What is your debut novel, Something to Live For, about?
Something to Live For is about a man called Andrew, whose job is to search for people’s next of kin when they’ve died alone. Andrew has got himself trapped in a lie where his colleagues think he’s happily married with kids. When we meet him at the start of the book, he has fully embraced this fantasy as a way to stave off his loneliness, but then a new person, Peggy, comes into his life, and everything changes.
This is such a unique premise for a book. What inspired you to write this story?
I was idly browsing the Internet one day when I came across an article following a day in the life of the local authority workers whose job is to investigate when someone dies without a next of kin. I was struck by what an unusual way to make a living that was. Also, how profoundly weird it must feel to be the person to sort through a stranger’s possessions after their death, trying to piece everything together. The workers in the article were painted as stoic and matter-of-fact, without giving away anything about their personalities, and I couldn’t help but want to know more about them and their lives. That’s when I began to write Andrew’s story.
Is Andrew based on anyone real? Do you personally relate to him?
When I first started to think about the idea for the book, I did actually watch a very short interview with a man who does Andrew’s job, and there was certainly something measured and calm about him that helped me decide on how Andrew should present himself to the world—which is completely at odds with all his internal angst and neuroses. I do definitely relate to Andrew. There are certain personality traits of his that are exaggerated versions of my own, and when I’d finished the book—without turning this too much into an amateur therapy session; I am a repressed Brit, after all—I realized that the lessons Andrew learns in the story are attributable in some way to my own life.
What kind of research did you do to write this novel?
I read lots about public health funerals and what Andrew’s job entails, and throughout the writing of the book I was always coming across articles about the rise of “pauper’s funerals” and statistics showing how more and more people—of all ages and demographics—are experiencing loneliness. In an earlier draft of the book, there was a lot more in there about the practicalities of Andrew’s job, but in the end it became a bit too distracting from the story, so lots of that came out.
Do you yourself collect trains? Do you belong to any online forums?
I’m not a train collector myself, although I think my dad might have had one or two at some point. Barter Books, the bookshop that Andrew and Peggy go to in the novel, is a real place, and it genuinely has a model train running along above the bookshelves. It’s a glorious place. I’m also a sucker for a long train journey. I’ve never been a member of an online forum but I used to “lurk”—the technical term, I believe—without posting myself on the odd one or two when I was younger. They were for the football team I support and various comedy shows I liked. Twitter seems to have somewhat taken their place these days, but I do absolutely love the fact forums still exist as a place for obsessives to congregate and chat about garden equipment or taxidermy, or whatever, without fear of judgment.
You also work as a nonfiction editor in the UK. What surprised you about writing and publishing your own book? What was different about working with fiction? Do you think your work as an editor shaped your role as an author? If so, how?
Although I work in nonfiction, I’ve been incredibly lucky to work in the same office as some immensely talented fiction editors, and I would often sit in editorial meetings trying to imagine one of them pitching my own book—which would be either an inspiring experience or a crushing one, depending on how well the previous evening’s writing had gone! It was only after working as an editor for a number of years that I seriously considered becoming a writer. Working on a daily basis with so many brilliant authors and colleagues, and reading so many different sorts of books, meant I was learning about writing almost without thinking about it.
Have you ever told a lie that took on a life of its own? What happened?
I’m a completely terrible liar, so luckily I’ve never ended up in a situation like Andrew’s. I do remember once having a spontaneous sick day at work (hope my boss isn’t reading this), and getting caught off guard when someone asked how I was feeling the next day. I panicked and began to improvise all these hellish symptoms, to the immense concern of my colleagues, who kept trying to insist I should be in hospital.
Much of this novel is about feeling lonely, or feeling like an outsider. Why did you decide to explore these themes? What do you hope readers will take away from Andrew’s story?
I’m not sure if it was a conscious decision to explore loneliness. That really came to the fore once I’d struck on the idea of Andrew, the job he does, and the lie he’s found himself trapped in. The more I wrote, the more I started to recognize that I had experienced loneliness myself too, and so that naturally began to feed into the story. Something that definitely informed the idea of feeling like an outsider was my experience of social media, and how to a certain extent we all use it to curate a life that, to the outside world, seems perfect. At times Andrew wants to have that life, which is why he finds it so hard to give up on his lie, and at times he finds the idea of it completely claustrophobic, that it’s somehow defeatist to conform to that ideal, and that’s something that seems to have resonated with people who’ve read the book. What I really hope that people take from Andrew’s story is that it’s never too late to change things, and that even those tiny moments when you step outside your comfort zone, or take a risk, or put yourself out there, can be hugely empowering.
Without giving anything away, did you always know how Andrew’s story would end?
I didn’t know exactly how Andrew’s story would end, but I definitely did know that I wanted the opening and closing scenes to be mirror images of each other, but with one big difference in the latter. Ultimately, I wanted it to be a hopeful story. I’m an unapologetic sentimentalist at heart.
What’s next for you?
Book two! Answering these questions has really helped me procrastinate, but I better get back to it . . .