Tell me about the story of Mel and Sid in your new novel, Little Bang.
Mel is a shy science nerd, Sid is a waster musician. They get pregnant on their first date and their families have very different views on what they should do about it. It’s about abortion, parenthood, bodily autonomy, gendered double standards, and it’s a love story with a lot of humour about two teens trying to hold on to each other despite all the pressure.
What led you to write a book with a conversation about abortion at its centre?
Some writers write because they have something to say. I write because I have something to process. The referendum made me realise how little I knew about abortion so I set out to educate myself. The more I learned, the angrier I became that I’d been told so little and that things haven’t changed much for teens today. Little Bang grew out of that process of discovery.
Were you nervous about broaching the topic?
Very. When something is so silenced and stigmatised, if you get a platform to say something about it you feel a responsibility to get it right. I really wanted to honour those who have been through it as well as offering something useful to young people who might need to know about it someday. I understand that some people might not like it, but I feel that if I’ve done those two things then I’m happy. I’m really not the kind to enjoy wading into political snake pits, but I felt compelled to write this book because I was so angry that it didn’t exist for me or my friends when we were teens. We knew so little, and had so little support, and I wanted to write a book that would do something to address that gap for teens today.
As a young person growing up in Northern Ireland, did you feel you had access to media that covered abortion?
None. Ever. It was only ever whispered about, and this was the ‘90s so there wasn’t even the internet. Having the internet now is great, but there’s so much misinformation out there. And even reliable information only goes so far if there’s still a stigma to deal with. What young people need is to be able to have open, rational conversations about these things with the important people in their lives, not have to sneak off to google it alone.
How do you feel conversations in schools serve young people when it comes to sex and relationship advice in general?
In Northern Ireland, it’s always been up to the school to decide how they do it, which has meant a lot of patchy or biased RSE lessons that don’t cover things like sexuality, abortion, consent etc. I dread to think what the consequences of that have been for our young people. They’re now introducing a set curriculum but some schools are fighting it. Schools fighting education says it all really about how irrational it is. Denying people information is a way of keeping them in a powerless position. We’re dependent on lawmakers [politicians], the medical profession, the church and the government to make our decisions for us because they know more than us, and they’d like to keep it that way. It’s exactly the same when you reach the other end of reproductive life and realise you know nothing about menopause either, and again you’re dependent on a GP who may or may not be sympathetic. The fact that these institutions are male-dominated is particularly impactful for girls and women, and this policing of women’s bodies really worries me.
How did you find writing your second novel after so much critical acclaim for your first?
It was a big encouragement to keep going through several non-starter ideas until I found Little Bang.
How did you find writing a musician character and including song lyrics in this book?
My husband has always been in bands so I’ve been a professional groupie for years. It was actually fun to use the knowledge of that world I’ve accumulated through much lugging of amps into pubs, and even filling in with (very dodgy) backing vocals and keyboards. He liked the lyrics in Little Bang so much his band, Coastal Trees (plug!), put one of the songs to music and he’s playing it at my launch. It’ll be on Spotify so readers can hear Sid’s song, which is so exciting for me. I get very attached to my characters so bringing one of them to life like that is just the best gift I could’ve been given. It’s my favourite song now, and I’m not biased at all.
Your first novel, Flying Tips for Flightless Birds, an LGBT romcom, was nominated for the Carnegie Medal, and won the Children’s Books Ireland Eilis Dillon Award, Children’s Choice Award and Book of the Year Award 2019, and also won the Northern Ireland Book Award 2019. What’s it about?
It’s about Finch Franconi and his twin sister, Birdie, a Northern Irish flying trapeze act trying to save their family circus school from closure, while also trying to survive being the ‘circus freaks’ at their small-town high school. When a new boy comes to town, Finch has to decide if there’s room in his life for a new partner.
How prevalent is homophobia in the North and how responsible are some politicians?
It definitely exists, and I feel sorry for the schools who do try to address it, because how do you encourage equality and tolerance when some of the most powerful people in the country are openly homophobic? It’s a hugely irresponsible example to set. I think they forget that their words and policies and political manoeuvring have a real impact on individuals. And it’s not just a ‘matter of opinion’ these days, this is actual scientifically documented harm. I often look at them and think, ‘someone in your family is LGBTQ+ and you are doing so much damage, how can you live with that’?
What was the appeal of the circus setting?
Circuses have traditionally welcomed outsiders and I loved that ethos. In the circus Finch is loved because he’s different, whereas at his school he’s bullied because he’s not exactly like everyone else. I wish more of the arenas our kids have to live in were like that.
You grew up in the North but also in 19th-century Avonlea, home to Anne of Green Gables. Is that what drew you to becoming a young adult writer?
Probably. I didn’t actually live in Canada, it just felt like it because Anne was my obsession. She was a writer, a daydreamer and a disaster. I related!
You set up The Blank Page for schools who want to set up creative writing clubs and mentor Fighting Words NI’s teen writers group, Write Club. What are the benefits of creativity for young people?
Creativity is a safe place to explore yourself, the world, and your place in it. To make mistakes and figure out what you think. At a time in your life when you’re figuring out everything, that’s invaluable.
Which projects are you working on?
A new YA. I don’t think I’m allowed to talk about it yet!
Have you ever made a literary pilgrimage?
Not intentionally but I’ll visit a writer’s house if they have a nice garden. I’ve seen Virginia Woolf’s, Vanessa Bell’s, Beatrix Potter’s, Wordsworth’s, and Vita Sackville-West’s. Vita is my gardening hero.
What is the best writing advice you have heard?
Write the blurb first. Instead of finishing the book and then trying to twist the contents into an exciting blurb, write the blurb of the most amazing book you can imagine first. Then write that book.
Who do you admire the most?
Social justice and climate-change activists. To be on the right side of history long before anyone’s going to thank you for your actions is an incredibly brave and selfless thing to do.
You are supreme ruler for a day. Which law do you pass or abolish?
Make Libraries Quiet Again! (come on, extroverts, it’s our only refuge in a world that is not designed for us. I genuinely miss lockdown — though not Covid — because the world got so quiet.)
Which current book, film and podcast would you recommend?
YA novel, The First Move by Jenny Ireland, is about a teen with arthritis who doesn’t think romance applies to her. Never Rarely Sometimes Always is a restrained and yet heartbreaking movie about two teens on an abortion road trip. The Shift with Sam Baker is an intelligent and entertaining podcast about menopause and life after 40.
Which public event affected you most?
We seem to live in an onslaught of affecting public events. How do you choose? It’s getting to the point where you don’t even ‘remember where you were when X happened’. Because it’s daily and we’re so desensitised.
The most remarkable place you have visited?
Iceland. I got so obsessed with the language I learned to sing Silent Night in Icelandic. I’m sure that’ll come in handy someday.
Your most treasured possession?
My 1967 VW Campervan, Gerda. It’s a bit like parenting in that she’s demanding, expensive to run but irresistibly cute.
What is the most beautiful book that you own?
A Complete Shakespeare in six tiny volumes in a decorative box from 1894.
Which writers, living or dead, would you invite to your dream dinner party?
Every time I meet a writer I admire, I embarrass myself (Marilynne Robinson had to tell me to let someone else ask some questions). Also, I can’t cook, so no. Just no. I’d honestly rather stay home alone and read their books.
The best and worst things about where you live?
I love that Belfast still feels like a small and friendly city where you can feel safe and live on a reasonable wage (not a writer’s wage, obviously) but the orange-green politics are a real drag factor on everything else.
What is your favourite quotation?
“There art thou happy” from Romeo and Juliet. Friar Lawrence says it to berate Romeo for being a misery guts when loads of things are still in his favour. “Thy Juliet is alive … there art thou happy.” He means “lucky” rather than “happy” as we’d understand the word, and it reminds me that happiness isn’t complicated, it’s just what you feel when you’re grateful for what you’ve got.
Who is your favourite fictional character?
Snufkin from Tove Jansson’s Moomin books (although Moominpappa is funnier).
A book to make me laugh?
Moominpappa’s Memoirs.
A book that might move me to tears?
Moominvalley in November. Gets me every time.
