was storytelling itself – the ones we tell within families that pass down generations as well as the ordinary ones we tell every day. We unveil ourselves with stories, making choices about how we represent ourselves and what we choose to divulge and what we keep hidden. So I went back to the beginning of the novel and polished those threads so they shone a little brighter.


Your debut novel, Before I Die, was published when you were in your 40s. Did you always see yourself as a writer, or did it come as a surprise to you?


I’ve always seen myself as a storyteller. As a child, I knew I wanted to be either an actor or a writer. I was always reading, but I also loved performing. I was in all the school plays, but my favourite subject was creative writing. I went to university to study both drama and English, then I went to drama school, became an actor, but never stopped writing. In


the mid-90s I techniques was


working for Tellers Theatre – a community theatre company based in London. We used improvisation


to


take stories to young people who wouldn’t normally have access to them – in prisons, hospitals,


units, youth clubs and housing estates.


I seven years


young offenders’ spent


putting myself in imaginary situations and playing all sorts of people I had absolutely nothing in common with and would never normally be cast as. It was a wonderful way to learn what held an audience’s attention and about structure and narrative drive. I gave up acting when my second son was born because I couldn’t


take two kids out on the road with me. I began to write more at that point because it was my only creative outlet. Writing a novel seemed like a very natural progression after years of telling stories on my feet.


Before I Die was made into a film – how closely were you involved in the process and did it change your perspective on the text?


I was sent drafts of the script for comment, but that was about the extent of my involvement. I had nothing to do with casting or production at all. I think the film remains true to the spirit of the book. I was determined to avoid sentimentality and I wanted the book to be darkly funny, terrifying, tender, sexy and truthful. The film strives for this too. The film’s certification (it’s a 12A) meant that some scenes could not be too graphic, whereas in the book some of Tessa’s experiences are


more deeply explored. I


thought that was a shame, but it didn’t change my perspective on the original text.


Which writers have inspired you?


As a young reader I devoured poetry, folk and fairy tales (Grimm, Andersen), and stories from the Arabian Nights and Ancient Greece. Now I love Raymond Carver, Donna Tartt, Denis Johnson, Ali


Smith,


Toni Morrison, Maggie O’Farrell, Tove Jansson, John Irving and Kate Atkinson amongst many others. I try to read as a writer might – with one eye and half my brain looking for just how this author make this character


so believable, or that


sentence so beautiful, or this story such a page-turner …


What can I look forward to editing next?!


I’ve started a new project, but have


no idea where it will take me. Inspiration comes from everywhere. I watch the world for stories in a very energised way – newspapers, overheard conversations, etc … anything can be used. I don’t like knowing in advance. I never plan a structure. I like surprises. I’m quite disciplined and sit at my desk every day and just write.


Unbecoming by Jenny Downham is published by David Fickling Books, 978-1-9102-0064-3, £14.99 hbk


www.booksforkeeps.co.uk


Don’t miss the November issue of Books for Keeps featuring Oliver Jeffers, Benji Davies and the best books for Christmas


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