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| (photo: Jen Fariello) | |
Emily Thiede, a former public school teacher, teaches creative writing and serves on the board of Writer House, her local writing nonprofit in central Virginia. She is co-host of the Basic Pitches podcast, and an alumnus of Pitch Wars and Author Mentor Match. Her debut YA fantasy, This Vicious Grace (Wednesday Books, June 28, 2022), is about an 18-year-old girl whose magical gift, intended to enhance that of a partner in battle, keeps killing them instead.
The Finestra is required to disassociate from their family and instead belongs to the community. What was the idea behind this?
The idea for This Vicious Grace started with the question, "What if a girl couldn't touch anyone without killing them?" I expanded on that to create the global stakes (What if she had to touch people to save the world?) and the personal/emotional stakes (What if this problem didn't just cut her off from physical touch, but from all forms of connection?). By creating a character like Alessa, who desperately wants companionship and to figure out who she is, and placing her in a society that demands she sacrifice her individuality and former life, it's immediately clear to readers that something must change. From a storytelling perspective, this creates so much room for Alessa to grow. She examines her own beliefs, builds relationships and deconstructs the rules and expectations that cause her so much heartache.
There is no pretense of love in the Finestra/Fonte pairing. What made you take this route instead of depicting characters forced into a façade of happily ever after?
One thing I love about fantasy is the freedom to discard elements of our world. I liked the idea of a society where the most powerful people don't inherit their power, nor can they pass it on to their descendants, so there's no dynastic motivation to their relationship. Instead, they're paired up as a symbol of how partnership and collaboration make society stronger, and because romantic love isn't necessary for that, it would almost undermine that message if they were expected to be in love.
Alessa's touch can kill, which makes connection--especially physical connection--a recurring theme in the story. What moved you to write about this?
I studied developmental psychology in college and was fascinated by research on the importance of touch and social interaction for brain development. The idea that people don't just want human connection, both emotional and physical, but that we need it, deeply impacted me. Many of those studies are heartbreaking, and I can't go back in time to change that, but Alessa's story gave me the opportunity to rewrite the ending for one girl at least.
Given how isolated Alessa is from family and friends, why is she able to trust that her attraction to Dante is for him and not simply a desire for connection?
Such a good question, and one Dante ponders as well. He's not just being noble when he challenges her motivations for pursuing him--he wants to be sure and wants her to be sure that she's thinking it through. It's also why I worked so hard to map out their relationship and make sure every new stage feels earned, including moments when Alessa truly sees and appreciates aspects of Dante that he often doesn't even realize he's revealed. And while Alessa establishes other relationships throughout the story that ease her isolation, her feelings for Dante only grow stronger.
This is a YA novel that isn't shy to be steamy. How did you walk that line between coming-into-adulthood and adulthood, particularly in those heated interactions?
As a parent of young daughters, I've thought about this a lot, and for me, the distinction has less to do with the content itself and more to do with the lens used to show it. After all, Alessa is 18, an age when many people leave home for the first time, form new relationships and seek out romantic partners, and young readers are curious about what those experiences can look like. Books like This Vicious Grace, where characters who care about and respect each other openly discuss consent and make informed decisions, can be a safe place to indulge that curiosity. And, as someone who vividly remembers being in classrooms full of high schoolers giggling at Shakespeare's innuendoes, I'm confident teen readers can handle it.
Why did you decide to create a strong female lead whose magic was primarily intended to augment someone else's power?
Our culture tends to idolize a certain type of strength--bold, visible, individualistic heroes who perform great feats without needing help--while undervaluing that of people like teachers, therapists, coaches, editors and parents, who apply their skills toward nurturing others or helping them be greater than they could be alone. It's less flashy, more collaborative and much harder to show on a movie poster, but that's strength, too. Alessa has the ability to enhance a partner's magic so she can protect those with less power. I think that's incredible.
The story's conflict deals heavily with a street preacher's insistence that Alessa be killed, as she is the first Finestra known to kill a Fonte. What message did you hope to convey via this plot element about fearing someone who doesn't embody tradition?
It wasn't until after I finished writing This Vicious Grace that I realized how much of Alessa's story was an accidental metaphor for my journey with late-diagnosed ADHD, but like Alessa, I know what it's like to struggle with doing things the way other people do. Everyone around Alessa prioritizes tradition over her individual needs, and because of that, they're all paying a steep price. But differences aren't weaknesses, and while tradition can be valuable, it's just as important to give individuals the respect and freedom they need to exercise their unique strengths.
You include Italian proverbs throughout the story; which was your favorite?
Belle parole non pascono i gatti (Fine words don't feed cats). It basically means that flowery speeches don't solve problems, and it paints the perfect picture in my head: a disgruntled housecat, utterly unimpressed at the owner trying to placate them with words while ignoring the crisis of an empty food bowl.
And, finally, as a reader, do you like when love interests connect early, or when they have to wait?
I love a slow burn! It's just so satisfying when the tension builds little by little, scene by scene, until you want to scream, "Just kiss already!" --Samantha Zaboski