Crime, violence and the crunch of broken glass beneath my feet: why being a scaredy-cat led me to write urban fantasy
It’s night time. I’m in a forest. I’m surrounded by sinister creatures. Shadows flicker around me, malevolent shapes seen only from the corner of my eye. Strange sounds assault my ears: the cries of unnamed beasts, twisted wails that of pleasure or pain. The only light comes from distant stars; the only touch comes from the moss beneath my feet or the gnarled bark beneath my cold fingers. The only breath clouding the air around me is my own.
I am, frankly, terrified. To the point where I hardly dare exhale for fear of letting potential attackers know where I am; where any attempts to scream would probably choke me. I can barely move, I am so scared. And, horrifyingly, I am at least a two minute walk away from the cosy, well-lit holiday cottage where I will find safety, family, and a large brandy.
Yep, two whole minutes of scary, soul-shaking solitude – a very small walk through the woods that I thought I’d enjoy. On a holiday away from the noise and grime and daily challenge of the city. Two whole minutes that scared me more than spending an hour in one of Liverpool’s famously raucous taxi ranks just after pub-closing time.
I understand the logic: people are more of a threat to personal safety than owls or ear wigs or sleeping cows. Therefore, more people = more danger, and less people = less danger. Sadly, if you stick me in the countryside on my own, the logic stops communicating with my adrenal system. Maybe it’s watching too many Hammer Horror movies as a kid. Maybe it’s because I’ve always lived in cities. Maybe I’m just the World’s Biggest Wuss – but seriously, rural idylls scare the bejeezus out of me.
I would have been a rubbish Hobbit. A terrible epic fantasy heroine. A very, very poor medieval anything (apart from a serving wench in a Terry Pratchett tavern). Sleeping on the floor? A floor that’s covered in grass? Yuk. And travelling by night through far off lands, without electric street lighting? No way.
Despite being a lifelong fantasy fan, when I started to write the book that would eventually become my debut novel, Dark Vision, I knew that I needed to find a world that my imagination could inhabit, populate and relish. As luck would have it, I live here – in Liverpool. One of the most famous cities in the world; an intoxicating mix of past, present and future. Of endings and beginnings and everything in between. Of a mighty river and multi-cultural people and decaying old warehouses whose bricks have tales to tell.
Working on the ‘write what you now’ theory, I was able to use this vast, inspiring urban landscape to set the scene for the book. Everything I needed was there: the architecture, the heritage, the waterfront, the music, the culture. Though it was hardly a case of ‘just add magic’, I did find that taking my city and sprinkling it with twisted, gruesome pixie dust worked brilliantly – who’s to say there isn’t a vampire rock band singing in a grimy nightclub in a Scouse sidestreet? Who knows for sure there isn’t a magical portal in Sefton Park – it certainly feels mysterious enough. And why shouldn’t those endless, neat rows of terraced houses in the shadow of Anfield be the home of an unwitting Goddess who needs to save the world? What about that block of empty council flats – couldn’t the Morrigan be holed up in one of those?
I know urban fantasy isn’t everyone’s bag, and that’s fine – there’s plenty of room for it all. But for me, walking through the City of Night (to be said in the style of Jim Morrison in LA Woman, please) is the ultimate in magic: the neon lights, the chip wrappers, the blaring music, the car horns, the black cabs, the mating rituals of late-night lovers, the shady alleyways screaming for shortcuts, the broken street lights, the bleeping of the green man telling you it’s safe to cross.
That’s the world of Lily McCain, the heroine of Dark Vision. An earth Goddess who doesn’t have much time for the earth. A modern woman who meets a fate that goes back millennia. An ancient spirit in Doc Marten boots.
Some people might find that City of Night frightening. But for me, compared to dark scary times in the countryside? It’s a walk in the park. A very small urban park, complete with dog poo and graffiti on the roundabout.
—
More about Debbie Johnson at http://www.debbiejohnsonauthor.com/
Wow, Debbie. That is a powerful blog post. Talk about showing your voice in your article!!
I could feel, taste, sense everything. Love your voice. And I am now going to get your book, asap. That said, I also write Dystopian/Speculative fiction so I was totally there when you described your book.