Sam Copeland on his first children’s novel
As his first children’s novel, Charlie Changes Into A Chicken, arrives in bookshops, author Sam Copeland tells us how his own life was woven into the story
The mind is a slippery fish, and the subconscious is perhaps the greasiest of all the kippers. I received a lesson in just how sneaky the mind can be when I was writing Charlie Changes Into A Chicken. I originally set out to write a story about a boy who changes into animals. I wanted it to be funny and a little bit disgusting (because I know that’s what kids really want to read), but I had no intention of writing anything serious. About five chapters in, I realised, with some level of shock, something bizarre: I had, without intention and without even realising what I was doing, written about my own childhood; specifically, I had written about a serious family illness and the anxiety that can cause to a small child.
Growing up, the spectre of my father’s debilitating, worsening and eventually fatal multiple sclerosis loomed over my childhood. I never spoke of it as a child. It was too big, too terrifying, and, also, too embarrassing. Because after all, no-one had problems like mine, did they? I didn’t recognise the immense stress I was under at the time. I buried it, hid it all behind a veil of mischief. If ever anybody tentatively brought anything up, I’d respond quickly that I was fine. And I genuinely believed I was. I was also having to face up to a number of other serious problems – which I deal with in later Charlie books – and it
was only when a therapist asked me the question ‘What would you say to that nine-year-old boy if you could speak to him?’ that I realised how anxious and alone I felt then. As an adult, looking back at that small boy with the weight of the world on his shoulders, and also looking at my own young children (who are all now a similar ages to me when my father first became wheelchairbound) and seeing how small they really are, has had a profound effect on me.
And all of that, unbidden, spilled into my writing. Charlie, the hero, changes into animals whenever he is anxious, whenever his problems feel insurmountable and he feels alone. As I continued writing, and I understood what my mind had done, I realised if I could weave in amongst the poo and wee jokes something about general anxiety for children – how it can feel and what you can do about it – then it might be of some small help.
That’s one of the reasons my book is close to my heart. What started as something fun and frivolous transformed into a cathartic exercise, exploring the feelings and problems I had as a child, and then with time I realised that perhaps it could be something to help other children – and their parents, caregivers and teachers – to open up discussion on difficult subjects in a fun, non-threatening way. I touched on earlier my embarrassment at my own problems when I was a child – it’s crucial to be able to normalise difficult emotions and difficult experiences that children may be going through.
I also knew however that I was far from an expert in advising children on anxiety. I was utterly unqualified for the task. I was an author, not a child psychologist! Fortunately, I knew someone who was: my wife, Lynne. When I was first explaining the story to her, about a boy who changed into animals when he was scared, she was the person who said to me ‘You’re not talking about fear, you’re talking about anxiety.’ I knew I could write about the importance of friendship and the efficacy of mindfulness to a certain extent, but I needed more expertise. I needed a professional. I began to subtly question her about the symptoms and different potential coping mechanisms for anxiety. She tried to hide her surprise and delight at my new interest in her work. I carefully noted everything she said, stole all her opinions and inserted them into the book and consequently, as all good husbands have done for centuries, grabbed all the credit from my wife. Despite the seriousness of some of the issues I have referred to above, I only touch lightly on difficult issues in my books, and the choice is there for adults to open up further conversation if the time and place is right. The anxiety thread could easily be ignored. But the essential, underlying message to children I tried to weave throughout is this: you are not alone. And also, whatever you do, don’t stand underneath a rhino when it’s doing a poo.
Charlie Changes into a Chicken is published by Puffin, priced €8.99