Lucie McKnight Hardy’s debut novel, Water Shall Refuse Them, released this summer, is set during the infamous heatwave of 1976. It follows sixteen-year-old Nif and her family after they move to a rural village on the Welsh border after a family tragedy. It’s a stunning meditation on folk horror, bringing elements of the gothic together with a coming-of-age narrative. Published by Dead Ink Press, it’s become their fastest selling fiction title. I caught up with Lucie to discuss her inspirations.
Terri-Jane Dow What was your inspiration for Water Shall Refuse Them?
Lucie McKnight Hardy When I was two, my parents moved from London to a tiny village in rural West Wales. I grew up in the house next door to the chapel, and even though we weren’t chapel-goers, I was always aware of how important the chapel was to the dynamics of the village; it was a real core part of village life. A few years ago, the minister attached to the chapel published his autobiography, in which he claimed to not only have witnessed exorcisms being conducted in the area surrounding our village, but that witchcraft was actively being practised in the villages around where I grew up. This struck me as a fascinating premise for a novel: we tend to think of witchcraft as something that belongs to the distant past, but what if it was happening today?
TJD Why did you decide to set the novel in rural Wales?
LMH One of the reasons for setting Water Shall Refuse Them in Wales was because I wanted to take Nif and her family out of the comfortable surroundings of home and put them in an alien landscape. I thought there needed to be a catalyst for change in their lives: they have already lost a sister and a daughter, and it seemed logical to me that they would want to change their environment. This rural village in Wales struck me as the perfect destination for them: remote enough from the urban habitat with which they were accustomed for that unfamiliarity to contribute to the feeling of unease I wanted to establish.
TJD How important is the setting?
LMH I also wanted to sustain a sense of ambiguity: nothing in Water Shall Refuse Them is black and white, but rather shades of grey. I wanted to reflect this in the location of the village – it is on the border of Wales and England, a hinterland. It’s a liminal place—neither one thing or the other—and this in a way is also a reflection of Nif; she’s caught in the middle between childhood and adulthood.
TJD I found Nif and her mother’s responses to no longer being part of a churchgoing family really interesting — Nif makes up her own rituals while her mother leans into Janet’s paganism/witchery. Could you tell me a bit about the occult influences on the book?
LMH I was conscious when I was writing Water Shall Refuse Them that I didn’t want to repeat the usual tropes of witchcraft. The Creed—Nif’s own form of witchcraft—is her own invention. She isn’t versed in the practise of back magic, so I deliberately didn’t spend a great deal of time researching it. I was more interested in the witchhunts of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries and the heatwave of 1976. One good piece of writing advice I received was to constantly interrogate your characters’ motivations: what makes them tick and act as they do. I wanted to know more about this pseudo-religion that Nif has created with its relics and incantation, so I asked her. I ‘interviewed’ her, and transcribed what she ‘told’ me and this informed my understanding of the Creed better than borrowing ideas from established texts on witchcraft. Sounds bizarre, but it seems to have worked!
In presenting Janet’s own practises, I deliberately held back from naming the herbs and plants she uses in her ‘potions’. This wasn’t just laziness on my part—again, I wanted her set of beliefs to inform a collection of home-made actions, rather than something that conforms to historical practice. Is she a practising witch or is she someone who is using her own version of homeopathy to help Linda manage her grief? I’ve left it deliberately ambiguous.
TJD Water Shall Refuse Them is published with Dead Ink, and has become their fastest selling title — what has your experience of working with a small publisher been like?
LMH I’d had my eye on a number of independent publishers (particularly those in the Northern Fiction Alliance) while I was writing Water Shall Refuse Them as part of my MA in creative writing at Manchester Metropolitan University. After I submitted the novel as my dissertation, I started looking in earnest at finding a publisher. I was particularly keen on Dead Ink – they struck me as bold and innovative and prepared to take risks. As soon as they opened for submissions I sent them a sample of my book and was delighted when they requested the full manuscript. Soon afterwards, they made an offer of publication. That makes it sound like it was easy: it wasn’t. I’d had a few rejections from agents before I submitted to Dead Ink, so it wasn’t all plain sailing.
I have no experience of working with a large publisher, but I imagine there are several layers of hierarchy to be navigated, whereas with a small press, the author is much closer to the production process. For example, I was consulted on the cover design which, I’m told, is often presented as a fait accompli with larger publishers. On the whole, working with Dead Ink has been a lot of fun.
TJD You also have a story in this year’s Best British Short Stories collection, and a chapbook out with Nightjar Press — what was the biggest challenge for you in writing a novel versus writing shorter fiction?
LMH I think the hardest part for me of writing a novel compared with a short story is holding everything in your head for the time it takes to write the thing! I was constantly having to re-read to make sure that there weren’t any continuity errors or glaring omissions. With a short story, it’s possible to read the whole thing in ten or twenty minutes, and so it is very much a self-contained entity. After I finished Water Shall Refuse Them, I started writing short stories as an antidote to the long slog. I don’t mean that short stories are easier to write—if anything, the writing experience is a lot more intense—but the pay-off comes quicker. When you finish the first draft of a short story and know that it’s something you can work with and refine, it’s a fantastic feeling.
TJD What’s next for your writing?
LMH I’m still writing short stories and would love to be able to put together a collection. I am also in the early stages of a new novel, which I just need to crack on with, really. I’m also tempted to return to a novella that stalled last year, but which I’m very fond of, so would really like to finish. Decisions, decisions!
TJD And finally, what are you reading at the moment?
LMH I’m currently reading Broken Ghost by Niall Griffiths, which is astoundingly good and tells the story of three people whose lives are changed when they witness a vision on a Welsh hill. He establishes the different voices beautifully. I’ve just finished Susanna Moore’s In the Cut which is a very violent and disturbing novel, but one that I enjoyed immensely.