On the face of it, your books cover some pretty dark themes – alienation, death, domestic violence, stranger danger. Any ideas of why you’re drawn to those kinds of topics?
You know, until you asked me that, I hadn’t realised how much death and destruction feature in my work, especially as I think of myself as quite an optimistic and upbeat person. But those things are an important part of life and growing up. And all the people I know are interested in those kinds of things. And when you go from being a child to an adult, it’s a death in its own way; a loss of innocence. But it’s also a birth, like, you’ve been through this terribly painful trauma and now, suddenly, you’re transformed into – hopefully – a fully functioning human being.
You’ve got teenage kids yourself – how does that help you to see various things from a different point of view? Or maybe it doesn’t?
My daughter, like any other 16 year old, would be the first to say that adults, especially their mothers, have no idea what’s going on with teenagers. That’s exactly the way I felt when I was growing up. But I’ve noticed that most of the issues facing my children and their friends are a version of what I went through. The concept of the popular group and the nerds are the same. Everyone still wants to belong, make good friends, fall in love. Coming of age is a universal and often painful condition and as a parent you’re in the unique position of wise observer. My son recently lost his driver’s licence for texting while driving. The story I’m working on now, ROADKILL, is about what might have happened if he hadn’t been pulled up by police.
You cover some pretty serious topics, but manage to do so in a way that’s not depressing. Can you talk about how you managed to do that, and how difficult that was to do?
I hope I’ve managed to do that. I would feel a dreadful failure if I didn’t entertain as well as inform a reader. Maybe that comes from my time as a magazine writer. If I saw, through the glass office walls, my editor laughing, then I knew my story had worked. It was the greatest feeling. I’ve found humour has also helped me as a parent, too. But I suspect that sometimes my kids are laughing at me rather than with me.
No one’s suggesting for a minute that your novels are autobiographical, but let us into a few secrets here – what were you like as a teenager?
The first-person narration (Lucy in USER PAYS and Maddy in BULLETPROOF) gives both novels an autobiographical feel. And, in some ways, this is true; writers often write what they know. A boy did die from a fight at a party I was at when I was 17. And the year after I left school, several classmates were shot and killed by an ex-boyfriend. Both of these events were shocking at the time, and over the years I have thought a lot about them. But by the time I started writing fiction they had developed into something altogether different with new characters and outcomes. I wanted to make sense of it all but to also make what happened back then relevant to today’s readers.
Your novels are on the Young Adult shelf – can you please talk about how you found yourself writing in this category, as these books could have quite easily been written for adults.
I can only write about what I find interesting. But those themes we spoke about earlier – death, rebirth, redemption – make for pretty interesting subject matter for most people, not just teenagers.
What do you want your readers to get out of your books?
Through countless family dinners and lectures to my kids, I’ve learnt that teenagers stop listening the moment you talk too much or become boring. So, the primary aim with my books is to entertain. I want people to be willing to go on the journey. I figure that, once I’ve captured the audience, then I am in a position to discuss more meaningful things like the importance of self-knowledge, hard work, safe risks, good friendships and getting eight hours of sleep a night.
Everyone always wants to know how writers write. Did you set aside a certain amount of time a day? Did you have to write in a particular place? Did you use a computer all the way through, or pen and paper at the beginning? Did being a journalist help you much with writing a novel?
You’d think so, wouldn’t you. And, in many ways, being a journalist did help. From years of working in the magazine industry, I had discipline, understood what made a great story and knew how to craft a sentence.
But writing fiction turned out to be very, very different. I was hopeless at it. In the beginning, I wrote without a plan or a plot outline. This was exciting at first: I’d have to write in order to find out what was going to happen. But I soon found myself backed into literary corners or, even worse, over-writing. I became hijacked by characters at the expense of plot. What I wrote one day, I re-wrote the next. I needed help. I found a mentor to guide me through the process. She taught me to set aside time every morning to work, and to write quickly without looking back every day until the first draft was completed. Then it was time to edit. This process took twice as long and in lots of ways was twice as important.
An editor I know once told me that a tight story is the key to keeping readers involved. This has become my mantra. I also learnt from her that it’s often the sentences you love most that need removing.
I always write on a computer. I took a touch-typing course at the local TAFE when I left school. It was the best thing I ever did. The tapping action of my fingers on the keyboard helps me think – and makes it very easy to delete, delete, delete.
I get very immersed in work. When the children were younger, I’d often be late to pick them up from school or activities. Now, if they need me, they must tap me on the shoulder, several times and hard.
We have to ask you this – that pic at the top of this page is a bit odd – what’s that all about?
Is it too odd? I wondered about that. But don’t you think it’s beautiful, too? It’s a reminder to me that everything comes to an end at exactly the right time and place.