Author Confessions: Tess Callahan

On her new Cape Cod novel, a terrible agent and why her book made her cry.

When I read the prologue of Dawnland back in July, I was immediately drawn in. There’s a death, an accident really, involving a boy, and it may be perceived as intentional. All at once you need to know what happened. But don’t be fooled. This isn’t a thriller. Dawnland is an emotional family drama set in Cape Cod over a one week vacation. It centers on two brothers and their wives (and a onetime fiery affair between April and her brother-in-law Oliver) all the while the two families are jammed into a beach house.

The seductive Dawnland, out today, is Tess Callahan’s second novel; her first popular book, April & Oliver, is the prequel. I love reading novels set in summer locales in the fall, just when the first day of school threatens to end the season. And I love novels with depth. Tess Callahan goes DEEP in Dawnland so I invited her to come talk about the story behind the book.

Tess, welcome to Dear Fiction!

What was the spark for Dawnland? 
The setting came first. Having vacationed on Cape Cod for 25 years and lived there part-time for the past eight, the wild dune cliffs of the outer cape began infiltrating my dreams. These were big, numinous dreams that lingered in my mind all day. Before I knew what was happening, the landscape asserted itself as the foundation of the novel.

I had no idea who would populate that world until one day between teaching classes the entire story came to me in a single download. Out of a seething surf walked my old characters, April and Oliver, eager to tell me what had become of them. I scribbled a paragraph so as not to forget. From that moment on, I was in a frantic race to keep up with their dictation.

Wow, that is actually fascinating. Some characters just aren’t finished with us. So what made you want to continue to write about April and Oliver, the characters in your debut novel.
I never intended to write about April and Oliver again, though readers often asked for a sequel. That book ends on an open note—a postcard offering a possibility that invites the reader’s participation. I like to trust the readers’ imagination, to give them the thrill of making their own leaps. But when Dawnland downloaded into my brain that day between classes, I realized the unspoken scene that had secretly lived in my mind as the postscript to April & Oliver was only the beginning of their story. Falling in love is easy. Living in love is hard.

This is the third book I've read recently that takes place over a week. Why did you choose to tell the story in a condensed timeline? What did it do for the story?
In 2016, shortly after Dawnland first alighted in my mind, I did a TEDx Talk on the topic of Creativity and Constraint. In it, I discuss artists, writers, and athletes who deliberately place themselves in boxes to give their imaginations something to push against. I describe a set of constraints I gave myself for my next novel. These included having the novel take place in seven days and writing a first draft in ninety.

Placing a story within the structure of a vacation gives the reader an inherent sense of beginning, middle, and end. A road trip novel offers the same kind of immediacy using space rather than time. Readers enjoy an implied destination. The challenge I gave myself in the TEDx Talk culminated in Dawnland.

The book is very emotional at times...in the best kind of way. But it makes me wonder what it was like to write it? Was it challenging to live in this world with these two families? Was there a particular scene that was very challenging for you to "go there" and write?
I rode the roller coaster with my characters for sure! These two families have buried things they do not wish to unearth. Over time, secrets have a corrosive effect. Even the undiscovered ones live with us as nameless energies. Unprocessed trauma reverberates through generations, working on us without our conscious awareness.

This is true for April. At one point, she realizes that her younger self lost the future she wanted not because of external circumstances, but because she had been too insecure. She lacked the confidence to step into her own power. It was hard to watch April reckon with her choices and their painful fallout. But the reckoning was a necessary portal to healing, and the new possibilities that followed.

Have either of your books ever made you cry during the writing?
Both books made me cry. In April & Oliver, I so wished April—hardwired for self-sabotage—would make better choices for herself. It took fierce frustration and challenge from Oliver for her to begin to uninstall her conditioning, a process that continues in the sequel.

In Dawnland, I shamelessly cried when one of the teenage characters, Lochlann, has a profound encounter with a sea creature. I cried again when he summons all the powers of his mind to send a telepathic message about his experience to his cousin, Phoebe. The authenticity of their friendship is, for me, a sweet spot of the book. The ending of the novel continues to make me emotional. When we open our hearts, healing is possible.

What has been your toughest publishing or writing moment? 
Years ago, before publishing either novel, a workshop leader at a writer’s conference who happened to be a well-known editor passed my name along to a big-name agent, suggesting he consider my work. The agent signed me on right away, accepting the manuscript without any edits. In his spacious Manhattan office, he handed me hardcopies of famous writers he represented. He took me out for a swanky lunch and drew up plans to auction my book. As we clinked glasses, he said, “Tess, you and I will grow old and gray together.”

The auction resulted in complimentary letters and zero offers. In retrospect, I see that the book was not nearly ready for publication. The following week, my agent had his assistant call to say I had been dropped as his client.

Though it was a painful experience, I’m now grateful for three reasons. One, I was spared the embarrassment of putting a half-cooked book into the world. Two, I had my first hard lesson in building resilience, a crucial quality for any writer. Third, I ended up with a much better agent, the wise and steadfast Anne Edelstein, with whom I am turning gray.

Your book feels very similar to Catherine Newman's summer hit novel, Sandwich. If you've read it, how does your book differ? 
I loved Catherine Newman’s novel Sandwich! The premise is essentially identical—a weeklong multi-generational family vacation on Cape Cod in which old secrets come to light with calamitous effect. It’s as if we chose the same “box” (referring to my TEDx Talk) with which to constrain ourselves. When I used to give timed prompts to my writing students, I was inevitably amazed by the wildly different directions they ran. Catherine took the same clay and made a completely different sculpture. I so admire her quick wit, snappy dialogue, and overall hilarity.

Both books are full of hormones, though in very different ways. On the scale of humor and pathos, I’d say Dawnland leans toward the latter. The characters in Sandwich hang at the beach and swim in the pond like normal people on vacation. The characters in Dawnland are a bit frenetic in their excursions—bike riding, whale watching, ocean kayaking, charter fishing, canoeing, and bonfire building—as if sitting still too long might cause them to stumble into some uncomfortable truths, which happens anyway. A final difference is that Sandwich has a delicious motif of food—those daily sandwiches—whereas Dawnland rests its motifs in the rhythms of nature.

Lastly, do you have a favorite quote or short passage from the novel that you can share with us? A piece of writing that really captures this novel. 
Below is the prologue, which I believe captures the essence of the novel:

“When Lochlann hits the cold, dark water, his first thought is that his mother will think he did it on purpose. The surface smacks him sidelong, and he’s under, shirt around his face, shoes like bowling balls. He tries to kick them off, propel himself up, but he can’t see his arms, the water black with night. He’s a good swimmer. Fifteen years old. Unkillable. A fall from a skiff can’t do him in. But the whirlpool pulls him down, salt in his nose, eyes stinging. Something thumps him, big and rubbery, its wake hurtling him in a somersault, blurring up and down until his lungs scream for air. His chest convulses. He fights a spasm. Do. Not. Inhale!

“Abruptly the clamor in his head ceases, a sluicing silence. Pain in his eardrums dissolves into stillness so vivid a strand of hair caresses his face—his mother’s touch. His gut unclenches, his body an anchor cut loose from a ship. Warmth rushes his groin. He’s peed himself. Darkness enters him, shocking and vast. Something is here with him, moving in the shadows, its centrifugal wake sucking him down faster and faster until he is hurtling back through time toward the moment of his conception. Two luminous orbs appear, faces so young he hardly recognizes them as his parents. He screams at them to get out of the way, his impact will destroy them, but they open their arms and wait.”

Thank you, Tess! Good luck with your launch! Order Dawnland today here, here or here.