Ian Russell-Hsieh: 'There’s great humour to be found in emotionally difficult material'
BY Katie Smart
20th Feb 2024
Ian Russell-Hsieh studied on our flagship online Writing Your Novel – Six Months course in 2019. His debut novel I’m New Here is out now from Scribner, the story follows Taiwanese-British photographer Sean who flies to Taipei, after being fired from his job and dumped by his girlfriend, as he attempts to escape his life.
We caught up with Ian to discuss his time studying with us, his approach to writing emotionally complex material and advice for inhabiting the first-person perspective.
You took our Writing Your Novel – Six Months online course in 2019. How did studying with us impact your approach to writing?
It had a huge impact on my approach to writing. As a journalist and copywriter I was writing day in and day out, but as I quickly found out, fiction is a completely different discipline that requires a completely different set of skills. There are no facts to lean on, you can dream up anything you like – which, in its own way, can be debilitating – and you have to learn what makes a narrative compelling. The mechanics of it. Studying on the course was the first time I’d really tried writing fiction, and it was terrifying sharing work with others – having it dissected and analysed. But it was an invaluable process, both in terms of learning how to look at your work objectively and to see where its strengths and weaknesses are, as well as understanding that no one writes fully-realised, perfect words the first time round. It takes constant iteration to get to where you want to be – which is a comforting thought, especially for a perfectionist!
Many of our students find lifelong writing friends on our courses. Are you still in touch with anyone you met on the course?
Absolutely. We all started a group on Slack after the course finished, to keep encouraging each other. A handful of us carried on learning the craft by continuing to workshop each others’ work through Zoom for three months, and it’s been a great source of support and camaraderie. One of our cohort – Kate Kemp – won the Stylist Prize for Feminist Fiction and gained representation, which really inspired me to finish drafting I’m New Here and to send it out. She’s now signed a major deal with Phoenix and her novel is releasing next year, which is incredibly exciting. I recently had a launch event for I’m New Here down here in Cornwall and a few of our group came down for that, it was brilliant to meet in person and catch up. I’m hoping we can all meet up at future launches.
Your debut novel I’m New Here is out now from Scribner. It has been described as a ‘masterclass in unreliable narration’. What drew you to the first-person narrative perspective? And do you have any advice for writers attempting to nail their protagonist’s voice, particularly a protagonist that isn’t ‘likeable’ or ‘reliable’?
I’ve always been drawn to first-person narratives, ever since I read The Catcher in the Rye at school. The way they pick you up and deposit you directly into a character’s head so fully; the visceral nature of those narratives; the way you can immerse yourself in a unique voice that’s addictive to read and lingers long after you’ve finished the book. For I’m New Here and what I wanted the story to do – to explore the effects of cultural dislocation, illustrate the psychology and the psychological breakdown of a character, create ambiguity within the story – it was perfect. But the first-person perspective has its flaws, too; it can be limiting. For better or worse, I think writing in the first-person just comes more naturally to me.
Voice is a tricky one. It’s the first thing I look for in a book, and we’re constantly told as writers to ‘find your voice’. We all have our own ways of speaking that are authentic and distinct – I think starting with your own natural speaking voice as a foundation is a great first step. Study how you talk. What are the quirks of your speech? Do you speak in long, elaborate sentences, or are you more monosyllabic? What kind of words do you use? Do you use slang? How do you talk differently to someone from, say, the 1950s? These are a few things that come together to build a voice – but I think ultimately it comes from knowing your character totally and completely, because character dictates voice.
A useful exercise is to spend 10 minutes free writing with the prompt ‘I remember…’ Start each line with ‘I remember’ and roll with it, see what you put on the page. The writing is often natural, deep and authentic. And unfiltered, too, because you don’t have time to think about it. Then do an ‘I remember’ as if your character was writing it. It can help you to reach the core of that character, and by extension the way they speak – whether they’re likeable, reliable or not.
The novel addresses Sean’s unravelling, depression, feelings of alienation and self-destructive behaviour head on and doesn’t shy away from difficult subjects. How did you approach writing about these difficult subjects? Did you do anything to protect your own wellbeing?
It’s hard to remember, really – that time drafting feels like a blur. I’ve experienced some of what Sean experiences in the novel, so in those instances it was trying to remember what the feelings were in that moment in time, and working at communicating those raw feelings so that what you’re left with is an emotional truth – in fiction – that resonates. In other instances, it was a case of putting myself in the character’s shoes and living the experience with him, writing down with pen and paper what I was feeling, the sensations, and working on it from there. I don’t think we should avoid writing about difficult subjects, I think we should actively engage with the things that embarrass us, or scare us, or make us feel shame. These are things that make us human. There’s great humour to be found in emotionally difficult material, and I often find that the writing is honest, real and powerful. That’s what I loved about writing this book – it was difficult at times (extremely fun, too), but it really was a novel of change; I was a completely different person by the time I was done.
Being in that headspace for extended periods of time isn’t good for anyone, though – it can be emotionally draining. I remember reading that when Haruki Murakami is writing, he lives an incredibly routine life. He gets up early, writes for four or five hours, works out, reads and listens to music, then goes to bed at 9pm. I guess the routine and the mundanity of the days allow him to reach those surreal and dark places he finds in his fiction. My life in Cornwall is pretty wholesome – lots of time with my wife and kids, running in the woods, time on the coast. I think that helps.
What does a typical writing day look like for you?
When I was drafting I’m New Here I’d help to get the kids ready for school, spend the day writing features or advertising and marketing copy, hang out with the kids when they got back from school, do bedtime, and then put my headphones on and write on the sofa for a few hours while my wife Ellie watched TV. Often I’d just get sucked into whatever it was she was watching and not write anything at all. Very glamorous, very exciting.
What fiction have you been enjoying recently?
I’m in the middle of Cold Enough for Snow by Jessica Au at the moment. A novella about a mother and daughter on a trip together in Tokyo, it’s written in a (deceptively) simple, but beautiful way. They walk together, they eat together, they visit galleries and museums together – and they talk. It’s quiet and understated, and in the everyday is where profound meaning and understanding is found. Nothing is spoon fed to you, and Au leaves it up to the reader to infer what they will; under the seemingly normal circumstances there’s an uncomfortable tension that points to uncertainty – which I love. Highly recommended.
Do you have any words of wisdom for the aspiring authors reading this?
Trust your gut – you know your tastes and what you’re passionate about. Feedback from others is useful, but it can also derail you if you don’t have confidence in your vision. Your instincts are what make you unique, so lean into them. Figure out your intention and make sure your story aligns with that intention. And write! Even if you don’t feel like it, set a timer for 10 minutes and just write. More often than not you’ll want to carry on, and if not, at least you got 10 minutes in.
Finally, what’s next for your writing journey?
I’ve started working on my second novel. It’s polyphonic, bigger in scope and follows three generations of a family over three continents and the course of 70 years or so. It’s early days though, so we’ll see if it actually ends up becoming that!
I'm New Here is out now!
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