fuel” for me.
MT: Your novel does not stop from its very beginning until its very end. As I mentioned before, you make use of every word in the novel. I have to wonder how long it took you to write this novel. What was plotting every twist and turn like when there were so many and you made every sentence and word count?
TA: It took me a good eighteen months to write No Exit, across numerous rewrites, overhauls, and general fretting. I started every draft as a new Word document, refocusing and distilling the story each time, to find the most efficient ways forward without breaking that all-important momentum. In many ways, that rapid pace came at the cost of character development – I had scarce time to delve into anyone’s backstories – so I worked hard to show their traits in action instead.
MT: I have to ask, do you have any other books coming up soon? A work in progress or a book that is ready for publication soon? I’m sure our readers will be dying to know.
TA: I do! I’m hard at work writing another twisty thriller with the working title of Hairpin Bridge. It follows a young woman hellbent on proving that her twin sister’s shocking suicide, atop a remote bridge in Montana, was really a murder. To prove this, she drives out to that very same bridge and interviews the local cop who claims to have discovered her sister’s body, and tries to catch him in a lie…
MT: Taylor, thank you so much for letting us pick your brain about your book. It was an endlessly entertaining, beautiful, brutal, visceral, and frighteningly good novel to dive into and I’m so glad I got the chance to read it—and let us know if you have any thoughts, comments, etc below. Thank you again!
TA; Thank you so much for having me here! I really appreciate the kind words!
Matthew Turbeville: Hi Barry! Before I begin talking about Livia Lone and maybe a bit about John Rain, I wanted to know about your history in work and life before you became an amazing publishedauthor. Can you tell us a little bit about what your life was like before writing?
Barry Eisler: Mostly I was a writer/philosopher/adventurer trapped in a lawyer’s body…J
Joking aside, in retrospect it can all look planned because my previous experiences tend to manifest themselves in the stories I write, but I was really just bouncing around, not sure of what I wanted to be, what was best in me, where I could make the most meaningful contribution. I spent three years in a covert position in the CIA; then I was a technology lawyer in Silicon Valley and Japan; then I was an executive in a Silicon Valley startup. Some of it was interesting, some less so, but I guess all of it was redeemed to at least some extent by being transformed into fuel for my stories.
But the truth is, I’m still not satisfied I’m really doing what I’m best at and what could make the biggest impact. Before being hounded to death by the U.S. government, Aaron Swartzsaid, “What is the most important thing you could be working on in the world right now? And if you’re not working on that, why aren’t you?” I think about that a lot, and I’m not sure whether for me writing novels is the answer.
MT: So, when you found your way to writing, what was the first thing you wrote? How long was it before you began writing novels and which novel was the novel that got you an agent? Do you have any advice for aspiring authors about this?
BE: I’ve been writing something or other since I was a kid. I used to spend a couple weeks every summer at my grandparents’ house on the Jersey shore. I would bang out short stories about vampires and werewolves on my grandmother’s typewriter. Fortunately, as far as I know those early efforts no longer exits…!
Also when I was a kid, I read a biography of Harry Houdini, and in the book a cop was quoted as saying, “It’s fortunate that Houdini never turned to a life a crime, because if he had he would have been difficult to catch and impossible to hold.” I remember thinking how cool it was that this man knew things people weren’t supposed to know, things that gave him special power. And that notion made a big impression, because since then I’ve amassed an unusual library on topics I like to think of as “forbidden knowledge:” methods of unarmed killing, lock picking, breaking and entry, spy stuff, and other things the government wants only a few select individuals to know. And I spent three years in the CIA, I got pretty into a variety of martial arts…
And then I moved to Tokyo to train in judo—this was when I was 29. I think all the other stuff must have been building up in my mind like dry tinder, waiting for the spark which life in Tokyo came to provide. Because while I was there commuting to work one morning, a vivid image came to me of two men following another man down Dogenzaka street in Shibuya. I still don’t know where the image came from, but I started thinking about it. Who are these men? Why are they following that other guy? Then answers started to come: They’re assassins. They’re going to kill him. But these answers just let to more questions: Why are they going to kill him? What did he do? Who do they work for? It felt like a story, somehow, so I started writing, and that was the birth of John Rain and my first book, A Clean Kill in Tokyo, originally called Rain Fall.That was the one that got me my first agent, and it was about eight years from initial idea to first sale in part because I had a busy day job, and in part because at first I didn’t really know what I was doing, and revised that first manuscript more times than I’ll ever remember, getting better at the craft as I did so.
If there’s any advice to be found in all that, it’s partly about the importance of indulging your passions. I realize in retrospect that what gave birth to that first novel (and the novels that came after) was a lifelong tendency to indulge certain passions of mine: the forbidden knowledge, politics, judo, jazz, and Japan (where I was living when I started writing the first book). Stories don’t get catalyzed by the things that bore you; they quicken instead when you do the things you love. So if you want to write a story, or just avoid writer’s block, I recommend finding a way to do the things that fascinate you, the things you love to do, the things you obsess over and that make the world go away. Those things are like coal being shovelled into the furnace of your imagination, and denying yourself those things is like denying your mind the nutrition it needs to thrive. For more thoughts on how to find the time, discipline, and structure to write a novel (hint: don’t watch television), a TEDx Tokyo talkI once gave is a good resource.
Another lesson is, don’t give up. The first fifty responses I got from agents I contacted were all rejections. Most were form letters, but a few had some helpful suggestions scribbled in the margins. A few had some really bad suggestions, one of which I still remember: “Try third person.” That would have been a disaster for A Clean Kill in Tokyo, leaching the story of the appeal of first-hand access to the mind of a ruthlessly competent but conflicted contract killer. I ignored the bad suggestions, considered the good ones, and did an extensive rewrite.
Eventually, a friend of a friend who worked at a publishing house suggested that I send the manuscript to a few agents with whom she worked, one of whom was Nat Sobel, who became my first agent. Nat saw promise in the early manuscript but knew it wasn’t ready for prime time; he offered suggestions for improvement that were as extensive as they were excellent, and, about two years later, he judged the manuscript ready to go. At that point (this was autumn, 2001), the deals came fast and furious: first Sony’s Village Books in Japan, then Penguin Putnam in the US, then eight foreign offers, all over the course of about two months, all two-book deals. I quit my day job and have been writing full time ever since—a dream come true.
And though things have worked out well, if I could do things over, I would have tried to write more consistently. Spending months or even days away from a manuscript detaches the story from your unconscious. Conversely, working on a story every day lights a fire in your unconscious that becomes self-sustaining, igniting new story points even when you’re not consciously working on the draft. So the on-again, off-again approach drastically inhibits your access to one of your most powerful storytelling assets: your unconscious, what I’ve heard Stephen King call “the boys in the basement.”
I would also have read more how-to books. There are some excellent books on craftout there, and while I believe they’re of secondary importance to actually writing and to learning to read like a writer, they can dramatically accelerate your mastery of craft. Anyone who tells you “but you can’t teach art,” by the way, is being glib. Of course art can’t be taught, but teaching art isn’t the point. The point is: all art is based on craft—that is, on a body of techniques that can be taught to and learned by anyone with talent. Art is an expression of something unique to you and indeed, it can’t be taught. But without craft, there is no art, because all art is based on craft. The truism that “art can’t be taught” is an observation so pointless and irrelevant that I wonder how it continues as a meme. Maybe it makes artists feel more special, as though they’ve been chosen for unique dispensation by the magical writing muse. Maybe it comforts talented non-artists by freeing them of responsibility for their failure to study. Either way, it’s silly and misleading and ought to be retired.
(On the subject of glib pronouncements inexplicably embraced unimpeded by critical thought: Frank Zappa is supposed to have said, “Writing about music is like dancing about architecture.” I suppose this could be true, if the expressive, descriptive, and overall communication possibilities of dance were identical to those of the written word. Are they?)
Anyway, there’s no substitute for practice, true, but for any skill you’re trying to learn—a martial art, a language, a musical instrument, writing—there’s an optimal balance of practice and theory. In retrospect, I realize I would have learned faster if I’d informed my practice with a little more theory, whether how-to books, writer’s groups, conferences, or whatever.
One thing you shouldn’t conclude from the fact that it was a friend of a friend who put me in touch with the guy who became my first agent is that in this business it’s critical to know someone. That’s a common misapprehension, born of wishful thinking. What matters is writing a great story. The literary agent’s business model involves reviewing everything that comes in, so eventually I would have gotten to Nat, and his judgment would have been the same. Having someone steer me to him speeded things up for me, but that’s about all.
In other words, who you know might get a door opened for you, or get it opened a little sooner than you might have opened it on your own. But what happens on the other side of that door is entirely up to you. Manage your priorities accordingly (translation: Write. The. Book).
Another lesson: the truth of the adage, “Good writing is rewriting. Sometimes people are astonished when they learn the first bookI’d started was also my first published. What they don’t realize is that how much rewriting went into that manuscript—for the amount I learned from it, it might as well have been my fifth manuscript, not, technically, my first. You have to be committed taking the time and expending the effort to develop your mastery of the craft—the practice side of the practice/theory balance I mentioned earlier.
Okay, just a few more thoughts—on what kept me going during the eight years between the first idea for the A Clean Kill in Tokyomanuscript and the first sale of rights for the novel. That can be a long, lonely stretch: no contract, a busy day job, the distractions of everyday life, and no external reason to believe you have the talent or might have the luck to get published.
I think that, in life, there are things you can control and things you can’t (or, to think of the whole thing as a continuum, there are things that are relatively amenable to your influence and things that are relatively unamenable). The things you’re responsible for, and therefore the things that can be the source of legitimate pride or shame, are the ones you can control. If you want to be a writer, the thing you can almost totally control is finishing the book. Finding an agent, getting published…that all takes a certain amount of luck and timing and circumstances (although of course your hard work on what you can control will affect these less controllable factors, too). So my attitude was this: I wanted to be published, but if it didn’t happen, I didn’t want it to be my fault. I wanted to be able to look in the mirror and say, “Okay, you didn’t manage to get published, but you did everything you could to make it happen, you finished the book, so you’ve got nothing to be ashamed of and every reason to feel proud.” That attitude—the fear of one day feeling that if I didn’t make it I might think it was my fault—is what kept me going for many years with no external signs of success. Imagine how it’ll feel if you don’t get published and you know it was your fault—and make sure not to let that happen to you.
MT: Can you tell us about Livia Lone? She has her own series and we learn so much about Livia in the first novel. Would you mind telling us about Livia, why she is who she is, and why being Livia Lone played into the greater part of the novel?
BE: Well, the book jacket provides a pretty nice primer, I think: Refugee. American. Victim. Survivor. Cop. Killer.
When we meet her, Livia is a Seattle PD sex-crimes detective. But as the above primer suggests, she’s much more than just that. Maybe the best way to gain an initial understanding of her character is to recognize that she is fundamentally a sheepdog.
The world, a mentor explains to Livia sometime after she has been rescued from traffickers and is intent on finding her missing sister, is made of three kinds of people: sheep, wolves, and sheepdogs. Sheep are ordinary people, obviously, while wolves are predators. Sheepdogs, though—soldiers, police, firefighters—while fanged like wolves, possess an instinct not for predation, but rather for protection.
Livia is a born sheepdog. Someone with a deep-seated, hard-wired need to protect—albeit a need tuned by trauma to the level of obsession.
Because what happens to a person who is so wired for protection—not just in general, but in particular for the little sister she adores—when as a child her ability to protect is horrifically ripped away from her?
That sheepdog might start protecting the flock not just by warding off the wolves. But by hunting down the wolves. And killing them.
So on a superficial level, Livia Loneis a story about revenge. But on a deeper, and more important level, the story is about love.
MT: Some of the scenes are brutal and are hard to read, and I imagine hard to write. Would you mind telling us what it was like writing Livia’s history and why it was so important to talk about this sort of history, this sort of life, and how do you think Livia’s past makes her the character we read about today?
BE: From the beginning, I was at least as interested in the forces that shaped Livia in the past as I was about the present-day plot. Happily, those two timeframes, delineated as “Then” and “Now” chapters in the novel, come together, as the past gradually catches up to the present.
Understanding Livia’s past was important to me for several reasons I can articulate. For one, I wanted her to be real. She is capable of extreme behavior—even driven to it—and exceptionally capable tactically. These things are possible, but unlikely, and if I don’t understand the foundation myself, and present it to the reader, then the drive, the capabilities, and the behavior will be just a cartoon. And while there’s nothing wrong with cartoons, I’m more interested in something more realistic.
Presenting Livia’s past was also important to me because technically, she’s a murderer—even a serial killer. And if you don’t understand her past, you won’t be able to sympathize with her actions today.
Livia is a survivor of some of the worst trauma imaginable. I want people to understand not just that the kind of trauma she experiences actually happens, but that someone can survive it—albeit with damage she still struggles to sublimate and overcome.
MT: Were there any novels that inspired Livia Lone or John Rain in their lives or professions? What books do you constantly turn to in your writing both in and outside of the genre, and what are your favorite books in general?
BE: The assassins of Trevanian—Nicholai Hel in Shibumi, and Jonathan Hemlock in The Eiger Sanctionand The Loo Sanction—were definitely an influence for Rain. Both were men of superior intellect, refinement, and (paradoxically) morality. In fact, there’s a line in Shibumiabout Hel as a tiger battling a blob of amoebas, and that theme, which was also present in the corporate-controlled world of the original Rollerball(“It’s not a game a man is supposed to grow strong in, Jonathan, you should appreciate that”), resonates for me.
Books that inspired Livia…definitely the works of child protector and novelist Andrew Vachss, and the jaw-dropping nonfiction Sex Crimes, Then and Now: My Years on the Front Lines Prosecuting Rapists and Confronting Their Collaborators, by former sex crimes prosecutor Alice Vachss.
Also, Dave Grossman’s phenomenal On Killing: The Psychological Costs of Learning to Kill in War and Society, which is where I first came across the sheep, wolves, sheepdogs concept.
Books that I turn to in my writing…well, sometimes I’ll warm up with something I’ve written previously, to get my head back in that world. And I read a lot of nonfiction. As I like to say, most of my plots are courtesy of the US government, because what’s bad for America is great for thriller writers.
And my favorite books in general…that would be a long answer, so I’ll try to narrow it down by defining “favorite” as the ones I’ve read the most. At the top of that category would be Mario Puzo’s The Godfather, which is both one of the best-told stories I’ve ever come across and an impressive study of human nature, too. And Judy Blume’s Foreveris where I learned to write a good love scene. J
MT: Can you tell our readers (as few spoilers as possible, please!) about what and who Livia Lone and John Rain are in relation to this new book—how they have evolved and if this is the first of your books our readers buy, can you give us just enough clues to figure out how to read the book as a standalone? What essentials must the reader know before diving in?
BE: All my books are designed to function both as series entries and as standalones, so anyone can appreciate The Killer Collectivewith or without having read any of the previous Rain or Livia books.
If I had to compare Rain and Livia…well, they’re both survivors, they’re both killers, they’re both exceptionally methodical. But the differences are probably more significant: Livia was created by trauma, while Rain’s origins lie in an innate attraction to conflict. Livia is motivated by a deep-seated need to protect, while Rain’s motivations are less noble. And Livia is primarily a sheepdog, intent on guarding the sheep, while Rain is much more a wolf, grappling with guilt about having preyed on others.
Rain has been around for a while—he was first published in 2002!—and in some ways he’s changed. He’s less the lone wolf he was at the outset. He has a clan now, which creates complications. He’s older, and grappling with an increasing awareness of his own mortality, and with the increased weight of the life he’s led and what he’s done. He’s been trying to retire—to kill his way out of the killing business—but never quite seems to make it.
And Livia teamed up with Rain’s partner, former Marine sniper Dox, in the previous book, The Night Trade,and that turned into an interesting relationship. So I started wondering…what would happen if Livia, in the course of her Seattle PD sex-crime detective duties, uncovered something so big that she was targeted in an attempted hit? Would she call on Dox for help? Would Dox call on Rain?
And what if Rain had earlier been offered the hit himself…?
Once I started playing around with it, the idea became irresistible. The characters from the Rain and Livia universes are all so different—different motivations, different training, different worldviews, different personalities—that the idea of forcing them together, all their tangled histories, and smoldering romantic entanglements and uncertainties and jealousies and doubts, under the relentless pressure of extremely resourceful adversaries…looking back, it seems almost inevitable! And I sure had a lot of fun doing it.
MT: When reading the book, everything felt smooth and glorious to me. However I read back over the synopsis and thought this is a lot for a new reader to take in. (Readers: I do encourage you to read this book as well of all Barry’s books, I just want him to break down the story for you!) Would you mind breaking down the synopsis while also avoiding spoilers?
BE: Well, it starts like this:
THE LONE WOLVES OF BARRY EISLER’S BESTSELLING NOVELS COME TOGETHER IN A KILLER TEAM!
And I’d add…
When a joint FBI-Seattle Police investigation of an international child pornography ring gets too close to certain powerful people, sex-crimes detective Livia Lone becomes the target of a hit that barely goes awry—a hit that had been offered to John Rain, a retired specialist in “natural causes.”
Suspecting the FBI itself was behind the attack, Livia reaches out to former Marine sniper Dox. Together, they assemble an ad hoc group to identify and neutralize the threat. There’s Rain. Rain’s estranged lover, Mossad agent and honeytrap specialist Delilah. And Black op soldiers Ben Treven and Daniel Larison, along with their former commander, SpecOps legend Colonel Scot “Hort” Horton.
Moving from Japan to Seattle to DC to Paris, the group fights a series of interlocking conspiracies, each edging closer and closer to the highest levels of the US government.
With uncertain loyalties, conflicting agendas, and smoldering romantic entanglements, these operators will have a hard time forming a team. But in a match as uneven as this one, a collective of killers might be even better.
That’s the gist… and no spoilers, either. J
MT: How do you think you’ve improved as a writer with The Killer Collectiveand what makes your writing different as you grow older, write more books, and learn more about writing and the world in general?
BE: First I’d just like to thank you for the flattering assumptions in that question. J
I’ll leave it to readers to judge whether I’ve gotten better and all that, but if I have, I think it probably comes down to experience with the craft and experience with life. Anyone who takes a craft seriously is going to get better with practice—it’s part of what makes a craft rewarding and even, well, a craft. And given that I was 29 when I started my first novel and that I’m 54 now, well, that’s a quarter century of time in the saddle—a pretty long stretch in which to learn, consider, reflect, and hopefully to grow. When dreaming up a story, you can only draw on what you know, and you know more when you’re older than you do when you’re young (at least you do if you’re doing it right). Which means if things go well you should have a richer palette to paint from later in life than earlier on. I feel that’s been the case for me.
MT: Is there a character you identify with more than others? Do you feel you’ve put certain aspects of yourself in John Rain, Livia Lone, or any of the other characters in your books?
BE: Well, writing Dox makes me laugh more than writing any other character (although I was surprised to find that Daniel Larison, my “angel of death” former black-ops badass, was cracking me up in The Killer Collective), and Livia makes me cry more. Which probably means I strongly identify with Dox and Livia, at least in certain ways.
I wouldn’t say I deliberately put any of myself in my characters—it’s not as conscious as that. When I get an idea for a character, what I try to do instead is imagine who this person is—what were her formative experiences, what does she think she wants, what does she really want, what is she afraid of, how does she look at the world, what makes her tick. In doing that, of course the raw material is derived from things I recognize in myself, but what I try to do is take that raw material, distill it out, culture it in the medium of this new character, and see how it grows. I think that’s the right approach generally: as Robert McKee says in his book Story: Substance, Structure, Style, and the Principles of Screenwriting, the inquiry isn’t about you, and it’s not about the character, it’s more what would you do if you were the character.
In practical terms, that means there aren’t any characteristics of my characters I don’t recognize in myself (I think that would be impossible, unless there are things about myself I can’t or don’t want to consciously recognize that are bleeding through layers of repression and manifesting themselves in my characters…which now that we’re talking about it, is an interesting idea and I’m going to think more about it). But the way those characteristics manifests is different. I can be cynical at times, for example, but overall I think my nature is optimistic (perhaps foolishly so, but we’re all victims of ourselves). Rain’s cynicism, on the other hand, is much more central to who he is—a driving force, and something he has to grapple with far more than I do mine.
MT: The Killer Collectivefeels more epic in scope, in thrills, mysteries, characters, everything. Can you talk about what has led to your writing The Killer Collectiveand if this isn’t your favorite of your own books, what is?
BE: Thanks for that. The book feels epic to me, too, in part because the cast of characters is the biggest I’ve ever worked with, and in part because of what all those characters have gone through and what’s led them to this story.
Is this one my favorite? Right now it feels that way, but that could be a recency effect. I do think it’s probably the most nonstop story I’ve written—not just the action, but the emotions, too. Managing all these characters, all their differences and distrusts, with one tenuous romance in progress and another one being resuscitated from near-death, all while determined, capable enemies are launching formidable attacks, was technically challenging. Plus the milieus are so different—Livia is a police detective, Rain and the others are assassins and spies. So the initial chapters moved back and forth from a police procedural feel to a spy thriller feel, with those disparate worlds merging as the story progressed. Which was challenging, but I think (if I may say so) it all came in beautifully balanced on the page, with everyone getting key solo moments, one-on-one moments, and, of course, team moments, because, after all, this is a killer collective.
MT: Going back to writing in general, what book was the hardest book you’ve ever written? Which book or books gave you the most trouble? Regarding Livia Loneand The Killer Collective, what do you feel was or were the hardest parts you have to deal with when writing your most recent novel?
BE: Livia Lonewas hardest because of what I had to put her through in depicting her past. Graveyard of Memorieswas hardest because I had to recreate 1972 Tokyo, which involved a fair amount of research. The Killer Collectivewas hardest because the canvas was so broad.
I guess writing books is just hard…? J
MT: Can you talk a little about your writing process? What is it like to be an author like yourself? Are you’re a morning, noon, afternoon, evening writer? How many words do you write a day? Where do you write?
BE: I’m always happy to talk about my process, but like to note upfront that whatever works for me is only something that by definition can work for someone, and not something that will necessarily work for anyone else. I love that Bruce Lee quote: “Research your own experience. Absorb what is useful, reject what is useless, add what is essentially your own.”
So what works for me…I follow a lot of news on geopolitics, the media, and government skullduggery. Not the establishment stuff—that just tells you what you’ve already been indoctrinated with, and the world doesn’t need any additional regurgitation of conventional (and failed) wisdom. I’m talking about Amy Goodman’s Democracy Now!, for example, or Marcy Wheeler at Emptywheel, who covers political stuff with almost psychic insights. Throw a few invented characters into Wheeler’s articles and I swear you’d have a dozen terrifying thrillers.
And I think a lot about what I read, and sometimes write about it, too, on my blog The Heart of the Matter. From all that I get plot ideas, many of them direct from the U.S. government—like the mass domestic surveillance program at the heart of my novelThe God’s Eye View.
But the plot ideas would be worthless if I weren’t processing everything I read about through a human-nature filter. Plot is one thing, but without that human nature element, I don’t think you’d get a story.
And then I take walks and ask myself questions about the who, the where, the what, the why…I dictate the answers, and write them up, and the answers lead to more questions…and at some point, an opening scene comes to me, and I’ll start writing. And then it’s iterative: I write, then I walk and think, and then I write some more, and as the story progresses, the ratio of thinking to writing gradually shifts from almost all thinking and almost no writing to the reverse of that, so that by the time I’m writing the last quarter of the book or so I’m on fire and putting in long stretches of writing—3000, 4000, once even 8000 words in a day. That stretch of unimpeded running toward the end is a beautiful high, and a lot of effort, a lot of foundation building, precedes it.
And when I write the words “The End,” which is usually in the wee hours of the morning, I try to do something special to mark the moment. Open a certain whisky, drive out to an overlook and watch the sunrise, take a long walk through nocturnal Tokyo, just feeling alive and so satisfied to be done.
Until the edits come in, anyway. JBut that part is easy by comparison.
MT: A lot of both young and aspiring writers as well as some accomplished writers ask me about ending. For The Killer Collective,was it hard to write an ending? Has a book and its ending ever had you stumped? What would you suggest to any writer struggling with an ending now?
BE: For some aspects of the craft, I feel like I can give useful advice because I’m conscious of what I’m doing. But for others, less so, and writing a satisfying ending is one of the “less so” categories. For me, it’s mostly instinct, and explaining it would be like trying to explain how to make a punchline funny. All I can say is probably 95% of it is how well you did the setup, because without a proper setup, the best-delivered punchline in the world will still fall flat. But with a great setup, a great punchline is almost hard notto deliver.
So yeah, maybe that is reasonably good advice, albeit somewhat Yoda-like. It’s like dialogue: usually when dialogue is falling flat, the problem isn’t in the dialogue, it’s in the characters, as in the writer doesn’t know them, doesn’t feel them, well enough. And if the ending isn’t there, it might be because what preceded it wasn’t quite right, meaning you have to fix something more fundamental than you might like.
It’s like if the walls of the house you’re building keep collapsing, the problem might be not in the walls, but in the foundation. But that’s a hard thing to acknowledge, because it entails a lot of rebuilding.
MT: Do you think you will keep writing about these characters, or will you eventually end the series and write about other people? Do you think even if you write a standalone or something else, all of the people in your writing universe will still be there in one form or another?
BE: I’ve never been good at predicting these things—I actually thought at the time that my first Rain book was a standalone!—so I won’t even try. I’ll just say I’ll keep writing whatever comes to me, existing characters and new ones, and hopefully the stories will keep on delighting me and others.
MT: The country is currently in a sort of turmoil, and I love asking my favorite authors this question. If you were to give the whole of America one of your books, what would you give to these people and why? What about another author’s book or books, and what would be the reason behind this?
BE: Oh, that’s a hard one! Well, I’m fond of my essay, The Ass is a Poor Receptacle for the Head: Why Democrats Suck at Communication and How They Could Improve. But even if any top Democrats decided to read that one, it’s a safe bet they lack the motivation or capacity to absorb any of its lessons. So I guess making a gift of it might be a bit of a waste.
That said, I’ve never seen a Democrat with a better instinct for communication than Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez. She would get the essay. But she’s also the least in need of it!
Another author’s books…that’s another hard one. I think the ones that have been most personally valuable to me would include Dale Carnegie’s How to Win Friends & Influence People, which is incredibly insightful about human nature and describes a disarmingly beautiful approach to engaging with others. Amusing Ourselves To Death: Public Discourse In the Age of Show Business, by Neil Postman, completely changed my understanding of media. Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Fouris, sadly, full of insights into the worst aspects of human nature and was stunningly prescient—proving, as though any further proof were required, that if you understand human nature, you can predict events exceptionally accurately. And a recent one that tapped into all kinds of things I’ve been thinking about, connecting, correcting, and expanding them, is Why Buddhism Is True, by Robert Wright.
MT: Do you think you’ve written the novel you’ve always wanted to read but never found yet, or do you think that novel is still coming and in the works? Speaking of next works, can you tell us what your next book will be after The Killer Collective?
BE: I’ll let Rain answer that, from A Lonely Resurrection:
I took a long, meandering route, moving mostly on foot, watching as the city gradually grew dark around me. There’s something so alive about Tokyo at night, something so imbued with possibilities. Certainly the daytime, with its zigzagging schools of pedestrians and thundering trains and hustle and noise and traffic, is the more upbeat of the city’s melodies. But the city also seems burdened by the quotidian clamor, and almost relieved, every evening, to be able to ease into the twilight and set aside the weight of the day. Night strips away the superfluity and the distractions. You move through Tokyo at night and you feel you’re on the verge of that thing you’ve always longed for. At night, you can hear the city breathe.
I feel that way about writing books. Each one is beautiful—a little mystery solved, a deep-seated emotional itch scratched. But it doesn’t solve anything. You feel you’re on the verge, but you never quite get there.
But I also find something lovely and satisfying in that. Maybe it’s mono no aware—the sadness of being human.
The book I’m working on now is a Livia Lone standalone.
MT: There are so many things you can take away from a novel—fun and entertainment, ideas for works of your own, some sort of new understanding of the world around us, learning more about ourselves and the people we know, etc. What is the one thing you want readers to take away from your novels when they’re done?
BE: I certainly hope they’ve been entertained, and invested in the characters to the point of laughing and crying and being deeply moved. And if they reflect a bit on what it feels like, what it means, to be on “this crazy ride of life,” as Dox might put it, that would make me happy, too.
And if some of them were to read the bibliography, and learn that the government programs and all the other skullduggery I write about isn’t fiction at all, well that’s what the bibliography is there for. So hopefully, the books will educate as well as entertain.
MT: This may like a cheesy question, but I actually love asking it and the various questions I get. What do you think the writer’s most important job is?
BE: Stephen King says the writer’s job is to tell the truth. I like to say things my own way, but I can’t really improve on that.
MT: The Killer Collectiveis a big, wonderful book, so exciting, nail-biting (I mean quite literally), and so amazing to walk away from, even if you walk away wanting more. The book solidifies your standing beside the greatest suspense and thriller writers in the world, and it means so much to me to be able to interview you, to talk about your book and writing. For all of our readers, I really hope you will purchase a copy of this astounding book, The Killer Collective, If you’re not convinced by me, look at Amazon and Audible and see how fast it’s moving up the list of preorders. As for Barry, thank you for the answers to my questions, and please leave any thoughts or comments below.
BE: Thanks for the very kind words, Matthew, for the thought-provoking questions, and for enjoying the books!
Matthew Turbeville: If it means anything, when typing up my questions I tried to change my front to New York Times Bestselling Author instead of Times New Roman. Amy, how does it feel to be the most coveted new author in all of crime fiction—someone compared to Megan Abbott, Laura Lippman, Tana French—the greats. What do you feel is the biggest leap and struggle between switching from groundbreaking debut to blockbuster follow-up? (Plus a book about Tori Amos in between!)
Amy Gentry:If anyone considers me in the company of any of those three authors, I’m insanely honored! They’re three of my favorites, and in many ways, my role models.
Moving from the first to the second book is always a challenge. You spend years crafting your debut, because it has to be absolutely perfect before you can sell it. And since you don’t know whether anyone will ever read it, it’s written one hundred percent for you. My second novel LAST WOMAN STANDING was written under contract, which means I had to figure it out a lot faster--none of the long detours and rambling pre-writing sessions and trying out three different settings that I did for Good as Gone. I was also pregnant when I wrote LAST WOMAN STANDING, desperate to finish before the baby. I had a timeline all written out, but in my panic I wound writing a completely bizarre alternate ending, and still not finishing it. I remember sitting in the hospital with the pitocin drip going, emailing my agent on my phone. It was all very bizarre. I had finished the ending with a newborn crying in the next room. Obviously there was an extension involved. . .! My editors at Houghton Mifflin Harcourt were extremely patient and helpful through it all. But it certainly wasn’t the leisurely part-time writing experience of Good as Gone. The Tori Amos book, which had been under contract since before I had a literary agent, was a further wrinkle. Anyone working on two books at once will tell you that no matter how hard you try, both rounds of edits always end up hitting your in-box the same day.
MT: When you first published Good As Gone, people were obsessed. We met because I was obsessed and wouldn’t stop tagging you on Facebook (I still don’t but we don’t want the authorities to know that!)—what inspired this novel? You were famous, if I remember correctly, from being the brilliant debut author who didn’t meanto write crime fiction. Can you explain to us how that happened to?
AG: I didn’t read a whole lot of crime fiction--or at least, I didn’t think of myself as reading it, although I had read Lippman, Megan Abbott, Ruth Rendell, Barbara Vine, Chandler, Hammett, and the great Patricia Highsmith. But somehow, even though I had read many of them in grad school, I didn’t think of myself as knowing a lot about them. I always wanted to write like Henry James--not in his style, obviously, but stories of incredibly twisted people messing with each other’s heads, and trying to be good people and failing miserably. That’s what I thought I was writing with Good as Gone--a twisted family melodrama wherein the mother suspects her daughter is an impostor, and we have to figure out which one of these two women is seriously screwed up. (I don’t think it’s a spoiler to say: both of them!)
Anyway, there was a kidnapped girl sitting right in the middle of the book. I felt like kind of a dummy when I realized it was obviously a thriller. Once I began thinking of it that way, the whole thing fell into place. And I looked at my bookshelf and suddenly it made sense that I owned twenty-three books by Patricia Highsmith. Almost all the stories I want to tell involve psychological suspense, even if they don’t have dead bodies in them. And lots of them have dead bodies!
MT: Attica Locke semi-recently said that all fiction is crime fiction. Do you agree with that? What do you feel is the single greatest crime committed inGood As Gone? That may be a really loaded question/answer so feel free to elaborate on that. But also the concept of the kidnapped girl and returned woman—sure, I’m sure it’s been done before, but you made it feel so new. How did you decide to approach the issue and how did you come about your completely unique approach?
AG: I agree completely that all fiction is crime fiction. Henry James is crime fiction, but instead of murdering each other quickly, they murder each other slowly, over hundreds and hundreds of pages. In Good as Gone, everyone (except possibly Jane, the little sister) has committed crimes of desperation by the end of the novel. The kidnapping is the biggest crime depicted in the novel, but the book is far more concerned with the longer-lasting violence of retraumatization, the way our harmful ways of thinking about sexual violence victimize the same vulnerable people over and over again. That’s why the structure of the book includes a backward chronology, diving into the past of the woman who calls herself Julie. Trauma rearranges time, it rearranges identity. The whole family has reordered themselves around it, and that, too, is a kind of violence.
MT: Before you stumbled upon crime fiction, who were your favorite authors? Now that you have found what I hope you feel is your true calling (I love your books so much I couldn’t live without them!) who are your favorite crime writers?
AG: Before my life of crime, I went through phases with James, Highsmith, Dostoevsky, Shirley Jackson, James Baldwin, Muriel Spark, Kate Atkinson, Kelly Link, Tessa Hadley, Jennifer Egan, and various others. In terms of crime novelists, the three writers you listed above--Abbott, Lippman, French!--are a holy trinity for me. Every new French book that comes out, I have to take several days off to celebrate. I’m also a huge fan of Sara Gran, whom I discovered relatively recently. I love short books that leave you completely gobsmacked and hers are so short but they feel like universes unto themselves.
MT: Megan Abbott loves your new book, and so do a whole lot of other people. Last Girl Standing is part Strangers on a Train, part Single White Female, part Steph Cha (I love her so much). My first question is an obvious one: why in this time period, with Trump, a wall, anti-Semitism, do you make your protagonist half Hispanic, half Jewish? I’m sure there are multiple layers of why the protagonist is who she is, and I’d love to hear about them.
AG: Yeah that’s a big question. One big thing is that I got called out on the Alex Mercado character from my first book, the P.I. character, not having a bigger role. Someone I quite respect said that he was one of the best, most likable characters in the book (agreed!) and wished he could have had a bigger role, suggested that it was disappointing that this Latino character didn’t turn out to be central to the story. I have often thought about using Mercado in future books, but I knew I would be writing female protagonists for the foreseeable future, and that question of whether they always had to be white, even though I live in Texas and my books were set in Texas where whiteness is far from the norm, nagged at me. Once I realized it was a book about a stand-up comic from Amarillo, I just felt that her character made sense as a non-Spanish-speaking Latina with a mixed ethnic identity, who struggles with feeling that she doesn’t fit in with either the mainstream comedy scene (read: white dudes) or the Latinx comedy scene in Austin--because she does’t speak Spanish and she’s not a dude. Dana is always stuck between two places (Austin/L.A.), two ways of seeing the world, two ways of coping with trauma. It’s a very binaristic book in that way. And it made sense that she would be biracial. Moreover, to talk about how women are marginalized in comedy in 2018 without some look, however compromised by my own subject position as a white woman, at the marginalization of non-white women in those fields--that just didn’t make sense to me.
As for how our current political climate factors into that--it’s hard for me to put into words, so I’ll quote Tori Amos: “Girl, you have to know these days which side you’re on.” It’s very much a book about choosing sides, even when that’s impossible.
MT: What book or books, and what movies, what TV shows inspired this book? One movie that comes to me is Heathers, except Christian Slater is a beautiful woman.
AG: Ha! That’s a point of reference I wouldn’t have thought of at the time but it’s very good. Of course LAST WOMAN STANDING is a straight-up, unabashed Patricia Highsmith rip-off--ahem I mean homage, with the doppelganger character from Strangers on a Trainappearing out of nowhere to represent and express all the repressed fury of the protagonist. But we saw what happened when I tried to do a Henry James homage, so no doubt my Highsmith homage turned out similarly warped.
MT: I’m assuming this novel was written at least a year of two ago—while when hatred was high, it wasn’t nearly as public and unashamed as it is now. Hatred is everywhere, and it seems you pick this racial and sexual hatred and bring it to the forefront. So, I’m wondering if you think of writers (including yourself) as sort of foreseers, people who can predict social climates, how things will be by the time they finish and publish their novels. It really feels like you’re a blind woman warning everyone about an upcoming war—which reminds me, Madeline Miller needs to write more too.
AG: The hatred you’re talking about--I think it’s very pragmatic. If you stay in your place, they will love you. When you don’t accept your position, the love turns to hatred instantly. A lot of women are writing about rage right now because we have all collectively decided not to accept this version of reality. But rage doesn’t feel good. Rage is a beautiful, terrible, righteous infection. It’s a last-resort response to an undeniable truth. The question is, how can we harness it without getting eaten alive by it? In this book I am trying like hell to answer that question, and I can’t. I just can’t. The answer for me, and I think for a lot of writers, was to channel the rage into writing a book. Not very helpful, but if what you have is a hammer, every problem looks like a nail. So I don’t think we’re seers--I think we just have the ability to get things into words that everyone else is thinking and, more importantly, feeling. Activists are out there yelling at people in restaurants. That’s probably more useful work than novel-writing.
MT: You are an English PhD, you review books, etc, so it seems obvious you would become a novelist eventually. Would you mind explaining your own adventure into writing novels, and would you ever write a story collection, crime or no (I would buy it!).
AG: I have written novels since I was a little kid, though I never finished one until senior year of college. After that, I thought I would become a novelist right away. I almost finished one, but I abandoned it at the critical two-thirds point. (That last act is still the hardest to write!) I was broke and I had to move back home. My mistake was in thinking that because I couldn’t figure out how to write a novel immediately while waiting tables in a strange new city, I needed to abandon it entirely for ten years. I went to grad school and started reviewing books because I did not know that being an author was actually a real profession where you could make money, and these other things seemed like more practical avenues for my talents. (They weren’t!) It was only when I had failed miserably at everything else, and was contemplating every passing whim for a possible profession--cake-decorating was on the list--that I started writing Good as Gone. I read all these corny self-help creativity books like The Artist’s Wayand The War of Art. And my husband, who was making payments on my student loans at the time, kind of talked me into it. I owe him a huge debt of gratitude for many things, but chief among them, he hooked me up with the woman who started my writing group. And that writing group is how the novel got written.
I have written only a handful of short stories in my life, and none of them are very good. I’d like to develop the skill someday, but I have a lot of novels to get through first.
MT: So, there are only so many things about Texas I love: you, Larry McMurtry, Jeff Abbott, this one vegan eatery called Bok Choy located in the hellmouth aka San Antonio, my wonderful and very favorite friend Melissa (please meet her during your tour in Houston!), Beyoncce and Solange and Tina, and there are a few more but I’m mostly forgetting. It’s one reason why I wonder why Dana, the protagonist of Last Woman Standing, would return home. The comedy scene is smaller, it seems, so maybe she has a chance. And maybe she gets a chance. I’m trying to be spoiler free but would you mind filling us in on just as much as you’d like readers to know on your delicious all-you-can-eat-butffet follow-up novel Last Woman Stnading?
AG: I love Texas, although it has been somewhat trying to live here as an adult woman who wants to have reproductive freedom. Growing up in Houston, I always thought I would get as far as I could, and I lived in Portland and Chicago and each time wound up coming back here. Austin, as Dana says in my book, is the Velvet Coffin. So incredibly comfortable. But there’s something about Texas, too, that’s very friendly and very open. It’s not just Austin that’s weird; Texas, too, is a very weird place. But I digress.
The reason Dana comes back to Austin is the same reason I came back to Austin twice: she feels she’s failed. Something happened to her in L.A., and it scared and shamed her, and she came home with her tail between her legs. Austin was home base. I’ve known so many performers who did stints in New York, L.A., and Chicago, and then came back home when the money ran out or the winter got too cold. Performing is such an intense career. You actually use your body to make your art. And you start feeling used up. Dana likes Austin a lot less than I do--she’s in a very challenging corner of it, in the stand-up world. But even the stand-up scene here is friendlier than in a lot of places. In a small pond, there’s a lot more collaboration. People don’t feel as threatened by eachother. And one of the things that’s happened in LAST WOMAN STANDING is that Dana left Austin right when the scene blew up, so it actually got bigger and more threatening while she was in L.A. She comes back, and it’s too competitive to feel comfortable, but still not a place where you can find creative jobs that pay. That’s a story I know all too well from performer friends.
MT: In college, my best friend Melanie said once that when she gets rich or marries rich she would like to form a vigilante squad of people who kill rapists. In a way, in the novel’s beginning, Last Woman Standingis somewhat about revenge against men, things that start small but escalate quickly. I don’t want to make you angry (I get angry when I think about this subject) so I won’t ask you what you think men who abuse women in any way should have to suffer through, but I will ask is if you agree with anything Dana and her new friend do?
AG: It’s one hundred percent wish fulfillment. I have revenge fantasies all the time. How can you not? If you’re sure--and, based on personal experience as well as volunteer work with survivors, I am sure--that nothing will happen to these people, that there will be no consequences for their crimes, how can you not want to get revenge? In writing the book I wasn’t interested in what the men deserved so much as what the women deserved. I felt that Dana and Amanda deserved their rage, their horror at what had happened to them. They deserved to have it acknowledged, that what happened to them was wrong. They deserved for there to be consequences.
MT: So as you know, and as I will tell our readers, I was blind from a botched surgery two months under a year since I had it and received my copy of Last Girl Standing. It performs miracles, people. I can see now! But other than that, it’s an amazing novel. Beyond amazing. What were your fears when writing a sophomore novel? And—I would like to stress this—this is not Good As Gone 2. This novel is something completely new and innovative, the voice as noir as Patricia Cornwell and as compelling as Megan Abbott. The dynamics of the relationships are reminders of Laura Lippman and the surprises and twists are as well executed as Alison Gaylin. But really, it’s all Amy Gentry. So how did you make such a unique sophomore novel?
AG: I cannot take credit for making a blind man see, but I’m so glad it helped in any way! In terms of writing a unique sophomore novel--time pressure had a lot to do with it. That sounds blasé, but actually it’s kind of a blessing to be forced to pick your first good idea and run with it. To work on this faster time-scale--and remember I was writing a nonfiction book at the same time, and by the way I actually I drafted a completely different novel, too, that I wanted to get out of my head but that wasn’t suitable for this contract--I had to summon everything I had learned in Good as Goneand boil it down to its essence. I scrapped fancy structures and alternative POVs and just concentrated on telling the story that scared me most--the story of a woman who lets go and becomes pure rage.
The one thing that helped me, structurally, was to develop the theme of doubles and doppelgangers throughout the book--not just Dana/Amanda, but also Dana and Betty, her stage alter-ego. There are a bunch more doubles throughout the book, but I would get into spoiler territory very quickly if I went there. That theme of mirroring made me want to use a 4-act structure, which is basically the same as a 3-act structure but it has a really strong central hinge that divides the book neatly in two. Once I figured that out, the book got easier to shape. It’s very much about passing through the looking-glass, seeing what life is like on the other side, once you’ve accepted that you live in a much darker world than you wanted to admit.
MT: I have to say, I’m so relieved that you, one of my favorite authors, did not succumb to the sophomore slump. Still, it’s hard to compare your two novels—they’re so different in every way possible. An interesting question that I’ve been juggling about in my mind (I’m not a good juggler) is how Megan Abbott, and many others, have become the leading writers and readers of crime fiction. What does it mean that women are now in control of the most violent, most destructive, but also most nuanced and interesting genre in literature?
AG: I think (and I bet Sarah Weinman would back me up on this) that they always have been. Big props to Gillian Flynn for reminding the world, with Gone Girl, that the domestic has always been the pulsing heart of noir. Go back and watch The Reckless Moment, directed by Max Ophuls in 1949. Watch Joan Bennett hide that body so that she can preserve the fiction of happy domesticity in a post-WWII world that just doesn’t make sense. God it’s so good! We’re in a world that doesn’t make sense right now, and we’re being told to pretend everything is normal and it just fucking isn’t. I think women have never had the luxury of ignoring the ugly truths that connect the personal to the political, and in this moment, our insights and our rage are very useful.
MT: There’s this idea of repressed memory, of forgiveness but by the end of the novel you’re not sure who you’re forgiving. It’s like the perpetrator—of many crimes against many different women—is wearing a mask. In the same way, Dana wears a mask when she takes on a role completely outside of herself while wearing a wig, a sexy blonde psychopath. Can you talk about the wig, the character she portrays, and without too many spoilers what this means?
AG: Many early readers have told me that Betty, the “sexy blonde psychopath” that Dana turns into when she puts this very trashy wig on, is their favorite character. (All I have to say is, you’re all very twisted.) Masks are very paradoxical, because they hide your face of course, but they also uncover or free forbidden parts of you. Think of all the trolling and abuse that came to the surface when people got to use avatars online. It’s not always evil, of course--theater people know that putting on a mustache or a costume of any kind can suddenly put you into a role in a way you could never quite be otherwise. Betty comes along at a time when Dana’s comedy feels very stale and rote to her, and unleashes this whole different side of herself she’s been repressing. Amanda starts that action going, of course, but it’s the Betty wig that tips the scales.
True story: the idea for using a wig came from one of my fellow waitresses at a long-ago restaurant job. She was very into vintage, which is already kind of a costume. One day she came to work with a haircut she didn’t like. To cover it, she wore a wig for about six weeks while it grew out. During those six weeks she developed a whole alternate personality named “Denise.” Denise was a nasty, bitchy waitress, and I enjoyed her thoroughly. But eventually my friend was really grateful to retire Denise. She thought she might have a hard time coming back to herself if she kept Denise in the picture much longer. Denise was just too much fun, and she was taking over. How could a novelist not file that away for later?
MT: What’s the best book you have read in a long time? On a similar note, and piggybacking on the Toni Morrison quote, do you feel you have written the book you’ve always wanted to read but have never been able to find? If not, can you give us a glimpse into what book that might be and when, if you decide to, you might be writing it?
AG: The Witch Elm by Tana French and Claire deWitt and the Bohemian Highwayby Sara Gran are two books that made me gasp--and cry--and feel really jealous. When I read both of them, I thought, “No fair! I didn’t know you could do that!” And although I talk about Highsmith all the time, I really wanted the tone of LAST WOMAN STANDING to be more like a Muriel Spark book--witty and nasty and weird. I don’t think I have succeeded, but I’ll keep trying. An excellent book is often a distortion of the author’s intentions rather than its perfect fulfillment. I hold onto that.
MT: Amy, I am so lucky to know you and have you as a friend. I know our readers are so glad to hear from you and get to peek directly inside your mind. You’re a genius. You know that. Feel free to leave any thoughts or anything below, and know how very much we love you and your work, and you’re welcome at Writers Tell All anytime. Thank you again, and I look forward to being haunted and thrilled by your next novel.
AG: I certainly do notknow that I’m a genius! But I feel lucky to have you telling me that I am. You’re so wonderfully supportive to the community, Matthew, and we’re all lucky to have you. Thanks for everything you do.
Jessica Barry on FREEFALL, an endless thrillride involving mothers and daughters who never quite have "the perfect life," but fight like hell to get there
Matthew Turbeville: Hi Jessica! I am very thrilled to talk with you. Freefallis a remarkable novel that somehow mixes James Patterson’s short, heart-thumping chapters with the grace of Jeff Abbott and sometimes the ever brilliant and impeccable Alison Gaylin. Before I really dig in here, what brought you to writing? How long did it take to write this novel and were you ever stumped by it? From what I have read this is your first novel (correct me if I’m wrong) and it’s really one of the most remarkable first novels for a suspense/mystery writer. What was it like writing from two (and sometimes three) points of view?
Jessica Barry: First of all, thank you so much for all your kind words about Freefall!
While Freefallis my first thriller, it isn’t my first novel – I’ve written a few women’s fiction novels under a different name. Writing this was a very different kettle of fish, though. I was stumped many, many times during the process – my poor agent read so many drafts she deserves a medal, and her response to most of them was: more plot, please. It took about two years from starting the first draft to finishing the last (I think it was the ninth) draft, and the learning curve throughout was steep. Writing from several points of view was challenging at times (particularly figuring out who knows what and making sure the timelines synch) but I really enjoyed switching between Maggie’s voice and Allison’s throughout the novel – it wouldn’t have been as satisfying a process had it been from a single POV.
MT: I can’t stress how much I love this novel and the characters. Both first person voices of the two primary female narrators are so spectacularly done. It’s rare to find a book with told from different first person POVs, and yet this novel does so effortlessly. What do you think the trick is to writing POVs like this, and my other question would be how did you decide to give the characters such complicated backstories, instead of what lesser authors might do—a simpler backstory to help push the suspense forward?
JB: Thank you! I think the main trick to writing first person is to get their voice in your head. For Freefall, Maggie’s voice came to me almost immediately – I’m originally from Massachusetts so grew up surrounded by tough, flinty New England women. Allison’s voice developed more gradually, as did her backstory – it felt at times like I had to pull it out of her!
I think that we all in our own way have complicated backstories, or at least view our own past in a way that isn’t necessarily linear, and I wanted to capture that here. Allison’s age also played a part in that decision – she’s in her early thirties, but her life is very much shaped by the decisions she made in her twenties, and that’s a time that many of us (myself definitely included) make mistakes or choose paths we later regret.
MT: You pull off so many “tricks” here, with stories that really entertain whether suspense driven or not, and you manage to balance suspense, story, plot, character, and so on without seeming to bat an eye. This had to have been a lot of work, and if it isn’t you must be a genius. Do you mind telling us how you managed to balance so many different elements of writing with this?
JB: Oh lord, it was so much work. The initial idea for the book was about a woman surviving a plane crash and wandering through the wilderness. That was pretty much it! The other elements took a long time to develop, and many, many drafts. The first few drafts were pretty low on plot – they mainly focused on the emotional struggles of the two main characters. I feel like at the end of each draft, I would figure out another element of the plot, or another twist, which meant I would need to go back and dig everything out again and rearrange. So it was definitely a long process!
MT: I’ve read that you work in publishing. Why did you choose to write a suspense/thriller novel, and who are the author who inspired you, and continue to inspire you? What book do you return to upon being stumped? If you have to pick any author, and maybe a thriller author as well, who do you feel has shaped you into he writer you’ve become today?
JB: I work as a translation rights agent at a literary agency in London, which means I have the pleasure of selling authors’ work to publishers around the world for translation.
I didn’t deliberately set out to write a thriller – I just had an idea and became obsessed with it. That said, I’ve always loved a good thriller. I think Dennis Lehane is a genius – I always go back to his books if I need to be reminded about what good dialogue looks like. I love Tana French’s ability to build atmosphere and character, and Laura Lippman’s novels are always great for complicated, intriguing female characters and clever plotting.
MT: Was there ever a time where you felt you might give up on FREEFALL? I know a lot of authors have different novels bouncing around their heads—were you ever tempted by other ideas? What kept pulling you back to the story?
JB: I threatened to throw my laptop out of the window more times than I’d care to remember when writing Freefall, not because I’d had a better idea but because I doubted that I could make the idea I had work the way I wanted. It was the idea itself that kept pulling me back to it. Ann Patchett has this great line in This is the Story of a Happy Marriageabout how, when a writer develops a story, it becomes this beautiful, perfect butterfly in her mind, and that pulling the story out of her head and putting onto the page involves slowly bludgeoning that butterfly to death. That’s what both made me want to give up and pushed me to keep going: the hope that maybe I could save some small part of the butterfly during the process.
MT: You don’t necessarily state it upfront, but this novel deals with so many current topics (and, really, topics that have been plaguing humanity for generations even if people have turned a blind eye). There are issues with emotional, mental, and physical abusive inside a relationship, there is corporate crime and the people who commit it, There are the people who believe that they can start over in all kinds of ways. And then there’s the idea that you can always return home (disagreeing here with Thomas Wolfe). What are the big themes and ideas behind this noel that kept you motivated, and what ideas do you really want to stress to this country?
JB: I’ve been obsessed with corporate malfeasance in the pharmaceutical industry since OxyContin opened the door for the current opioid epidemic, so I was definitely keen to explore the way in which companies that are theoretically meant to make us better can actually do a huge amount of harm.
But the main issues I wanted to explore are a little more broad. The first is complexity of mother/daughter relationships, particularly as that relationship evolves in the transition from childhood to adulthood. When we’re little, we think we know everything about our parents, and they know everything about us. The process of growing up is in some sense unlearning and relearning that relationship. That ties in with going home, too: I grew up in a small town and spent a lot of my adolescence dreaming about getting out into the big wide world. But spending a few years in the big wide world can sometimes make us look back on where we grew up in a different light.
I was also really keen to dig into the pressures placed upon women and how that influences the way we shape ourselves to fit the world we live in. Allison constructs a series of identities for herself based on who she needs to please: her parents, her peers, her creditors, and her fiancé. I know her version of this can be extreme, but it was a process I could relate to, particularly when I was in my twenties. Society expects women to be many things: ambitious-but-not-too-ambitious, thin-but-not-too-thin, ideally pliable, always beautiful. I wanted to explore some of the ramifications of these expectations, and also what happens when all of those expectations are stripped away from someone and they’re left only with their raw core.
MT: I’ve read that you work in publishing and are writing under a pseudonym. Can you tell us how this came to be? One of my oldest mentors, Julianna Baggott (another JB) writes under many pseudonyms, several on her own and then some with other people. What do you think is the appeal of writing under a pseudonym for most people, and what was the appeal of working under a pseudonym for you?
JB: The decision to use a pseudonym came from the switch in the genre in which I was writing. I published the women’s fiction novels under my own name, so it made sense to come up with a new pen name to mark the switch to thrillers for Freefall. Having written under both my own name and a pseudonym, I have to say I really enjoy the pseudonym! Writing is such an intensely personal process and having it published under a different name gives me a little extra layer of separation that I’m finding helpful.
MT: The twists keep coming in this book, although they never feel gimmicky or out of place. So many books simply stick in a twist for shock value, but you rarely do this. What do you think is the importance of having some really great twists, and more importantly what is essential for making these plot twists not feel like a trick of the hat but instead undeniably ultimate to the story?
JB: I guess I tried to make sure that everything that happens to the characters feels plausible. I love a good twist but only if it’s grounded in some semblance of reality – it can be really frustrating to be invested in a book and have the ending come completely out of left field. There’s always a level of suspended disbelief involved but I think you can only test those limits to a certain extent!
MT: Another mentor of mine, poet and novelist Jillian Weise, told me never to give the audience what they want. What are your thoughts on this and what are your approaches toward writing and how you write for or against readers’ wishes. Who do you feel the need to please? Your readers, your peers, yourself?
JB: I try to write books that readers will enjoy reading: that’s my primary goal. There’s always an amount of withholding an author has to do, particularly when writing suspense, but I think it’s a fine line between teasing out information and driving readers insane with a lack of it. Basically, I want to build a story that will keep them interested and entertained and keep them guessing until the end – without baffling them into submission!
MT: There’s the quote many people have attributed to Toni Morrison, although I’ve read variations on the quote in so many different places. She said something the along the lines of having to write the book you’ve always wanted to read but have never been able to find. Do you think you did this with FREEFALL or do you think this book is still to come? Would you describe or hint as to what this book may be like?
JB: Well, I’ve always wanted to write a book that featured strong female characters who were capable of saving themselves and weren’t reliant on a man to do the saving. Hopefully I’ve done that with Freefall!
MT: I don’t want to spoil too much, but the book definitely has a certain GONE GIRL vibe to me—although, to be honest, it’s completely different, which is a good thing. I love that the book doesn’t start off with “Allison had an absolutely perfect life,” etc, and that it doesn’t focus solely on the domestic thriller genre, which is so hot on the market right now. How did you decide not to take this route, instead giving both of the protagonists’ rocky pasts and how they fear for the future? What was so important for you to set yourself out from every other thriller writer out there?
JB: I think this ties in with my answer above. It was really important to me to write a book in which women weren’t portrayed as victims or unreliable narrators. Of course, there are lots of incredible books that use unreliable female narrators – GONE GIRL being one of them – but I wanted my female characters to be heroines in the traditional sense: clear-eyed and capable of saving the day. A lot of male-led thrillers feature arcs of redemption for their main characters, and I wanted to do the same for Maggie and Allison.
MT: You’ve gotten some really great blurbs from some really important writers recently. I do have to say, while I have been disappointed in so many writers’ recent books, yours is stunning. How do you feel that fame and acclaim has changed your life as opposed to the way it’s changed other novelists? Do you already have another novel in the works (and may we hear a bit about it, if so?).
JB: I still have a full-time job and am currently waiting for a load of laundry to finish in the washing machine, so my life hasn’t changed all that much so far! I’m super grateful for all of the support I’ve had from other writers and from my publishers and know that I’m extremely lucky to be in this position. I’m sort of expecting to wake up tomorrow and for everyone to shout JUST KIDDING in my face.
I’m currently about two-thirds of the way through a new novel. It’s about two women who are driving through the middle of the night across the desert for reasons that aren’t immediately clear, and who become the target of a seemingly-random road rage incident. Things escalate from there…!
MT: What are three really important habits you would choose to help future struggling writers with their writing and goals in the future? What do you think is the most important thing for an aspiring novelist to get to the place you are now, and the place so many other authors have worked hard to reach?
JB: The most important thing for any aspiring writer to do is to sit down in front of a computer (or notebook, or typewriter) and write. It’s also the most difficult. Even now, I spent so much time avoiding the act of writing. It’s often hard and tedious and unsatisfying and crazy-making. You will want to throw your laptop out of the window many, many times. But the only way to write anything – and the only way to get better at it – is to sit down and do it.
The second is to have faith in your ideas. If an idea comes to you and you feel like it’s a good one, hold on to it. Let it wander around in your head for a while and see where it goes. Write notes. When you feel the idea is ready, sit down and write and try not to be too discouraged by your initial attempts. It will get better.
The third is to keep at it. The first draft is usually junk. The second isn’t much better. There will be moments when you won’t want to look at the manuscript ever again, which are the moments you should stand up from your desk and take a shower or go for a run and then when you’re feeling less despairing, you should sit down again and try again (but don’t wait too long).
MT: I don’t want to go into specific to avoid spoilers, but there seems to be a switch in roles between a husband and wife characters. I won’t go into detail but I will ask—how do you approach gender as opposed to sex in this novel? It seems like you are offering the idea that gender roles are outdated, but I’d love to hear your spin on things.
JB: I’ve never been a huge believer in gender roles. The idea that women are meant to do x and men are meant to do y seems frankly insane to me. That sort of binary dynamic in a relationship feels toxic these days, and this is something we see play out in the novel.
MT: I really loved reading your book, Jessica. It was beyond phenomenal and I’m so excited to promote your book. To all of our readers, I highly suggest you pick up a copy of FREEFALL by Jessica Barry as soon as possible. Jessica, thank you so much and feel free to leave any remarks, thoughts, or questions below. I look forward to reading what you come out with next!
JB: Thank you so much! And thank you for asking such interesting, insightful questions – it’s been a real pleasure!
Henry James to James M. Cain: Vicki Hendricks Talks Noir and Crime Fiction, Obsession, Writing, and More
Matthew Turbeville: Hi, Vicki! It’s really great to get to interview you. You are such an important writer in the crime world, and I can’t believe I get the chance to pick your brain. Normally I start off easy with writers, opening with a fairly simple question, but from our brief correspondence as well as reading your novels, it’s apparent to me that starting off easy isn’t something you might want or need. You have been described by various authors, as well as bloggers and writers on websites, as one of the key luminaries in neo-noir. Most people believe that you—and perhaps solely you—are responsible for reinvigorating the genre. What do you think of this? Do you mind elaborating on your history with writing and your subsequent success?
Vicki Hendricks: I’m flattered that you think of Miami Purity as starting neo-noir. I’m not sure I can take credit, or if I was just in the first round to hit the publishers in the mid-90’s. Women’s noir has a long and delicious history, but since the death of Patricia Highsmith, true, there was a lull. Though, I didn’t know that at the time. I wrote Miami Purityin admiration of James M. Cain, as my thesis for a Master’s in Creative Writing at Florida International University. When the novel was published, I thought noirwas a fancy term for crime that my editor chose, in order to differentiate my content from mystery and detective. I always enjoyed crime movies, but I hadn’t read more than a bite of Jim Thompson, unless you include Harry Crews’s The Gypsy’s Curse, one of my favorite novels. The Postman Always Rings Twicewas recommended for me to read during the writing program, and I became enthralled with James M. Cain a year or two before I started Miami Purity. I have no history of writing before that, except for a few local magazine articles on lobstering, manatees, and food, and my thesis on Henry James for a Master’s in English. I wrote short stories in the F.I.U. writing program, but Miami Puritywas my first published fiction and my most successful, by far, if you consider success to be fame and fortune. Suddenly, I was a crime writer. I don’t believe it’s my best writing, but it got the most publicity, and that’s what counts for that definition of success.
MT: Throughout your life, whether through life experiences, the histories of family or friends, the media you’ve read and consumed in other ways too, what things have shaped you into the writer you are? People have described your writing as being both masculine and feminine at the same time, and similarly men and women both tend to really love your writing. What do you think of this?
VH: I doubt what I’m going to tell you really had anything to do with my writing, but when I was in high school, a horrendous murder took place in the house behind ours. The Bricca murder has never been solved. The parents and a two-year-old daughter were found stabbed multiple times, three days after they were killed. We, the neighbors, were all watching The Bridge Over the River Quaion TV for the first time that Sunday night when it occurred, and nobody heard anything. My mother woke me up Tuesday in the dark, for school, with the words, “The Briccas were murdered.” Their two dogs were in the house with the bodies all that time. The police searched a drain between our house and theirs for a weapon, but found nothing. I had cut through between that house and the one next to it numerous times to visit my friend, while they were in there. My friends and I used the murder as a reason to get a dog, and I never really thought about the effect on me otherwise. We got Schmeizer, a German shepard who was eventually volunteered for the Navy because he wouldn’t let the milkman or the mailman deliver to our end of the street.
Also, when I was seventeen, soon after my father had died, my mother used to wake me up in the middle of the night holding a loaded luger. We would search the house and then circle around the car in the garage in case a burglar was ducking down. Maybe that set me up to write suspense. I hadn’t connected anything like that until this moment.
Regarding subject matter, I hate research and there was no internet available when I started writing in the late 80s, so I stuck to things I knew, mainly adventure sports and sex. Since my books are mostly about sex and obsession, that kind of research is always easy to come by—or imagine. It’s circular, I think—interests and writing. Each stimulates the other. Writing gives living a purpose; it’s an excuse to travel to strange places, get to know weird people, and do unusual stuff. Writing allows you to write it off on your income tax, if you make money. What else can you do with all the details and theories you spend your life gathering? Now that I’m a senior citizen (Ack! Jeez.) I’m lucky to have the wild old days to draw from.
MT: What is your favorite book out of all the novels you’ve written? Why is this book your favorite, and what do you think it says about you as a writer and what do you expect readers to take away from it?
VH: Voluntary Madnessis my favorite of the noir novels. I want my readers to take away pleasure from my books. I’m sure when I was writing VM, I had some ideas that seemed worthwhile, maybe some questions to ponder, but I can’t remember, and I hate looking back at my writing. I have been told that I tend to focus thematically on control, or lack of control, but I never noticed that myself. VMhas a lot of strange characters drawn from real live Key Westers, eccentrics and bohemians, and I guess I wanted readers to get know these people and enjoy them the way I did.
MT: What do you think it means when articles say that you are a unique combination of masculine and feminine? Do you view noir—classic noir or neo-noir—as being a strictly masculine genre? Do you think it is limiting to women writers because of this description?
VH: I’ve always felt both masculine and feminine, not physically—although in my youth, I was muscular without trying, and in those days it was embarrassing—but in my thinking. Reading, I always identified with the male narrators and dreamed of adventure. I wanted to stow away on a freighter and get shipwrecked. It’s true, that my fiction has been considered “masculine” in the past. I’m not sure what that is, or if it is still true in the rapidly changing world of gender, but I can only think that in the 90s, I used strong language and did not shy away from subjects that could be considered indelicate. Also, my characters don’t think much about fashion or make up, but tend toward activities that attract more men than women, in general, or used to. My first reviewer questioned whether I was a man writing under a woman’s name, and a reviewer for Iguana Lovesaid that my main character—and tied me in as well—had the mind of a gay male because women don’t objectify men; only a man would do that. I think that’s absolutely crazy, and he was probably an old guy. Doesn’t everybody objectify people at times?
Patricia Highsmith was around when the label noirwas first defined, as well as many other women in her time period, so masculinity has little to do with it. Check out Sarah Weinman’s collection, Women Crime Writers of the 40s and 50sfor eight great noir novels. And lately noir has bloomed again with women writing noir that contains mystery. I’m not a fan of police and detective novels in general, but I love these stand-alone novels where the layering of dark atmosphere and complex characterization is much more interesting than whodunnit or a surprise ending. I recently finished Tana French’s The Witch Elm and I skipped reading most of the solution. I don’t care about those details. I love the atmosphere and exploration of family relationships leading back into the past. For most of the book, I wasn’t even sure the crime would be solved (except I knew it wouldn’t have been published without that) but I didn’t care because it was wholly delicious. I particularly like the de-emphasis of crime-solving I find in women’s novels, allowing the drama of relationships, the layering of subtext. And suspense, yes! the slow train-wreck. I eat that stuff up.
MT: What is your approach to writing? Are you a morning writer, an afternoon writer, an evening writer, or a nighttime writer? Do you write a certain number of pages or words a day, or do you tend to work for a number of hours a day instead?
VH: This will be bad news for anybody needing a good example. My approach has changed since I retired from teaching. At my most productive, I got up at 4:30 am, after grading essays until midnight, and wrote like crazy until 6 a.m., when I left for step aerobics class and then went on to teach for the day. Weekends I could get some sleep and spend the day writing—until I started skydiving and that was the end of my productive years. Now that I’m retired, I write whenever I get to it. Daily is the goal, but I don’t always get to it, and I stop writing for months at a stretch. I generally get started in late afternoon because: I have no idea! I’m usually going strong when it’s time to walk the dog and have dinner. But I love it when I look at the clock and think, wow, I’ve put in three hours! Then I feel good and make a salad because I’m starving. I can’t tell at that point whether I’ve written something I can use or plopped down pure shit, so time spent is my only measure of worth.
MT: What is your editing process like? How many times do you go through a book trying to make it perfect? Your books are often shorter, compact, tiny but with a strong punch. Are you the type of writer who tends to underwrite or overwrite?
VH: I rewrite and rewrite on the sentence level as well as the structuring level during the first draft and 7 or 8 drafts after that. I never sell a book in advance because I don’t do series, so I finish one and send it to an agent, and then I finish it again, and again, until the agent sells it, and then I rewrite for the editor. Even after the book is in print, if I have a reading, I edit live and hope nobody notices. I believe that every time you rewrite a novel, you are a better writer at the end, so then if you start over, you’ll have a better book, ad infinitum. Not a practical belief to follow, but I try.
I was told in a creative writing class that I tend to underwrite and it might be easier to write more and then cut, if necessary. However, I’m always afraid I’ll go on too long and bore someone. Obviously, I don’t worry about that in interviews.
MT: While researching for this interview, I read your books and they are absolutely fascinating, if not somewhat jarring with how intense and straight-forward they are. Laura Lippman and Megan Abbott have both cited you as influences. What were the risks and actions you took in order to pave the way for authors like Laura and Megan? Was there ever any backlash or conflict with either male writers, the media, reviewers, etc?
VH: I think I was a very minor influence, at most, and Megan and Laura didn’t need any paving for their paths. They’re both sweet and humble. I think my publisher was hoping for conflict and backlash in order to propel sales, but I never had any. Without the internet, it wasn’t so easy to cause a stir. A few places felt my novels were inappropriate for their library because of sexual content, and I got a couple letters to that effect. (People wrote letters in those days.) I never felt I was taking risks, except that my mother would see what I was writing and have a fit. Eventually, she did, and we both lived through it. On Miami PurityI got all wonderful reviews, or else those were the only ones forwarded to me. In later years, some bad ones turned up. My writing seems to inspire high emotions in one direction or the other, no middle ground.
MT: What is your favorite part about writing a new novel? How do you begin a novel, and where does the idea come from? How does it develop—slowly over time or suddenly all at once?
VH: I love starting a novel. There’s so much excitement in writing that first page when a character pops into your head, and everything is open. Creativity can go wild. The idea, for me, develops from one sentence to the next. Sometimes, I add a gesture to break up the dialogue and it tells me where to go after that. I think this sort of thing is what people mean when they say their characters take over the story. Of course, the farther you get, even on the first page, the more you lock yourself into a voice, a time, an inevitable ending. The page will change many times, but you don’t realize that immediately, and writing is actually fun! Then the next day or even later that day, you look at it and say, Shit! this has to go and that has to change, and you find yourself gnawing on the words that sounded perfect just a short time ago. It only gets worse after that, especially when you have to start gathering everything together in the middle in order to make it end. It would feel so good just to keep expanding, but that leads to disaster. I’m reminded of that early series Lost that I somehow became hooked into. Those guys had a wonderful time expanding the possibilities to infinity, and it just got worse and worse because you realized it could never be resolved. It just dribbled away.
I’m inspired by people mostly for novels. Someone I meet, or hear about, demonstrates unusual tendencies or desires. In search of information about my newly acquired iguana, I met a woman who was obsessed with her deceased iguana, which gave me a voice for Iguana Love. In addition, there was the warning in the iguana pet guide: “An iguana will never return your love.” That reality became the backbone of the novel.
I tend to work well by studying the tip of the iceberg and imagining the rest. For short stories, it might be an event that stimulates my imagination.I’m always trying to be original, so when I hear of something bizarre, I want to work with it, figure out possible motives, take the mystery out of life, or at least, provide a theory. For example, I heard on the news that a rapist in Miami was targeting paralyzed women, assaulting them orally. One victim woke up during the act. Many people would rather not delve into that, I’m sure, because of the disgusting nature of the crime, but I started scratching my head and conjecturing something more complex than the motive of easy prey. Around that time, I was asked for a noir cat story for a collection, and I thought, jeez, can I do it? Put those 2 elements into a story together? A fanciful cat story about rape . . . oxymoronic and sure to get me into trouble. It took me over a year, but “The Good Cat” eventually came out of it. So far, I haven’t been in any trouble.
MT: What about Florida do you feel screams “noir”? There is obviously a lot of rough elements about Florida, from the crime rate in various cities to the nature and also just the general population. I lived in Tallahassee for a while and from what I understand, it’s considered one of the tamer cities in the state. What makes Florida such a great setting for your novels?
VH: I guess my last example screams noir more than anything else I can think of. The rough elements, the drug deals, the murders, the police work, none of these really interest me because they’re common everywhere. I’m not sure if Florida is special for noir or dark writers just congregate in sunny places. I’m not sure you were told correctly about Tallahassee. Where I live now, an hour east of Orlando, it’s tame, unless you fear snakes, armadillos, bears, raccoons, and coyotes, but there’s no problem finding human nature at its lowest anywhere you go. You can’t move away from yourself, I noted, when I first met some Florida transplants, but there are millions of people trying to leave themselves behind. These are the folks who inspire me.
MT: Would your novels be any different in this decade, or in this year? How would you change the books if at all, and why would you change them if you did?
VH: I would rewrite every one of them to make them better. I haven’t had the luxury of time until I retired from teaching, and now, I don’t know where my time goes, as we all say. I know I spend too much of it on door service for cats! Is anyone ever happy with his or her final product? But maybe I would just mess the books up, at least in some ways. I certainly don’t have the ambition or energy for all that work. I look back and marvel at how I ever wrote those novels and stories while teaching five classes and grading compositions, and skydiving and scuba diving, sailing and adventuring . . . I can’t complain, can I?
MT: I love how blunt and upfront and unashamed the women in your novels are often presented as being. This seems like such an amazing and compelling reason to read your books—especially considering most aren’t considered recent publications, but foundation for all the noir to come. How do you feel the crime genre is shaping out—especially for women—when you changed things publishing these straight forward novels years ago, and now the genre is filled with seemingly perfect women in domestic thrillers, characters so different from the ones you created?
VH: Women’s crime, which is really everybody’s crime, is wonderful these days. I love what’s in between the murder and violence, and that’s what women do best, fill in all the subtleties of personality and motive. My straightforward style leaves out much of what I enjoy. Like I said, I’m always in a hurry, but luckily people like you read my short books and have allowed me to continue getting them published. If I can ever get the next one finished, I hope that’s still true. But I have to say that my writing career far surpassed my dreams years ago.
MT: What are the novels that most shaped your work? When you look back on your career so far, what novels or authors or, really, anyone or anything was most important in affecting how you viewed the world and how you shaped the worlds within your novels?
VH: I read all of James M. Cain, Harry Crews, and Charles Bukowski, so I suspect they were my major influences. What a world they shaped inside my head, right? Of course, I read Patricia Highsmith’s Strangers on a Train, and it has always been one of my all-time favorite crime novels, but I don’t know if I was influenced by her. I didn’t learn about other women crime writers until after I became one myself. I had no idea I was going to do that, or I would have definitely read more in the genre. I caught up late in my writing career.
MT: What do you think is important about noir in general to the world we live in today? What do you think is important about your noir and your novels in to the world today?
VH: I’m sorry to say that I can’t think of any reason why noir is important, but you can probably convince me if you have reasons.
MT: Is there another Vicki Hendricks masterpiece coming our way? We can all hope and wish—if you can give us any hope, would you mind telling us if you have another book in the works and, if so, would you mind hinting at what it might be about?
VH: Considering my lack of discipline lately, it might be so far in the future that I don’t want to set up expectations. I have about half of a rough draft, and I think it might be horror blended with science fiction, mingled with sex.
MT: Vicki, thank you so much for taking the time to answer some of my questions and let me pick your brain. It’s been so wonderful to correspond with you and get to know you, and also so amazing to read your fiction and revisit it time and time again. I normally make this offer for any author, but I feel it’s especially important to you, for I know you likely have so much to say in general—would you mind leaving us with any thoughts, suggestions, remarks, conclusions, or questions? And thank you so much again.
VH: Just recently, a woman pointed to my head and said, “I wouldn’t want to live in there.” But I’m sure she was kidding.
Matthew Turbeville: Hi Rosalie. I really loved you book Who is Vera Kelly, and not just because I read it following a week-long binge of all of The Americans. I am curious about where the original idea came from, what sparked your interest in this subject and time period, and why you think it’s so timely today?
Rosalie Knecht: Thank you, and I hope your psyche hasn't been completely destroyed by that show. I started with the idea that I wanted to write a spy novel, and the Cold War heyday of the genre appealed to me. I think there's a feeling of freedom that you get from creating a little distance from the present moment, which allows things to unfold in a less self-conscious way. On some level I was inspired by the fact that my maternal grandfather, whom I never met because he died in an accident in 1961, worked for the CIA.
MT: How long did it take you to write your first draft of Vera Kelly? What continued to draw you back to it, despite all of the writer’s efforts—all of our efforts—to avoid the idea of fear or failing? I know myself I have avoided revisions plenty of times just because I was afraid the revised work would, in turn, be rejected.
RK: I honestly can't recall how long the first draft took, because drafts always have blurry boundaries for me, but I can tell you that I started the novel in February 2012 (because I always put the month and year at the top of the document when I open it, a practice I recommend, because you will forget otherwise) and sold it to Tin House in June 2017. That makes it lightning fast compared to my previous book, Relief Map, which I started in November 2007 and sold, also to Tin House, in December 2014.
I think everybody's afraid both of rejection and of putting immense effort into something that other people may never see. The only way to maintain the motivation to continue, I think, is to feel that the process is the reward. The actual experience of writing the book is the only guaranteed return. You have to be having a good time.
Also, there's another way to look at the rejection part. Our lives are riddled with rejection, but as I said to a friend once when I was having a hard time in some basic ways-- romantically, financially, professionally-- the thing about writing is that it can't break up with you or evict you or fire you. You can't get kicked out of it. It's yours for as long as you want it.
MT: What are the books, the movies, the stories, the television shows, anything really that inspired you to write Vera Kelly? Were there any books or authors in particular your returned to for renewed interest, either because of frustration with writing and being in between drafts, or to motivate you to keep writing?
MT: Did you ever have any problems finding a publishing house for Who is Very Kelly, and if you’re being entirely honest, what aspect of the book made it hardest to be published and what about the book finally convinced publishers, in your mind, to produce it for the world to read?
RK: I published WIVK with the same publisher as my first book, so it wasn't hard to find a publisher per se, but it was hard to find that publisher for my first book! And I can imagine that if I didn't already have a relationship with a publisher, and if Tin House wasn't such a profoundly cool place, that the book would have been a pretty hard sell. It is, after all, a novel about a spy that's paced like a literary novel and focused on relationships, all of which I thought would baffle and irritate people. But I couldn't help it, that was the book I wrote.
MT: How much research did you do before writing the book? I’ve heard different arguments on research from very different writers—those who want to research as much as possible before writing, and those who believe you research essential things as you go, and fact check later. What was the researching experience for Vera Kelly like for you?
RK: I got a subscription to the New York Times so I could have access to their digital archive, and I read about the coup in books and online, and I read some spy novels and went back to some Argentine novels I had read in college to be reminded of how things feel and smell, little things. Compared to Peron years and the Dirty War of the 1970s, there is little research readily available about what happened in 1966, so I had to dig and mostly focused on a few key details. A reader from Argentina recently wrote to me with some anachronisms and mistakes in the book, which was amazing to see, although tragically too late to fix them! I completely whiffed the exchange rate, for example, which wasn't how I depicted it until 1970.
I've heard from other writers that research can be a black hole you fall into, since everything is so fascinating if you dig a little. You can spend forever on it and end up avoiding writing your actual book. But on the other hand, you don't want to represent a time and place that isn't yours and do so in a sloppy way. I've been relieved that, details aside, the Argentine readers I've heard from have said that the Buenos Aires in the book felt familiar to them. Even if I did feature a color television in it, and Argentina had no color TV broadcast until the 1978 World Cup. Well, now I know.
MT: In your mind, what is the answer to the novel’s question, Who is Vera Kelly?—in whatever way you choose to respond to it?
RK: She's a person who wants to be left alone.
MT: Do you view Who is Vera Kellyas a largely crime novel? If not, and I know this is so limiting for such a strong and incredibly complicated book, how would you define it in terms of genre? Who were the people you wanted to target when writing the novel? I know a lot of authors, including myself, want to target “everyone” upon initially beginning and finishing a novel, but eventually who did you or your editor or agent or publisher or who have you want you to limit the audience down to?
RK: I didn't really have an audience in mind, and although I was calling it a spy novel, I knew it wasn't paced or constructed like a traditional spy novel. I think you just have to do what you're doing and hope an audience finds it. I just wanted to write something that I would like to read.
MT: Did you know how you wanted to end the novel from the very beginning? Would you mind going into some detail about your writing process and how novels and stories and ideas take form for you on the page?
RK: Oh my God, not at all. I never do. I usually start with one element-- in this case, the idea of spies; in my last book, it was the setting. I can usually only think about fifty pages ahead. At some point the ending falls into place, but I generally don't know how I'm going to get there until I actually write the pages.
MT: Rosalie, I do have to ask for the rest of our staff as well as those readers who have loved Who is Vera Kelly—what’s next for you? Do you have another novel as a work-in-progress? We’re all very hopeful get more from you soon.
RK: I'm hoping for a Vera Kelly trilogy. I have somethings I want her to sort out. I'm working on the second one now.
MT: Rosalie, thank you so much for taking the time to talk to me about your writing and about Who is Very Kelly. This was a phenomenal book that I will continue to recommend to any and every one. Do you have any thoughts, suggestions, comments, or questions you’d like to leave us with? Feel free to say anything—and, again, thank you Rosalie!
RK: Just-- thanks for reading!
Matthew Turbeville: Hi, Aimee. I have been such a big fan for so long. My first experience with your luck was reading Girl with the Flammable Skirt, a book I love so much but have to keep buying year after year, since many friends have “borrow” my copies pretty permanently. I wanted to discuss—before getting into detail about specific works—what your writing process is like. How many hours do you spend a day or week writing? Do you have word limits or goals? Do you write in a linear fashion or jump around a lot? Tell us how writing works for you!
Aimee Bender: Hi, Matthew! Thank you. I love hearing that about the borrowed books.
I’ve long been a big believer about time limits for writing—can point you to some pieces re that if you’d like, as I think about it all the time: http://www.oprah.com/spirit/writing-every-day-writers-rules-aimee-bender
These days I do 1.5 hours in the morn, and one hour in the evening on Mondays. The stricter the better. Jumping around, once in that strict time structure, is just fine.
MT: I really love your stories, and I’ve also really loved your novels. Your most recent novel was The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake. It’s such a unique and innovative concept. Can you start by explaining how you came up with the idea for the book? Also, while I don’t necessarily believe in giving all books labels, what would you categorize Lemon Cakeas being—both age levels and genre-wise?
AB: Let’s see. I think of Lemon Cake as adult fiction, literary, with some magic in it, but I’m fine with however others think of it. It won an Alex Award, which was unexpected and nice to get, which meant it was approved for readers 12 and up, and that was good, too—I’m happy when teenagers read it and find a home in it. But I also love it when they read it with their mom or dad and then the adult gets in there too.
The idea for the book is harder to track—one route was a friend of mine that always refers to feelings as something to ‘digest’; another piece was a composer who asked me to write on the seven vices, including gluttony, which led to a character that sounded a bit like Rose, and mostly just the daily wandering around on the computer until something starts to have some motion in it.
MT: Sometimes, I feel like you’re honestly at your best writing from a first person POV. How do you establish the voice of each character, and how do you make the novel so intimate and candid as you do? Every book and story feels like you’re opening the door for a new universe and allowing readers in.
AB: So glad to hear it! I love first person. I love reading it, love writing it. I find third very tricky, which is why I lean toward the fairy tale third person which has quite a bit of distance in it. Voice tends to just arrive, but there are many voices that fizzle, so it’s more about trying a lot and failing at a lot before arriving at something that works.
MT: When you were younger, what were your favorite books? What have been your favorite books in recent years, and what books do you feel have had the greatest impact on your literary career? Are there any modern authors—story writers or novelists or otherwise—who have had great impacts on your writing?
AB: I read a lot when I was little, and I’m a mom now and revisiting some of my favorites has been wonderful: William Steig’s Sylvester and the Magic Pebble, and E.B. White’s Stuart Little, where the prose is just crystal clear, and soon Julie Andrews’ The Last of the Really Great Whangdoodles, which has the best ice cream machine ever. I recently read my children Ozma of Oz (Baum) and was amazed and a little embarrassed to see how much those books have leaked their way into my writing. There are many current books thrilling me—there’s an abundance of riches these days. I just finished and learned so much from the Rachel Cusk trilogy. Adored the voice in Sour Heart, Jenny Zhang’s collection. I reread Marilynne Robinson’s Housekeeping during the election ramp up and it was the only thing I found soothing: the careful articulation of daily activities as a way to get into worlds beneath the world. Soon to read Victor LaValle’s The Changeling, and he is a usual favorite of mine. So weird and resonant.
MT: When was your first publication? How old were you, and is this a publication that is collected in one of your collections or is it something that you have steered away from? I know many authors tend to—not necessarily feel ashamed—but perhaps turn from their earliest work as it is extremely raw and unrefined. What do you feel is most important for potential future writers when dealing with publication?
AB: Oh, I have to say I do feel annoyed when writers diss their earlier work. It still counts. And it usually met some readers. I just think we don’t really need to be critics of ourselves so publicly that way—it’s not our job. My very first pub was a tiny magazine in San Diego that took a story as an undergraduate, but it had one issue and never did anything again. The first “real” one was “The Threepenny Review,” a Berkeley literary journal as encouraged by a teacher, the wonderful Jane Vandenburgh, and I was shocked and amazed to get that thing in print. And then I thought it would be easy after that, which it was not! It was a story called “Dreaming in Polish” that was in Flammable Skirt but does feel different than many of the other stories in that book. It came from an earlier era, where I was thinking more while writing. Now I try to think as little as possible.
MT: I’ve been witnessing the literary culture grow and change over the years. Do you feel that women and other marginalized people are finally taking a strong stance in the scene, or do you think full representation still has a long way to go for most marginalized people?
AB: I do see a change. A really important change in that representation is at the forefront of so many literary discussions now. There’s always a ways to go, but I think it’s on people’s minds and the amount of good material out there to find and to teach is stunning and very exciting.
MT: What is the highest praise you feel you’ve received for a work of fiction? Are there any negative remarks that you’ve been really hurt by—or even inspired by, hopefully pushing you forward in an effective way, even as an act of defiance?
AB: Fun to think of. Highest praise—I think when someone returns to a book, and when I feel it really got under their skin and lives with them, becomes part of them. I don’t want to feel like the work gets read and then is over. I want it to linger, and for someone to be moved and impacted, even if it’s unclear why or how. Early on, I felt really vulnerable to all reviews and would sit and deconstruct them with a couple key friends which helped. Now it’s a little easier, though still nerve-wracking, of course. I still want someone to catch the ball I threw.
MT: You haven’t released a book in several years. Of course, there are authors that release books every 1-2 years, and some authors—for example, Donna Tartt—who only release books every ten years or more. What is your next book going to be like, and how do you feel it will be different from previous works?
AB: I’m working away on a novel, and it has short chapters in a way that is a bit new for me, and a kind of distilled quality, I think, but it also circles around some similar themes because I have my treasure chest of preoccupations which does not seem to change!
MT: What’s the most astonishing reaction you’ve had by a fan? I’m assuming you have quite a dedicated fan-base, simply looking at my own friends and how quick they are to say “We never borrowed that book!” or “I’ll try and find it.” (Side note: Got both these responses from one friend, and when at her house and in her bedroom one day, saw it lying plainly on a shelf as if she’s in the middle of reading it—I decided to let it slide. I could get another copy. She needed this book.)
AB: (love hearing this btw!)
MT: Given today’s political climate, what is the one book or collection or story you’d recommend Americans and other humans to read? What would you recommend to our president—if possible, both one of your own works, and a work by someone else you highly value or covet?
AB: I lean toward poems as resources for us all—and the news cycle is so intense and so wearing that to spend some time with something small and intense and beautiful and made with such care seems helpful. I’ve been reading Terrance Hayes’ new book, and Wislawa Szymborska. But that same impulse is also bringing me back to Marilynne Robinson, for similar reasons. Anti-impulsiveness. True consideration of human experience, loss, beauty.
MT: What genres do you prefer not to go near? What are books you don’t care for, or simply cannot stand? What books have you found yourself surprisingly drawn to, and what book would readers find strangest to discover influenced your own work?
AB: There isn’t one! Because it’s all about voice and language and I’ll read anything at all if told in a way that feels fresh and interesting.
MT: What is the hardest book or story you’ve ever had to write? I remember Annie Proulx stating it took her twice or so as long to write “Brokeback Mountain” as an actual full-length novel? Have you ever completely given up on a work?
AB: Yes—I gave up on a novel about a teenage boy who was acting out left and right and the voice had some merits but the narrative drive was really, really not working. One story in The Color Master, called “Faces” was pillaged from that novel.
MT: Finally, what advice do you give in general—based on things we’ve discussed, or otherwise—to promising new writers, up-and-comers, etc, on how to tackle writing, and the best ways to go about finding their own voice and their own style of writing?
AB: There’s the writer who is you, and the writer you are pretending to be, and in my mind, finding out the writer who is you is a better route, will lead more clearly to voice. I ask my classes to write on a subject about which they know a lot, a kind of expertise. But not necessarily a proud expertise. What do they really know about? Barbecuing, celebrity dating profiles, their mother’s rules (which is essentially why Jamaica Kincaid’s “Girl” is so great), etc, and from that, see what shows up. Nothing shallow will remain shallow if pored over with care.
MT: Thank you so much for talking to me, Aimee. It’s been a pleasure—and fantasy, honestly of mine, ever since I was younger. I am really looking forward to whatever work you do next, and am constantly on the lookout for new writing of yours. If you have any other thoughts, commentary, suggestions, or wisdom, please let us know!
AB: Thank you so much!
"[Flavia] is whispering to me even as we speak": An Interview with the Brilliant, Incomparable Alan Bradley
Matthew Turbeville: Hi, Alan! It’s so nice to get to talk with you about your wonderful series of
novels revolving around your character Flavia de Luce. First, I wanted to ask, what came first
for you? The ideas of the books or the characters like Flavia? It’s always interesting to see the
author mould the story around a character, or create a character who fits into the story.
Alan Bradley: The idea of writing a mystery came first, although in the end, I never did complete the book I was planning. Flavia sauntered onto the page and hijacked my story lock, stock and plot. She brought the characters and settings with her. I didn’t have a chance.
MT: Flavia is such a brilliant, alive character. I have a lot of friends who are big fans. She’s
Nancy Drew but for adults, so much dark humour and general darkness it’s like entering a new
world when you write about her. How hard is it to get into Flavia’s mind when you are writing?
AB: It’s not hard at all. Flavia is always there, champing at the bit, just waiting for me to sit down at the keyboard so that she can occupy my hands and make herself heard.
MT: Flavia is such a specific girl. She starts off a young girl who wants to study Chemistry and
ends up studying the murders of dead people—solving their deaths, these crimes, with these
incredible skills. How did you decide who Flavia is, as well as her voice, and decide upon how to
really make Flavia a person herself. How do you decide about these brilliantly unique murders?
and do you think Flavia grows throughout the series?
AB: I can take no credit for Flavia. She appeared on the page – “jumped out of the inkpot” as they say – fully formed. I sometimes think that she might have been waiting centuries for someone with a suitably quirky mind. With each book, I have settled upon the unique theme (obsessive stamp collecting, curious religions, gypsy caravans, etc: something which will grip my interest long enough to write a book.) Turned loose within these frameworks, Flavia seems perfectly at home, and goes whizzing off in all directions. I had to learn touch-typing to keep up! And thanks to my beloved wife, who taught me.
MT: Before Flavia and success, how long did it take you to get a book published, and how long
before you felt you were successful, which has different meaning to different people?
AB: Although I had collaborated on an earlier book (Ms. Holmes of Baker Street) my first published book was The Shoebox Bible, a memoir of my mother. I don’t remember having any particular problem getting it published. I emailed the manuscript to an agent and received a blank contract the next morning. It was sold very quickly, with several publishers bidding for the rights. The first Flavia book, The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Piewon the Debut Dagger Award from the CWA (Crime Writers’ Association) in the UK. It was only when I flew from Canada to London to accept the award at a black-tie event in Park Lane and found that the book – and the subsequent series - had been sold in three countries on two continents (and later, thirty-eight!) that I began to realize how widespread was the readers’ love for Flavia de Luce. The most oft-occurring word in my mail and email is “love”, for which I am eternally grateful.
MT: What was the toughest book to write, and why was it a struggle? Was there ever a Flavia
book you nearly gave up on, or did you fight through no matter what?
AB: The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie was likely the toughest, because I hadn’t written a mystery before. I vividly remember my forefinger hovering above the ‘send’ button of the final draft – then stopping to change a word, a phrase…and then another…and another…and another. It was long after midnight before I got up the gumption finally to send it on its way. The book was written in the wake of a tragic forest fire, which we survived, but not unscathed. Several of the other books were written under trying circumstances, and only now do I begin to realize what a balm they were at the time to the soul. I hope this passion comes through to the reader.
MT: What was your favourite mystery? Who are your favourite characters? We certainly come
AB: My own personal favourite mystery is Dorothy L. Sayers’s The Nine Tailors. Exquisite! If I may indulge in one long answer, consider the following:
“The bells gave tongue: Gaude, Sabaoth, John, Jericho, Jubilee, Dimity, Batty Thomas and Tailor Paul, rioting and exulting high up in the dark tower, wide mouths rising and falling, brazen tongues clamouring, huge wheels turning to the dance of the leaping ropes. Tin tan din dan bim bam bom bo--tan tin din dan bam bim bo bom--tan dan tin bam din bo bim bom--every bell in her place striking tuneably, hunting up, hunting down, dodging, snapping, laying her blows behind, making her thirds and fourths, working down to lead the dance again. Out over the flat, white wastes of fen, over the spear-straight, steel-dark dykes and the wind-bent, groaning poplar trees, bursting from the snow-choked louvres of the belfry, whirled away southward and westward in gusty blasts of clamour to the sleeping counties went the music of the bells--little Gaude, silver Sabaoth, strong John and Jericho, glad Jubilee, sweet Dimity and old Batty Thomas, with great Tailor Paul bawling and striding like a giant in the midst of them. Up and down went the shadows of the ringers upon the walls, up and down went the scarlet sallies flickering roofwards and floorwards, and up and down, hunting in their courses, went the bells of Fenchurch St. Paul.”
It simply doesn’t get any better than that.
Of the Flavia mysteries, they are all my favourites, but for different reasons: the restoration memories, beliefs, friendships, mentors, and near-forgotten joys.
MT: What do you think is so important about writing mysteries and, for an adult audience, what
about Flavia being a child and solving mysteries do you think resonates with them?
AB: Everyone has been a child, and everyone can identify with the trials and tribulations of being a child. I firmly believe that all of us retain shards of childhood within us, some more and some less than others. Flavia appeals to whatever remnants of youthful idealism, of enthusiasm, of truth and justice lingers in our core. It is this which has kept me going till eighty.
MT: Can you talk about the journey Flavia has taken throughout her life in these books? Which
books or parts of books do you think showed her most, and where do you think Flavia was most
AB: Flavia gradually reveals herself only gradually, book by book. In The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie, which is set in the summer of 1950, she is almost eleven. Ten books later, in The Golden Tresses of the Dead, she is a couple of years older, and there is a detectible difference in her outlook. As an avaricious learner, she has taken on board a frightening amount of practical and philosophical knowledge. It worries me sometimes that the adults around her don’t realize how truly dangerous she might well be.
MT: What do you think makes Flavia so interesting to fans? She’s a blooming chemist, a
detective, a young girl—and how did you make the part of her being so young work so well in
the books? Other people might discredit a novel based on the age of the character.
AB: I’ve heard that criticism, and all I can say is “Barn-liquorice!”Anyone who underestimates the intelligence of an eleven-year-old girl is living with their eyes and ears glued shut. Some of the most brilliant individuals I’ve ever met have been eleven-year-old girls. Any girl of that age – or boy, for that matter - possesses naturally all the attributes required of a great detective: intelligence, keenness, curiosity, acute senses, and the great advantage of being completely invisible to adults – if she or he wishes: and Flavia does.
MT: Looking back on the series so far, what was your favourite book to write? Did you always
have the mysteries and the books mapped out or do you think on them and write as it come to
you? Either way, you do it fast—sometimes, you put out a book a year!
AB: As above, The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie was the most consuming, partly because of the amount of research required and partly because I was a mystery neophyte. I knew about halfway through that there was a much longer story in progress: that I could not possibly squeeze it all into one book. At first, I thought there would be three volumes…then six…then ten. I’ve just completed the tenth, and Flavia still wakes me up in the middle of the night with strange snippets and intriguing insights.
MT: What is the greatest writing advice—editing, revising, writing—that you’ve ever received
and how do you think it changed the way you write? Would you mind sharing it with our
AB: These elements are all equally important. I revise constantly as I write: a word here, a paragraph there, mostly the recasting of sentences to make them more graceful; to force them to flow more gracefully. Over the years, I’ve received many bits of writing advice from professionals, but the one which sticks forever in my mind was given me by the Governor General’s Award-winning poet, Anne Szumigalski, who once told me: “Just because it happened doesn’t mean you have to put it in.” Over the years, she saved me more grief than I knew. Bless you, Anne!
MT: Do you think you’ll have a set number of books for the series? How many mysteries will
Flavia solve before the series is over? And do you think the ending will be big and epic?
AB: I don’t think that Flavia or I will ever run out of ideas. She’s whispering to me even as we speak. Like life, I don’t think we can never know the ending. The great thing is not to worry about it and enjoy what we have and what we have done.
MT: The Grave’s a Fine and Private Placeis the most recent Flavia book. Do you mind
telling us about this book, and after almost ten Flavia books, how you feel you writing has
changed, Flavia has changed, and maybe even your life has changed?
: The tenth book, The Golden Tresses of the Dead, will be published in January. Having now written nearly a million words of the series, I’m beginning to feel I’m getting the hang of it. My wife, whose opinion I treasure, tells me that I’m a better writer than I was ten years ago. “Gee, thanks!” I think, but I know she means it honestly. My life has certainly changed since I sat down to write that first book: it couldn’t be more different. The main difference? The lovely people I’ve met.
MT: Can you tease us with what your next book will be about? Where will we find Flavia next?
AB: The Golden Tresses of the Dead (January, 2019) brings us (at last!) to sister Feely’s wedding day. As expected, there’s much ado in the village of Bishop’s Lacey as a corpse – or at least parts of one – turn up at the wedding feast. Before you can say “Pass me the poison”, Flavia and Dogger are on the case.
MT: Thank you so much for agreeing to talk with us, Alan. It was more than a pleasure, and we
at Writer Tell All as well as a lot of our readers are big fans. Please do let us know if you have
any thoughts or lingering comments you’d like to get out! Thank you again!
AB: Thanks, Matthew, for the opportunity to talk about Flavia. She is quite chuffed to think that she’s going to be mentioned on Writers Tell All. Our best regards to readers near and far.