Tracy Fells interviewed by Katy Wimhurst.
3:AM: When did you start writing stories and why does it appeal so much?
TF: As an only child, I spent a lot of time entertaining myself and began creating stories about objects around me. I remember announcing I would be a writer at about age six, when I started writing stories to be read out in class, but then life (career, motherhood, etc.) postponed that ambition till my mid-forties. A side-effect of leaving my twenty-year career in clinical research was freeing the head-space needed to seriously start writing, but first I read and discovered many wonderful short story collections. Angela Carter’s The Bloody Chamber was an epiphany, giving me permission to write the stories living in my head. Until then I’d not known magical realism was a ‘thing’. Carter’s fiction launched my writing career. For me, short stories are the opportunity to explore worlds in miniature; to follow an obsession intensely but briefly without the long-term commitment that a novel requires. It only takes a snippet of conversation or a TV documentary on some obscure topic to springboard a short story into life; I relish focusing a spotlight on a theme or issue with such a short word count.
3:AM: Your first collection of short stories is The Naming of Moths. Can you say something about putting this collection together? As it contains various prize-winning stories and previously published works, I assume you didn’t initially write all the stories with a collection in mind. How did you choose which stories to include, and what were your considerations for arranging them into a particular order?
TF: Having written over 200 pieces of short fiction, and with 100 stories individually published, then the next step of creating a collection seemed obvious but selecting which to include, or deliberately exclude, was harder than the original writing. My obsessions are varied, and over a thirteen-year writing career have wandered literally all over the world, but I knew a coherent theme was critical in a collection. I listed out what I considered to be my recurring themes matched with my most successful stories. Pivotal moments of change and transformation featured in key stories, coincidentally most of my favourite pieces, and I then produced a list of titles to include. Using coloured index cards, I separated out the titles with their genres, such as magic realism, realist, myth or fairy-tale etc., along with their word counts. Then played around with these cards to assess story order: aiming to balance longer more emotive pieces with lighter stories in between. My editor at Fly On The Wall Press, Isabelle Kenyon, was also tremendously helpful in suggesting the selection and ordering of stories. Her input and championing of particular pieces was a positive step forward in the collection’s development. So I’d recommend seeking input from others in putting a collection together, as you, the author, can be too close to the work.
3:AM: Many of the stories in The Naming of Moths use speculative or magical elements — for instance, humans turning into animals — but they are also very much rooted in our world. What the speculative elements seem to offer are a certain enchantment and a freedom to go in a direction that conventional realism can’t take a story. In another interview, you observed, ‘I love how you can wrap a lot of hidden layers and meanings in… a magical realism story.’ Can you expand on this idea and talk about your love of using speculative elements?
TF: I believe humans have an innate need for the truths of our reality to be disguised within stories. When our ancestors sat around a fire to share and process the horrors of their day, I believe they created myths, legends and fairy-tales to disguise key messages, or warnings, hiding dangers in memorable stories that could be re-told over and over. There are many issues today that keep me awake at night, and to reference these themes, undiluted, directly in a realist story could feel like slamming the reader over the head with a shouty placard, resulting in a doom-laden lecture, which isn’t (in my opinion) fun to read. Using magical realism and speculative elements, but mixing these with contemporary characters in a recognisable location comes naturally to me because these are the stories I want to read. There can be a subtext, or hidden meaning, woven into the plot as long as there’s always a main story thread that grips the reader. I like to leave a lot to the reader’s interpretation, as everyone’s personal history or reading habits are unique to them; consequently, different people will ‘take’ different things from a story. Ultimately, a short story has to entertain and to engage a reader to its conclusion, and if on that reading journey it triggers an emotional response to the story’s themes, then that’s a bonus, and I’ve done my job.
3:AM: In the excellent title story, ‘The Naming of Moths’, a regional winner in the Commonwealth Short Story Award 2017 (Europe and Canada), you draw on the Hebrew myth of the golem. Miss Bethan, who is dying in bed, has been looked after for the last few years by refugee Sofia, once a student of entomology, and Adam, a young man who might or might not be a golem. In Hebrew myth, a golem is an animated being, made from mud or clay, which is inscribed with a Hebrew word such as emét (‘truth’ in Hebrew) on its forehead; and the golem can be deactivated by removing the first letter in emét, thus changing it from ‘truth’ to ‘death’ (mét, meaning ‘dead’). In the story, there is some ambiguity in my mind about whether Adam is really a golem or just a gentle lad with learning disabilities that Miss Bethan has taken under her wing. Can you say something about your interest in this myth and how you use it in this story?
TF: Your take on this story is interesting because in my head there’s no ambiguity: Adam is a golem. He’s been created by an old lady, Miss Bethan, to fill the childless void in her lonely life. In the original myth, golems are created out of clay to exact revenge upon your enemies, but I wanted to subvert this tradition and instead make my golem a gentle and peaceful creation; Adam is not a weapon but a vector for kindness and understanding. I first learned of golems from Terry Pratchett’s Feet of Clay (a book in his wonderful Discworld series). Then later I came across the story in both the X-Files and Supernatural, two of my favourite TV series. The idea for ‘The Naming of Moths’ had been flitting around the light bulb inside my head for several years before realising how it could be linked to the golem myth. A genuine ‘light-bulb’ moment! It was also a conscious decision not to label Adam as a golem within the story because as I discovered with early beta readers (I’ve always shared and exchanged work with other writers for review and feedback, it’s a great way to improve your writing and we all need a support crew), not everyone is familiar with this myth. I try to leave space in a story for the reader to fill in the gaps, and hopefully, they can still enjoy reading, without having to know its mythological roots. For a similar reason, I’ve not identified Sofia’s homeland as the character could be from any war-ravaged country; to me, she represents all the dispossessed refugees of modern times.
3:AM: Although you use speculative elements, your stories are close to literary fiction in being about believable, three-dimensional characters. I was impressed by the wide range of characters you include in The Naming of Moths, of different ages, family backgrounds and even cultural heritages (e.g. British Pakistani, Australian mixed race, Mexican, African). How do you go about developing your characters for short stories? Are there particular techniques you use or is it a more intuitive process?
TF: The short answer is it’s an intuitive process, as the characters turn up in my head fully formed. I rarely ‘see’ a character but I always hear their voice clearly. I struggle with writing a lot of physical descriptions of characters and prefer to let them show themselves via dialogue and actions, this also allows the reader to ‘see’ their own version of the character. The longer answer is I will expand the character’s world, and the motivations behind their actions, with online research where I’ll explore key facts and make hand-written notes for each story. Any fact that I incorporate into a story will be checked across multiple sites, and I have a terrific proofreader (my husband) who checks and questions everything. I know many writers love the research process, but I’d rather be writing new words so my notes are brief and really just enough to sketch out a landscape or scatter crumbs of reality into what are only ever intended to be fictional worlds.
3:AM: You have also had a novella published, the funny, inventive Hairy on the Inside, and on Twitter you have mentioned you are writing a novel, too. What have you found are the main similarities and differences between writing shorter and longer forms in fiction?
TF: Have I mentioned that I have a lazy streak? For me writing short fiction is a joy because you can create an entire world in a very small word count; you can easily hop between genres and time periods, following mini obsessions as they arise. Within a short time you have a finished piece ready to submit, and, hopefully, feedback (rejection or acceptance) will come within a short time too. I love writing flash fiction because a single piece can be conceived, created and polished within hours… meaning I can clock off early. In my dreams perhaps, but the process for writing short fiction can sometimes feel this easy compared to the hard slog of finishing a novel. The main similarity between writing short and long fiction is my daily process, in that I set a minimum word count to be achieved and I won’t stop till I’ve hit that target. For a short story, it’s usually 500 words, increased to 1,000 as the minimum when working on a novel. I’ve disciplined myself to only begin writing when I know I’ve sufficient hours available that day to reach my daily goal, otherwise I’ll skip a day and work another later in the week. Thankfully, I now work only for myself and have the freedom to control my daily life and routines to achieve this.
3:AM: Although there are dark elements to Hairy on the Inside, including the monster characters, the book is written with a light, comedic touch. The story is narrated by Chloe, a werewolf, and involves a group of monsters house-sharing during the pandemic. Hairy on the Inside brings your skill at humour to the fore, although this is also apparent in some stories of The Naming of Moths, such as in ‘Ten Good Reasons’. Can you say something about writing humour? Do you think it is harder to pull it off well than more serious fiction?
TF: Honestly, I think it’s easier to make a reader cry than to laugh out loud. Humour is a very subjective emotion; setting out to write a story or longer piece that’s going to tickle everyone’s funny bone is doomed to fail. I’ve always used humour to diffuse conflict or lighten difficult situations in my working life, and being a lifelong fan of Douglas Adams and Terry Pratchett, it came naturally to use humour in my fiction. Sadly, I can’t share any nuggets of wisdom for creating funny stories, other than write what makes you laugh and hope someone out there shares your sense of humour. Hairy on the Inside started as a short story (300 words) written to cheer my workshop group during the lockdowns of 2020. We had to meet (like everyone else) on Zoom to share and review each other’s writing, and the peculiar life we were leading was ripe for satire. They loved the characters, urged me to keep going, and consequently the gang of monstrous housemates developed into a novella-in-flash, the perfect length for comic writing.
3:AM: What are you working on at the moment? Any projects in the pipeline that you would like to tell readers about?
TF: Over the summer I’ve completed the first draft of a dark, characterful crime mystery novel. It’s set in my home city of Plymouth, and I’ve thoroughly enjoyed the writing process. Next, the really hard work begins when I dive deep into the editing, revising and polishing phase of the writing… It’s not been written under contract so I’ll also be preparing to send it out on submission. Seeking a good home for my work is, for me, the toughest part of being a writer. I love the creation of new stories and characters, but ultimately they have to pay their way and this doesn’t get any easier, no matter how many publication credits you have.
ABOUT THE INTERVIEWEE
Tracy Fells was the 2017 Regional Winner (Europe and Canada) for the Commonwealth Short Story Prize. Her short fiction has been widely published in print journals and online, including Granta and Brittle Star. She has been shortlisted for the Bridport and Fish Fiction prizes. She is a regular reader for several international story competitions and leads writing workshops on short fiction. Tracy also writes novels and was a finalist in the 2018 Richard & Judy ‘Search for a Bestseller’ competition. Her debut novella-in-flash Hairy On The Inside (published by Ad Hoc Fiction, 2021) was shortlisted for the 2022 International Rubery Book Award. Her first collection of short stories is The Naming of Moths (Fly on the Wall Press, 2023). She lives close to the South Downs in West Sussex, with her husband and a variety of garden wildlife. @theliterarypig
ABOUT THE INTERVIEWER
Katy Wimhurst’s first collection of short stories was Snapshots of the Apocalypse (Fly on the Wall Press, 2022) and her second collection Let Them Float will be published in December 2023 (Alien Buddha Press). Her fiction has been published in numerous magazines and anthologies, including The Guardian, Writers’ Forum, Cafe Irreal, Kaleidotrope, and ShooterLit. Her first book of visual poems, Fifty-One Trillion Bits, was published by Trickhouse Press (2023). She sometimes writes literary essays on speculative fiction and interviews writers for 3AM Magazine. She is housebound with the illness M.E.
