IN CONVERSATION: HELEN MCCARTHY

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RJ: Fantasy and Science Fiction can give birth to incredibly dense subject matter. Within the past 10 years it has grown into a tremendous medium to explore – with fellow creatives constantly inspired. How do you see this genre changing and developing over the next few years?

HM: It’s interesting that fantasy and science fiction keep being bracketed together, because I can think of few genres so fundamentally opposed. At heart, I don’t think a story is science fiction unless it could not happen without some scientific input. It has to be looking towards its own future, even if its own future is our past – trying to develop and explore something new, to move beyond itself. You could easily write science fiction set in an ancient or mediaeval period, which is usually considered fantasy territory, providing you built your story around some of the huge scientific technological advances of the era. Fantasy to me is at its most satisfactory when it reflects on our own inner spaces, our hearts and minds, which is why it often involves looking back at the past, drawing on archetypes and legends, and describing common experiences in mythic terms. Of course, you can write a fantasy in SF costume or have an SF story role-playing as fantasy, but to me they always seem different, and I think it’s that very difference that secures their future. People need stories that look outward and inward, that wear shiny cybersuits and flowing velvets. We are all born of the dreams of the past and the hopes of the future.

RJ: I couldn’t have summed it up any more elegantly. Are you finding developing your own novel a dramatic departure from your informative books?

HM: In some ways, yes, in others not so much. Doing the research is much the same, and characters and problem situations nag at your mind at inconvenient times in just the same way that missing bits of information do. The greatest joy of writing fiction is developing a relationship with your characters, and that’s completely new.

RJ: What did you learn from meeting Mr Miyazaki and the rest of Studio Ghibli?

HM: That he’s a very nice, courteous man as well as a true genius, and that all studios have their corporate requirements and constraints.

RJ: Explain your process of working.

HM: It’s interesting how the process is similar whether I’m writing fiction or non-fiction. Something will spark an idea or a connection in my head and I’ll think, "that’s interesting, let’s see where it goes." With the novel I’m working on at present, the whole thing grew from an advert in one of those glossy brochures from an upmarket estate agent. With The Anime Encyclopedia, it was the knowledge that I didn’t know much that drove me to find out more. And with Hayao Miyazaki, the spark came from seeing My Neighbour Totoro for the first time, not understanding a word of Japanese, but understanding the emotion behind the film and knowing I had to find out more about the man who made it.

Other than that, it’s the same process for any writer. Seat of pants to seat of chair. If you're lucky enough to get a contract with an advance, or review or feature work, you're a paid writer, but what makes you a writer is the fact that you have to sit at a keyboard every day and make things out of words. It gets very frustrating when they get rejected, but somehow you just keep on making things with words.

RJ: Is there anyone you’d like to collaborate with?

HM: Many people. I love collaboration, and it’s been great fun whenever I’ve had the opportunity. I wrote my first long fiction with my friend Barbara and that was one of the best experiences I’ve ever had. I was part of a shared universe story circle some years back and that was great fun too. Working with Jonathan Clements on non-fiction is an amazing experience – he’s clever, challenging, demanding and very funny. Oddly enough I don’t think I’d like to work with any of my literary idols. I’d rather just enjoy them. Not that it wouldn’t be flattering if Harlan Ellison, Ursula K. Le Guin or Susan Price ever did pick up the phone and say “Helen, are you busy right now?” but I’d just be too awed to reply. And of course being invited to work with the dead authors I love would be strange – fun, but strange.

I often wonder how people manage to pick up someone else’s work and carry it on under the same name. To me an author is a unique individual, and even if the world he or she created is carried on by someone else, that difference should be acknowledged. Even if you keep control as the writer but have multiple artists working on the world, how far do you develop a house style or an overriding cultural milieu? And what happens if readers start to indicate strong preferences for one particular visual style, that maybe isn’t the one you as author feels works best for your vision? It’s a very complex relationship, isn’t it?

RJ: I think it’s as complicated as you make it. What I have found so far are that I have attracted the kinds of people who are a) interested in the story, and b) would like to learn more about exploring a subject and enhancing their skills. I have been extremely blessed so far with the few artists I have in such a short period of time. They receive an intro pack, which consists of branding, an agreement and a full Erth Guide they read as well as the story. I offer art direction and feedback where necessary – there are some artists that are just in tune with Erth, they see it clearly in my writing and Guide. I feel that the symbolism (as subtle as it can be at times) is something that helps to harness all these artists’ visions together. I am very meticulous but at the same time I am always open to seeing a fresh spin on certain concepts, depending on how it comes across in the novel.

Artists so far have shown a great deal of respect for the subject matter and have remained very professional. What is the best professional advice you may lend to someone?

HM: There are three things that I think all authors should do. First, always listen to any comment or advice graciously, and thank the person who makes it. Even if they’re ungracious about it, or if the comment makes you furious, you have to draw two things from it: first, this person found your work impossible to ignore, and second, even if the comments were not very positive or kind, they will contain something that you can use to improve your work. So keep your dignity and thank the person, then take their comment away and look at it from every angle to see what you can learn.

Second, make sure your work is technically competent and internally consistent. Grammar, spelling, presentation, and continuity are all vital. You can play with form and be intensely creative without neglecting the structure of the language; you can play with plot and character without making basic mistakes like having people head West but have the sun setting behind them. If you do sloppy work, it will be critically savaged and you will deserve it, so get it right!

Thirdly, and most vitally, be yourself. Don’t imitate others, don’t try and be the next JK Rowling or the new Philip Pullman. Respect your own talent, your own voice. You can learn from other authors, but you really won’t learn by imitating what’s selling or what’s fashionable. Polish and improve your work as much as you can, but keep it yours. All a writer has, in the end, is his or her own voice and own vision, so don’t give up on yours. If you don’t keep faith with your work, why should anyone else? As you said in an earlier answer, your work may not make lots of money, but creating something you love is worth doing. It isn’t all about fame and fortune, nice as they are.

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