I like to think of myself as a happy person, and the vast majority of people I know would hopefully agree. I laugh a lot, admittedly at silly things because I have what my husband long-identified as a “quirky” sense of humour, and I have a stack of favourite jokes. What’s that? You want me to share one? Oh, go on then since you asked: A meat pie walks into a bar. The barman says, “Sorry, we don’t serve food.” Listen, I said they were my favourite jokes. I never pretended they were any good. But groan-worthy puns aside, if I’m such a Happy Hannah, why do I write about some of the darkest deeds a human being could carry out, and what draws me to telling tales about such messed up families, like the one in my fourth novel psychological thriller Sister Dear?
First, let me assure you the wicked family stuff isn’t from personal experience, and in general I’ve found the more I write, the less I draw on my own life and the people I know. There’s one notable exception in Sister Dear. Candidly, I share some of my protagonist Eleanor’s body issues, which I’ve found hard to deal with for the longest time, yet somewhat therapeutic to address this way. Let’s consider it a work in progress. However, when it comes to my family, it’s anything but messed up.
My parents married in the early 60s, they’re generous, loving and open, and have always supported my sister and me. I get along very well with my sister, too, in case you were wondering if she inspired the novel (she didn’t), and we enjoy spending time together whenever we can. I know I’m extremely fortunate. Maybe that’s why I write these stories—having a highly dysfunctional family frightens me; it would rip away a large part of what gives me stability and comfort, and what my husband and I want to provide our kids with. Writing about it lets me explore those fears from the safety of my keyboard, and reminds me not to take what I have, and the privileges that come with that, for granted.
Another reason for my dark fictional adventures is that part of me wants to see how far I can push my characters. No, make that how far I can push myself, and it seems with every new book I dare myself to take a few more steps over to the dark side, like a solo game of chicken. And you know what? I’m loving it.
While plotting Sister Dear, I read a tweet where someone asked when a book where evil wins would be published. I rubbed my hands together, cackled with glee and eagerly replied “I’m on it!” because I’d already decided the good guys wouldn’t necessarily make it out the other side.
Believe it or not, my first novel, Time After Time, was a rom com, think Groundhog Day meets Sliding Doors. Ironically, I wasn’t a Happy Hannah back then. I’d recently moved to Canada, my start-up had tanked and I felt utterly lost. Looking back, I think I wrote a happy ending because I needed one of my own, and when things got back on track in my personal life, I decided I’d mess with the happiness of my characters instead. Being fictionally evil is delicious fun, and thankfully that means I won’t be telling you more of my lousy jokes any time soon.
Hannah Mary McKinnon was born in the U.K., grew up in Switzerland and moved to Canada in 2010. After a successful career in recruitment, she quit the corporate world in favor of writing. Sister Dear is Hannah Mary’s fourth novel. She lives in Oakville, ON, Canada, with her husband and three sons. For more visit www.hannahmarymckinnon.com
