I didn’t start out writing While She Sleeps.
I was roughly three quarters of the way through an entirely different first draft of an entirely different book, a book I took very seriously indeed. So seriously I had begun to doubt I’d ever finish it.
But first drafts can be like that (honestly, ask any writer what they think about a first draft and they won’t hold back), and my agents and publishers are good people who believe in me so I ploughed on. I put my head down and kept writing, adding more words, more scenes, more characters, chipping away at the plot, moving the novel on, daily word count by word count.
‘What it’s about?’ my editor Ciara would occasionally ask, and I’d supply an endless draft of this and that, airily waffling on about the ‘big picture’. ‘But what,’ my ever-patient editor would ask, ‘is the central theme?’
An Irish businessman in Singapore: ‘You’ll get a year in jail if you are in a drunken brawl, so people don’t step out of line’
Protestants in Ireland: ‘We’ve gone after the young generations. We’ve listened and changed how we do things’
Is this the final chapter for Books at One as Dublin and Cork shops close?
In Dallas, X marks the mundane spot that became an inflection point of US history
What indeed. I knew it was essentially about good people versus bad people, a broken teenager, a man about to lose his entire business, a break-up, some angry drug dealers and a retired hitman, but you know, when asked about the actual theme I found I was stumped.
So I kept writing, thinking surely the theme would reveal itself.
Any page now.
Then Covid happened.
What a small five-letter word. What a small, slightly bland word Covid is.
Covid hit our family hard. First it took Adrian, my husband’s beautiful, kind, sweet cousin, ripping him from his loved ones. As a family we were shocked and grief-stricken, but Covid wasn’t done. A few weeks later it came for my father-in-law Terry and, though he fought it with his customary braveness, we lost him.
Let me tell you about Terry.
Terry was a particular type of man: he was charming, dapper, old-school, proud, strong, erudite and very intelligent. He came from a tight-knit, working-class family in Drimnagh and spent many years working in England, returning home with his beautiful wife Ann and his sons, Andrew and Tim.
We had a joke in the family, that there two options to do something, the wrong way or Terry’s way. He was a deep thinker and someone who would give you the shirt from his own back if he thought you needed it. He disliked cucumbers. He vehemently disliked cruelty, avarice and bullies. He played golf well and watched rugby and cricket, and, if he felt it was required, soccer. He had a sweet tooth and loved a slice of black forest gateau if there was one available, and a custard slice on any day ending with ‘y’.
He loved and was loved fiercely.
A few days after Terry’s death, I went into my office and sat down to work on the great project. I was now chasing a deadline. Over the next few weeks I tried to finish the novel but ended up tying myself in circles. I kept typing page after page after page and so the novel grew… and went nowhere. No light appeared at the end of the tunnel. I had the opposite of writer’s block, I had writer’s babble.
I knew with singular clarity that this was not the time and threw in the towel, despondent.
I started to write While She Sleeps one week later.
The story centres around Jody Kavanagh, a badly injured young woman found on the floor of her Kilmainham home. Enter my two main characters: one is Sergeant Nola Kane, a young hothead recently reinstated to the force after a disciplinary absence. The other is Detective Inspector Elliot Ryan.
Elliot Ryan is a good man, erudite, dapper, a man who can make a mistake, accept it, rectify it and do better. A man of intelligence and humility, who would rather eat a sand sandwich than be a burden to anyone.
A good man.
A man who, in all likelihood, dislikes cucumber.
Without even thinking about it, I understood I had the template, that I had been fortunate enough to know such a person in real life.
I wrote the first draft in less than three months. When I was finished, I took my dog Archer for a slow walk to Poddle Park, stood by the river and cried.
It’s hard to lose someone you care about. It’s hard not to be angry about the circumstances of their passing. Hard to get ‘on with things’ when your heart and your head are bruised and full of sorrow. Hard to focus when you’re boxed in by sadness.
I will never get to see Terry again, never get to hear his voice. Never get to see his face turn impish when he has something juicy to report. He’s gone, yet he’s not gone. Everything he taught me is right here; every story he ever told me I can access. Every decent, kind moment of strength he delivered I will carry forward.
While She Sleeps is a novel about people who are not who they say they are. They don’t have the capacity to be brave or true to themselves. I should say mostly, because it also has Nola Kane and Elliot Ryan, two flawed but ultimately decent people who will do what’s right and who will stand up for those who cannot stand up for themselves. Who will face down bullies and stand their ground in the face of derision or anger. I did not write them as heroes. I wrote them – I hope – as ordinary people who care about doing what is right.
Ordinary people can be extraordinary. I knew this to be true. I’m glad I met an extraordinary man and I hope I do him proud.
While She Sleeps is published by Hachette Books Ireland
