there is other magic

Thinking about this new book, HONEYBONES. It’s a book that has driven me in strange ways. By which I mean, it’s a book that has insisted on itself. No compromises.

The story had been haunting me for a long time, a decade or more. I’d attempted it a few times, but it never seemed to work out. For quite a while I called it ‘The House of Mirrors’. It was about something – fairytales, crows, a house – but I couldn’t really make sense of it. I spent a lot of time dreaming about the book. I wrote in mirror-writing, inside out.

I can’t remember now quite how I came up with the idea of ‘dreeming’ and Dreemy Peeple. I know it started with the dolls, the creepy dolls Anna finds in the bedrooms of her stepdad’s house. It was the brand name, stamped into their plastic casing. Then, somehow, the dreem took on a life of its own. I worked it out in various short stories that ended up in my collection, THIS HOUSE OF WOUNDS. (There’s an oblique reference to THOW in HONEYBONES – a million dinosaurs to anyone who spots it!) And finally, it started to bring forth this story.

Other things which didn’t seem quite to fit anywhere at first, like an exercise in ventriloquism from the cully king (himself a character from a much earlier story, CROW VOODOO), and then all these songs and bits of plays and other books – they all swirled about this girl, this house, this dreem. I cut 20,000 words. I cut another 20,000. When I had something that looked passingly like a story, I called it done. And – a stroke of luck – Andy Cox at TTA Press snapped it up.

That was lucky for lots of reasons. One big reason was that Andy, used to working with temperamental artists [insert eyeroll emoji here] wasn’t terribly bothered when I took the story back a few times and made some reasonably significant changes. He didn’t even mind too much (or at least he didn’t let it show) when I took it back again and re-wrote it SUBSTANTIALLY. Like changing the whole thing from third to first person, re-writing major plot points, taking out a couple of characters and, oh yes, completely changing the ending.

I couldn’t help it; I was seized by an instinct about how the book should be and I couldn’t sleep until I executed it. That last re-write took me a few days of writing, practically non-stop, sitting at my kitchen table drinking a whole lot of black coffee and not thinking, not thinking at all. When I was done, I knew I was finished for real this time and – for all its faults – HONEYBONES was as close to the story as I was going to get.

Another thing I have to be grateful to Andy for. The manuscript I sent him was a mess of different fonts, colours, amateur attempts at typographical effects. The cully king has to speak with this voice, you see; and the writing needs to fade away here; and this part should look like an old book; and and and. It was a lot. So many editors would have just said no to it all. Who do you think you are, House of Leaves? But Andy got it. He understood that it mattered for the book to look a certain way, feel a certain way, use text to tell the story. So he found a way to make it work.

I am as proud of this book as of anything I’ve written, possibly prouder, even though I maybe have no right to be. It wasn’t easy to write, except for when it was. But it pushed me. It made me experiment – sometimes from inspiration, sometimes from desperation. At other times as a ‘fuck you’ to the people and things that held me back. So forgive me if I bang on about it and spam you with links for where you can buy it (here! Buy it here!) And please don’t hesitate to ask if you need a review copy or an interview or anything else.

hear me roar (sort of)

A few updates for the start of 2020. I took part in a fantastic podcast experience with Alex Blott of Papertrail podcasts, in which I talk about writing stories, the unusual formation of my story Kuebiko, the editing process, and why you should never take advice. A really enjoyable experience for me – I hope you will like it too, and give Alex some feedback. Listen here.

One of my writing heroes, fountain pen aficionado, and all-round lovely person, Priya Sharma, talked to me about her fantastic debut novel, ORMESHADOW, in the current Black Static magazine, which also contains a review of her book, plus all sorts of other brilliant stuff.

Priya and I, along with fellow Undertow author, Laura Mauro, had a frank and fascinating chat about writing earlier this year and our conversation can be found here. We go into early influences, the role of politics in our writing, and why Women in Horror Month is not every woman’s favourite time of the year.

If you read that discussion, you’ll know my thoughts on Women in Horror – but I’m all in favour of buying more books by women any time of the year, and Undertow has a great, generous offer on their books by women writers right now. Check it out.

what i didn’t know: confessions of a newly published author

I didn’t know anything. That’s the truth right there. All I knew was I was getting a book published, it was ACE and I was happy about it. And that’s all true. It is ace, and I am happy about it. But seriously, friends. My ignorance was VAST. Vast and deep as an ocean. I was innocent, naive, a wide-eyed babe with literally zero idea what the hell was going on. So here’s a partial list of the things I was blithely unaware of. Anything for you.

I didn’t know how much crying would be involved. That’s easily the number one thing I didn’t know about this whole process. If you’re the crying type, and I am, I very much am, then this process involves tears. Tears of joy, pride, and happiness? Sure, whatever. And then there are the other kinds of tears: of vulnerability (so much vulnerability), anxiety, disappointment. And did I mention vulnerability? At one point I seriously considered hooking myself up to a saline drip, just to get through the day.

I didn’t know how REAL imposter syndrome is. See, when I first saw copies of my book I was ecstatic. I was proud of myself, grateful to my publisher and everyone involved, delighted at the prospect of having my book read and reviewed and stocked in shops. I went about humming little ditties, flipping through my book, admiring the gorgeous cover for hours on end. I had NO IDEA my bubble was about to burst, big time. The weekend after review copies were sent out and I realised that people were actually going to be reading my stories, I had a legit full-on panic attack and spent an entire day talking myself down from the ledge of outrageous imposter syndrome. It SUCKED, friends. So bad.

I didn’t know how much it would hurt when people didn’t love my book. Cliché but true. I’ve had a tonne of stories published and reviewed, so I felt reasonably confident I could cope with whatever came my way. I even told people that I wanted readers to engage with my writing in a critical, thoughtful manner. HAHAHA NOPE. So wrong. I quickly discovered that what I really wanted was for people to unconditionally love my stories and herald me as a creative genius the like of which the world has never seen. When instead I heard words like “challenging”, “demanding” and (worst of all) “difficult”, I was CRUSHED. Confidence? What’s that? (And yes, I do realise there are worse insults but THAT’S NOT THE POINT, OKAY?)

I didn’t know how popular I’d become. I love twitter and never felt the need to be other than myself on there. But suddenly, in the space of a fortnight, I gained 150 new followers. It’s great, and they are all so welcome, but whaaaaat? (And is it still okay to swear?) It felt like a huge spotlight was shining in my face and I didn’t quite know how to be anymore. Then there are the requests for interviews, guest posts and so on. People want to ask me questions and hear what I have to say about stuff? GREAT! But also: SO FREAKING WEIRD. See that microscopic dot on the horizon? That’s my comfort zone and I’m travelling away from it at the speed of light.

I didn’t know it would feel like a loss. Like an ending. I’ve wanted to have a book published for so long, for my whole entire life, in fact. So it makes sense that achieving that ambition might leave me feeling a bit… empty. I like to think of it as creating space for something new, and I’ve certainly got lots of new books and stories planned and coming soon, but even so. I didn’t expect there to be grief.

I didn’t know how magnanimous, open-hearted, kind and welcoming other writers would be. Not only writers, but editors, bloggers, reviewers and readers. People have been nothing but helpful and encouraging every step of the way. Everyone from established authors to total strangers have reached out to me in support. I always knew that readers and writers are the best kind of humans, but I didn’t know how much I’d feel the benefit of their awesomeness. Of all the things I didn’t know, this is what I’ll try to hold onto the most. People can be wonderful, when you give them a chance.

I didn’t know what I didn’t know. I still don’t know much, and what I do know might not be helpful or relevant for anyone but myself. Still, I wanted to share this, from my heart, especially for anyone who has their first book coming out (soon, or one day). I hope you have a wonderful experience. I hope you don’t feel any of the anxiety or vulnerability I did. But if you do, I hope you remember that it passes. It does, it really does pass. Just keep breathing. Focus on the good stuff, the wonderful, uplifting, exciting stuff of BEING A PUBLISHED AUTHOR. And stay hydrated.