Amy Clarkin on the inspiration behind her debut YA novel, What Walks These Halls.
The idea for What Walks These Halls was ignited by three things: a lonely heart, a desire to escape and a terrible joke.
The lonely heart reached its peak from being clinically vulnerable during a global pandemic, spending fifteen months shielding in my family home, and seeing no one besides my parents and sister (though I was immensely grateful for their company). This loneliness had been seeded before that, during five years of chronic illness. One day I was an active, energetic twenty-five-year-old; the next, I was crawling up my stairs because I didn’t have the energy to walk. By the time the Covid-19 pandemic swept across the world, I had just reached enough of an uneasy truce with my health to tentatively start thinking of the future again. Alongside this came a burning desire to reconnect with the world I had been isolated from for so long.
I dreamed of being a writer from a young age. But in my early twenties, I lost confidence in my ability to write, and shoved that dream down. I told myself that I wasn’t talented enough to succeed and I should focus on more ‘practical’ things. When I became chronically ill, I started writing again; at first it was my way to process what had happened to me, then my way of connecting with others. I starting writing creative non-fiction and personal essays, and even started working on a memoir about chronic illness and identity.
Then Covid-19 arrived.
And suddenly I couldn’t deal with writing about illness, not when the world around me was consumed by it. All I wanted was to escape. So I silenced the critical voice that told me I wasn’t a good fiction writer, that I would be wasting my time even trying. I wasn’t well enough to work part-time, with my health fluctuating so much, and I couldn’t really leave the house. How could trying be a waste of time? It would give me a purpose, something to do every day. And, deep down, a tiny flame of hope that had never quite been extinguished by my own self-doubt whispered, ‘It could even be good’. It was this part of me that had taken online courses in creative writing, alongside half-day workshops on Outlining a Novel and Writing Fairy Tales through The Big Smoke Writing Factory, that had quietly refused to give up on the dream to write fiction.
Books have always been my escape. As a child I dreamed of stumbling on a portal to another world; a window in the air like Will Parry, or a doorway in the back of a wardrobe like the Pevensies. I never found one but, in a way, I always had one in my hand, through the books I carried like talismans.
Now, I would create my own portal to escape into. I just needed a story to tell myself.
It came from a joke, an offhand comment I made at a family dinner during the summer of 2020. My sister was buying a house and was at the ‘sale agreed’ stage, subject to a surveyor’s inspection.
‘Imagine if they came back and said “Well, the house is structurally sound, but there’s a ghost in the attic”’. My family laughed, and the conversation moved on. But I couldn’t get it out of my head.
Imagine if there was such a thing: paranormal surveyors. After all, how many horror films start with an unsuspecting family moving into a haunted house? What if you could have someone check it out beforehand, and reassure you that all was well?
And that’s how PSI – Paranormal Surveyance Ireland – came into being.
I spent three months researching everything to do with paranormal investigation: watching endless episodes of Ghost Hunters: International, reading volume after volume of books by ghost hunters, parapsychologists and exorcists (fun fact: you can take TWO online courses in parapsychology via Irish libraries, because libraries are magic). I listened to podcasts, watched TV shows and films, read fiction alongside nonfiction, and let the team and the story slowly introduce themselves to me.
So much about the book has changed since the very first draft, but the heart of it has stayed the same. I wrote about that search for people who will see all of you – your shadows and your sunlight – and will love you anyway. I wanted to tell a story about connection, about finding the people that make you feel safe to be yourself, your whole self. I wanted to write disabled characters and queer characters, boys who cry and girls who are angry. To write about loving someone and the fear that can come with the depth of that love. About platonic love, familial love, romantic love, and how all of these loves can be equally powerful. And I wanted to write about ghosts. The way we cling to things we’ve lost.
I wanted to escape, and losing myself in this story was the balm I needed. Even the frustrating days – the ones where I was stuck on a plot point, or couldn’t find the right words to use, where I started to despair and wonder ‘Why am I doing this? This is terrible,’ – were an escape in their own way, because when I was agonising over the imaginary decisions of my characters, I wasn’t terrified about the real-world goings-on that were having an all-too-severe impact on my life. It was such a gift, and one I hope to share. If this book can make someone laugh or cry or feel seen; if the romances can make them happy, or the supernatural scenes make them scared, if this book can give that person whatever they’re looking for in its pages, I will feel like all the work, the months and years spent trying to bring these characters and their story to life, will have been worth it.
(c) Amy Clarkin
About What Walks These Halls:
A prickling sensation grew on the back of her neck, spreading up her scalp. It was the feeling of being watched. She whirled to face the doorway but it was empty.
Raven O’Sullivan doesn’t remember what happened in Hyacinth House five years ago. When her father died during a paranormal investigation there, everyone said it was an accident, but she’s pretty certain it’s her fault. Her brother, Archer, wasn’t there that night. When asked to investigate the supposed ghost of Hyacinth House, he can’t resist saying yes. Even if his sister wants nothing to do with it.
Éabha McLoughlin has grown up seeing and hearing things no one else does. Now that she’s starting college, she finally has the freedom to find out why.
The daring Archer and his eclectic team seem like a good place to start.
But everyone has their secrets, and they all lead back to Hyacinth House …
The thrilling YA debut novel from Amy Clarkin.
Order your copy online here.
