An Interview with Megan Collins

I am an author of psychological thrillers, a creative writing teacher at an arts magnet high school, and the managing editor of 3Elements Review. I spend my days immersed in creativity and language—and it’s such a gift.

I’m not a huge fan of going outside. Yes, there are flowers and trees and soft grass out there—but also, insects! Sunburns! Unpredictable weather! No thanks. I’ll stay inside and read.

Right now, I’m reading Vox by Christina Dalcher. This book, which explores a dystopian society in which women are only allowed to speak 100 words per day, has been on my radar for a while, and now that I finally have my hands on it, I am racing through it. It’s terrifying and darkly funny, and it’s a stark warning about the dangerous possibilities of the misogyny that still exists today.

When I was really young, my favorite was The Monster at the End of This Book by Jon Stone. It was narrated by Sesame Street’s Grover, who gets increasingly anxious as the book proceeds because he’s been told that there’s a monster at the end of the book and the reader (you, me, all of us) keeps turning the page, getting him closer and closer to that terrifying end. He tries everything to get the reader to stop—tying the pages down, bricking them up—but still, the reader keeps turning and turning until, finally, we see that the “monster” was really just Grover all along. For a young reader, that book has everything: drama, suspense, humour, a loveable protagonist, a teeth-clenching climax, and a sweet, happy ending.

The very first story I ever wrote was called “The Bad Cats.” I was six years old. A few years later, I wrote a story called “The Mischievous Dog,” so I guess I have a thing for misbehaving animals.

Daisy Jones and The Six by Taylor Jenkins Reid. I purchased a physical copy of it after listening to the audiobook. I don’t think it’s hyperbole to say that the audiobook was a life-changing experience for me. I’m in awe of the novel’s writing, storytelling, characters, and world-building, and it’s pretty much all I ever want to talk about now. The audiobook was amazing because it had a full cast of voice actors for all the band members and other characters “interviewed” in the book, but I loved it so much that I knew I had to have it on my bookshelf as well.

For inspiration and interviews about the process from other authors in the trenches, I’d require Novel Ideas: Contemporary Authors Share the Creative Process by Barbara Shoup and Margaret Love-Denman. For a craft text that pays particularly close attention to the ins and outs of plotting, I’d require Save the Cat! Writes a Novel by Jessica Brody. And because it’s exquisite and perfect, I’d require Beloved by Toni Morrison (more on that one later).

I know I would not be the writer I am today without The Collected Poems of Sylvia Plath. I first read it when I was in high school, and it completely transformed the way I wrote. Before that, I’d been writing very flat, vague poetry, and after, I saw the power that words really have: to make us see familiar things in a completely fresh way. Inspired by Plath, I began to study how to craft strong and memorable images. I took the rhythm of her poems into my bones and worked on training my ear to hear the cadence in a piece of writing. All of these lessons have served the writing I do every single day.

This question has made me realize that I don’t think I own anything too obscure—but now I’ll be on the lookout!

I’m double dipping with a previous answer, but Daisy Jones and The Six by Taylor Jenkins Reid. It’s structurally inventive, beautifully written, and contains some of the best monologues I’ve read in a very long time—if not ever. I finished the book days ago, but I’m still thinking about it all the time, hearing the characters’ voices in my head and missing them fiercely. And the ending—oh my God, the ending. If nothing else, please read this book so you can experience its stunning, tender, redemptive conclusion.

I spent my whole life working toward getting a novel published, so the fact that I’ve achieved that dream is definitely my proudest achievement. And within that achievement, I’m also proud of how many people have reached out to me to tell me what the book meant to them. It’s a beautiful reminder of how connected we all are, even with people we’ve never met. I wrote The Winter Sister as a metaphor (disguised as a thriller and murder mystery) for a truth I had discovered—and it’s amazing to hear that the story resonates with some readers in the same way it does with me.

My novel ideas always begin with a “What if” that really interests me. For example, with The Winter Sister, I wondered: what if in the Greek myth of Persephone and Demeter, Demeter had had another daughter, someone who she’d presumably have to try to hold it together for in the wake of losing Persephone? What if Demeter didn’thold it together, though? What if she fell apart just as completely as she does in the myth? What would happen to that other daughter? How would she navigate her childhood and her transition into adulthood? What would an adult version of that neglected girl look like? Sylvie, the narrator of The Winter Sister, became my answer to that question. From there, I started to see the parts of the story I’d need to get to—the turning points, the twists, the reveals, the climax, the answer to the novel’s mystery of who murdered Persephone—and I created a general outline based on those ideas. Then, before beginning each chapter, I wrote a detailed outline of everything that needed to happen in those pages. Then I repeated that process until I had my completed first draft.

I think I’ve stopped believing in there being a hierarchy of impressiveness when it comes to books. When I was younger, I might have said Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy, or something just as heavy and classic. But I’m done with the idea that a book’s length or age or genre or presence in the literary canon ascribes it with more value than a funny, moving, well written rom-com that you find on the New Fiction table at Barnes & Noble. But also—maybe my very early edition of The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath.

First of all, read everything you can get your hands on—things in your genre (to know the kind of literary conversation you’re a part of) and outside of it (to be inspired by different subjects, styles, and voices). Second, don’t ever give up—and I know that that’s easier said than done. You will be rejected. You will face massive disappointments. It’s just a part of the journey, and it isn’t personal. You might hear “No” so many times that you want to banish the word from the English language—but try to remember that it only takes one yes.

Strangely enough, my three answers also showcase humanity in the worst possible way. Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer takes place in the wake of 9/11, but it follows a huge-hearted, hilarious young boy as he finds connection and healing in the most unexpected places. Beloved by Toni Morrison is about a former slave haunted by the ghost of a child she killed so that the child would not become a slave herself, but it also illustrates the astounding power of a mother’s love. The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy explores the idea that love cannot be shackled or limited in any way—and it does so through a story that examines the dangers and horrors of the caste system in India.

Two of my favorite books from the last decade are Night Film by Marisha Pessl and Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel. Night Film is a literary thriller that I simply devoured, barely coming up for air or food or sleep as I blasted through the pages*. Station Eleven* is a haunting, lyrical exploration of what it means to be human, especially in a world in which so much of humanity, and humans themselves, has been destroyed.

I’ve had Hidden Bodies by Caroline Kepnes, the sequel to her electric and fascinatingly disturbing You, on my shelf for a few months now, but I haven’t gotten to it yet. I’m eager to dive into it so I can continue Joe’s story—even as I’m almost afraid to.