Catherine Ryan Howard: 'It can be hard to discern good advice from bitter experience'

Catherine Ryan Howard Picture: Bríd O'Donovan

I grew up in Grange, County Cork — the eldest of three. My parents, John and Kathleen, still live there. My brother John is an actor and my sister Claire works in the Bon Secours. I should probably also mention Dexter, the dog who, yes, was named after a fictional serial killer. He lives with my parents while his sister, Millie, lives with my sister and her husband, Rob. Claire and Rob are newlyweds — they got married at Springfort Hall in October and that is the first time I’ve referred to him as her husband, which is lovely but also weird!

I don’t really believe in fate or destiny, but I knew I wanted to be a writer since before I even really knew how to read or write. When I was in Junior Infants in St Columba’s Douglas, the teacher would sit up on her desk and read books aloud to us, holding them facing out so we could see the pictures. After school, back home, I’d line up all my Barbies on my bed, climb up on my dressing table and ‘read’ books to them in the same way. I work with a picture on my desk of me, aged 8 on Christmas morning 1989, typing on the typewriter I’d asked Santa for. I think once I knew it could be your job, I knew that that was the job I wanted to have.

Catherine Ryan Howard, aged 8 ,on Christmas morning 1989, typing on the typewriter Santa brought

Professionally it’s being nominated for the Edgar award for Best Novel for The Liar’s Girl back in 2019. The Edgars are like the Oscars of the crime fiction world and Best Novel is like their Best Picture. They’re awarded by the Mystery Writers of America and determined exclusively by a panel of judges, who whittle down hundreds of entries — basically, pretty much every crime novel published in the States that year — to six finalists. I didn’t win, but I got to go to New York for the ceremony and just to be included was more than I’d ever even dreamed of. I still can’t quite believe it happened, to be honest.

My earliest memory is being babysat by my grandparents and not being too happy about it. I’m not sure if it’s an actual memory but there’s an oft-told story in our family about how my parents had to come home from a night out — I think on New Year’s Eve — because I was crying so much, so it fits.

When I was 13, I read The Hot Zone by Richard Preston and became totally obsessed with the idea of becoming a virologist, specifically one who specialised in the Ebola virus and worked at a facility called USAMRIID (the United States Army Medical Research Institute for Infectious Diseases). Had I been born in the States and been a little older than I am, I also would’ve done everything I could to become a NASA astronaut. A few years ago, I found out there’s a woman called Kathleen Rubins who worked on Ebola at USAMRIID before flying on two NASA missions to the International Space Station, logging a total of 300 days in space. If I couldn’t be me, I’d want to be her.

What would I like to be remembered for... I would settle for just being remembered. I think as long as people remember you were here, you’re not yet completely gone. I also once saw a headstone engraved with the line, ‘The only hurt he ever caused was when he left us,’ which I think is an epitaph worth aiming for.

Catherine’s book 56 Days has been shortlisted in the Crime Fiction Book of the Year category at this year’s An Post Irish Book Awards.

It can be hard to discern good advice from bitter experience and the day I learned to tell the difference changed everything for me. I was stuck in a corner at an event with someone who was telling me there was no chance of my ever getting a six-figure deal or maybe even published at all, when the voice in my head said: ‘Oh — she thinks you and her are the same'. It made it easy to ignore her doomsday predictions because we weren’t the same at all. I hate to quote a John Mayer Instagram caption but he summed it up in a way I never could: Nobody can tell you that you don’t have what it takes if they don’t fully understand (a) you, (b) what you have and (c) what it takes.

The greatest advice I have ever been given is to write the book you want to read but can’t find on the shelf.

The only thing I can say for sure I was ever best at is performing to Bart Simpson’s Do The Bartman at the Munster Disco Dancing Championships Age 8 and Under Category at the Arcadia Hall in June 1991, because I have a trophy to prove it.

What surprises me is how many people with zero experience in virology, epidemiology, and public health have magically become experts in how to deal with a brand new, highly contagious, and potentially lethal viral agent overnight.

What scares me is wasting time. I’m not a morbid person, but I’ve always been mindful that tomorrow isn’t promised. I despair when I hear people talk about something they really want to do or a place they really want to go to, and then follow it up with a wistful, ‘Some day…’ No one knows how long they’ll be here. We are all, in a way, terminal. Act accordingly.

• Catherine’s book 56 Days has been shortlisted in the Crime Fiction Book of the Year category at this year’s An Post Irish Book Awards. Visit irishbookawards.ie to vote: the winner will be announced on November 23.