By Nancy McCabe
In my new middle grade novel, Fires Burning Underground, my central character, Anny, borrows a lot from my own eleven and twelve-year-old self. In fact, in early drafts, before the story turned from memoir to fiction, the narrator WAS me, but as the story developed, Anny became more her own person. Nevertheless, she remains a character who is close to my heart, one who I hope that young readers will identify with and root for as she figures out who she is and what she wants—perhaps with some supernatural help along the way.
Anny is eleven, an intense, creative kid who is also a bit sloppy and reckless because she gets carried away as she immerses herself in her art and writing projects. ‘Fires Burning Underground’ focuses on a time when Anny, on the brink of adolescence, has to sort through all of the possibilities for her life. Will she be drawn to conventional choices or will she have the courage to make unconventional ones? Will she cultivate or abandon imagination and playfulness?
She’s fascinated by books and treasure hunts and secret codes and the idea of having a best friend. And she’s confronting the terrifying fact that she may have to break free of her conservative religious background.
Several events bring things to a head for her. First, she finds herself struggling with nightmares and complicated feelings as a boy she knows is killed in a fire. Soon after, as she enters public school for the first time after years of being homeschooled, she forms a strong bond with another girl, Larissa—finally, the best friend she’s always wanted, but in an atmosphere where intense friendships with girls are suspect, highlighting Anny’s own identity struggle as she confronts the possibility that she may be gay.
Add to that Larissa’s interest in the paranormal that makes Anny uneasy; Ouija Boards and communicating with spirits are frowned upon by her parents and church. And what if she’s being haunted? What if the messages she’s receiving are from the boy who died?
There’s a lot going on in Anny’s life, but I don’t think this is unusual. I was facing my own versions of the same events and questions when I was eleven and twelve. These are the years that, according to many studies from the 1980s, girls are often still bold, confident, and outspoken before cultural forces lead them to retreat, lose confidence, and be less likely to speak out.
I would like to think that this has changed since the 1980s, that Anny’s generation is less prone to this pattern than mine was. But as the parent of a daughter I have still seen it happen, and I wanted to emphasize Anny’s strong voice and sense of self.
Because I do believe that if girls embrace their creative spirits and their insistence on carving their own paths, even if they go through rough patches in adolescence (and who doesn’t?), they’ll come out on the other side with their senses of self intact. All of the characters in my book have real-life counterparts. As adults we’ve returned to the confidence of our childhoods, made art, had careers in healthcare, written books, raised children, and embraced sometimes unconventional choices.
I hope that young readers will find in my story familiar questions and dilemmas and ideas for how they can navigate their own lives. Maybe the boy who seems to be haunting Anny truly does help her when there’s a crisis.
I leave that intentionally open, because I don’t know for sure, and I want to encourage readers to decide for themselves what they believe, not just about the story but in their own lives.
Nancy McCabe is the author of nine books, most recently the middle grade novel Fires Burning Underground, the comic novel The Pamela Papers: A Mostly E-pistolary Story about Academic Pandemic Pandemonium, and the young adult novel Vaulting through Time. Her memoir in essays Can This Marriage Be Saved uses a variety of forms and metaphors to explore the story of her ill-fated youthful marriage. She has also published two adoption memoirs, an essay collection, a novel centered around a host story of sorts, and the reading and travel memoir From Little Houses to Little Women: Revisiting a Literary Childhood.
