Lottie Hazell

Image Credit: Siobhan Calder

Hello, and thank you so much for chatting to us! First, I wondered where your initial inspiration and motivation for the book came from, and how did that develop into the final version of Piglet? 

The book itself was actually written as part of a creative PhD, so a version of the book is a chapter in that PhD. I was looking at different types of satisfaction in literature, and specifically what I call food-centric fiction in contemporary literature. So, I kind of met my own brief on that! The first really crystalline scene that arrived to me was the scene where Piglet is cooking Kit carbonara the night after he confesses to her. And I didn't know who they were or what had happened between them, but I was so fascinated by the perseverance to a kind of suffering of domesticity, even when something terrible has happened in your life, and I just wanted to know why they were still putting the shopping away in this really orderly, spiky manner. That scene just felt very truthful to me, and I wanted to flesh it out and see where that would take me.

I love that. Just before we start talking more about the plot, could I ask more about your experience of being a debut author – how has that been for you? Did you have any writing routines that you picked up?

Really pleasurable actually! I’m a very plot-driven author, which you might realise when reading Piglet because I hope it feels pacey. And I think I have a kind of commitment to that speed and plot, so I plan out what I’m going to write first, then I write it, and then I have a very heavy edit, which feels like shedding a skin. And I don't know if that's a debut thing, and maybe in future books I’ll write more consciously and carefully as I go, but I’m in awe of people who can just start writing, and are like, ‘It just comes to me, and I’ll see where it goes’....

I never understand that either! When writers tell me, ‘I started writing the character, but I didn't know how she would act yet’, I always think, how can you not know?!

I agree about the pace – I read Piglet really quickly, and it’s definitely got an addictive quality to it. Why do you think creating that type of feeling was important to you? And how did you go about creating that sense of propulsion?

I think the reason I was, particularly for this book, very committed to pace is because I wanted it to have a salacious quality to it. Because of the way I chose to finish the book, I wanted to create that feeling of greed and wanting to know what’s going to happen; I wanted to engineer that feeling to specifically contrast with how the book ends, and I’m really interested in what position that leaves the reader in. That was my writerly motivation for creating a plot like that. And with the content being food writing, I was also interested in how the plot style can complement the feeling of appetite and that kind of voraciousness.

It's also interesting because I didn’t actually start with the countdown format. It was always moving in a linear fashion, but I hadn’t gotten to the point of actually counting down with the chapters, and the final structure of the book hadn’t come together. But when I did a very heavy edit, where it felt like the book really just shed its skin, that format revealed itself to me, and then it seemed very natural for the plot of the book to be structured like that.

And do you enjoy reading that kind of book yourself? Do you like reading thrillers or books that are very plot-heavy in your own reading?

Not in reading, no. I wouldn't say that I’m a fan of a thriller, but I am a fan of domestic intensity, and I don’t actually need anything more dramatic than that. I don't need any official drama; I don’t need a murder or a crime... although who knows what’s happened in Piglet. I like a boiling point, even if it’s just between two characters. I definitely read for that. I’m interested in breaking points and tension.

You mentioned domestic intensity, and I wanted to talk about that idea about the ‘domestic’ because Lamorna Ash said of Piglet – which I thought was a perfect explanation – that it opens with domestic conformity and then drives out into the wilderness. It made me think about how I keep seeing the term ‘domestic fiction’ more and more, and I wonder how you feel about it? Do you think it’s a helpful term, and is that how you think of your book?

I think it’s interesting. I think all labels are often unhelpful in one way or another. I think it’s more of a shorthand for people to communicate to readers and to people like yourself what writers are trying to aim for and what they’re specifically interested in. I don't think of Piglet as domestic literature, but I am interested in relationships and everyday life and micro struggles, which I suppose all fall under the kind of umbrella of the domestic. So, I suppose the terminology is more pragmatic than it is accurate.

And surely everything has an aspect of domesticity?

Yeah, it’s like ‘women's fiction’, isn’t it? Like, what is that?

Agreed. Going back to the ideas and themes you explore, obviously one of them is those pressure points that bubble up within relationships, and the ways that control and desire are related. I’d love to just talk to you more about this, and why you’re interested in talking about desire and control, and how these ideas link back to food.

I think it all centres around the kind of notion of satisfaction for me – the life cycle of craving, satiation, and then a building desire again, and the kind of lengths that we go to be at certain parts of that cycle. And I think that’s where the control comes in, when people think, ‘I want to be in satiation mode internally’, and that’s impossible because you have to have the light and the shade. I think I’m interested in that in a food sense, as well as how one feels intently about controlling their life, and the perception of their life and themself. I just think it’s such a productive combination to have both of them together because they feel like the same language to me.

And food can be used to talk about so much!

Absolutely. I think it’s code for everything. I’m always interested in it; I always ask people what they’re having for dinner. I think it’s one of the most effective ways to describe a character. Actually, when I was writing the book, I did what I call tongue-in-cheek method writing, where I cooked all the recipes with Piglet. That kind of sensory empathy is crucial for me to understand the character. And I think that, even in future books when I’m not so focused on food, I would still want to know what characters are having for breakfast; I think that’s essential information.

Definitely. It’s primal, isn't it? It just says a lot about how you live your life. Are there any other books that work with food in a similar way that you loved, or that inspired you at all?

Funnily enough, there are lots of food writers that I adore, like Nora Ephron, Laurie Colwin, Nigella Lawson, and Nigel Slater. I’m also interested in books that use food on the fringes as well. There’s a book called The Harpy by Megan Hunter, and it’s one of those books that’s about motherhood and the kind of drudgery of routine and using food to build a person and a perception of oneself. It uses food in a way that’s not saying, ‘Look at this device I’ve used’ –– it’s just fashioning a character, and that’s what I love the most.

Most of the authors you mentioned are all women and I wonder if you think there is something between femininity and food that you also wanted to explore? Do you think there might be a stronger link between the female body and satiation than with men?

Yeah, it’s an interesting question and I am biased in terms of my own interests, one of which is femininity and food, and the female body and eating. I think that one of the fascinations in Piglet is what it means to be a woman who’s observed to be eating. I’d like to read more about the male body and the same, but I think my primary concern was what it means to be a female in terms of satiation and femininity, but also using the body in a way that feels powerful and choosing to act in a ‘subversive’ way. And I use air quotes because it’s like, is it really subversive to eat? Maybe it is, supposedly. But it’s that that I'm interested in exploring.

And although you write in third person, the reader very much sees everything through Piglet’s eyes, but I wanted to ask specifically why you chose not to show the conversation between Kit and Piglet that sets the book’s plot in motion? I kept thinking, am I going to find out what happened? But instead, you just see the aftermath of the conversation, which was really tantalising!

There are two reasons, I think. One belongs to Piglet, and one belongs to me as the writer. For Piglet, I feel like that conversation and the specific content of it is kind of immaterial; it’s only the impact it’s had upon her, of being betrayed in the way that she perceives it, that is relevant. I also think that, in a way, Kit doesn’t deserve the airtime and the detail of being poured over in a way that is more centred on him than on her. I was very keen that it was her unravelling. In a way, he’s kind of tertiary. 

And, from my perspective, I’m interested in the collaboration between the writer, the reader, and the dead space, and what the reader brings to a book because, after I’ve written it, it’s really more the reader’s story to fashion in their mind in whatever way they see fit. And I’m interested in what people come up with – I've had some people saying to me, ‘Okay, he cheated on her, and then someone saying, ‘He’s murdered someone’. I love the range of what people bring to it.

Yes, I definitely had my own version of what he’d done!

And I like that it can be a living text – that it might be different at different points, if you read it several times in your life, your perception might morph. I like that interplay between the reader and the writer.

Do you have an idea of what he did? Or did you not allow yourself to think about that?

It’s funny, when I was writing the book, there were a few different things that presented themselves to me. Have you seen I May Destroy You by Michaela Cole? You know the last episode where there’s multiple endings?

Yes! Such a good series.

Well, in one draft, there was a chapter that was offering different endings, but it wasn’t satisfying to me. I didn’t think it was more satisfying than not knowing. So, my perception of it was almost as if I was also a guest at the wedding as well, being like, ‘Do you think it was this or that...?’ I was guessing with everyone else, but I never really, I suppose, put my finger on it. Nothing felt right to actualise into the text.

That’s fascinating. You talked a little bit about food authors, but in terms of your work and your inspiration, are there any other artists or creative works that have had an impact on the way that you write?

One that springs to mind is Eliza Clark's Boy Parts, and its commitment to dialogue, pithy relationships, and an interest in contemporary living. I like that a lot. I’m currently reading Tom Lake by Ann Patchett at the moment, which I adore. Anyone who writes about relationships, I completely gravitate towards. Funnily enough, I was in a bookshop with my marketer, and I kept picking up different books about relationships. She said, ‘I know what you're going to pick up before you reach for it’, because that’s just my catnip.

Oh completely – me too. As you said, an intense relationship with some kind of friction is the most intriguing thing.

Also, I feel like those moments are the most important things in life. I’m not interested in the ‘big subjects’, or actually, I think these are the big subjects. I think the things we spend our time thinking about are the most interesting things to read and write about. And I feel the same about film. I love sad films about marriages breaking down. I think they’re great.

I agree! But also, I completely agree – I think these actually are the big things. If you look at what people might say are the ‘big life subjects’, like love for example, they’re all acted out in small ways every day.

On a completely different note, I read that you are also a board game designer, and I'd love to know a little bit more about that, and whether your writing is affected by your work in any way?

Funnily enough, someone asked me that the other day and I’d never considered it, but they said that, because of the pacey nature of Piglet, it feels almost gamified. It was an interesting perspective to me, and I would love to explore it more.

Have you read In the Dream House by Carmen Maria Machado? It's like a choose-your-own adventure book. So, you read a chapter, and it will say, ‘Go to page X’. I think I’d be interested to experiment more with that. But actually, coming back to your question, designing games is my other creative output, and I guess I think of what I do generally as storytelling. But they are quite different. When I’m writing, I’m thinking about what I like to read and would I really like to read this? And when I'm designing games, I often think in a more commercial sense, in terms of marketing and product. I trust in my writing and readerly instinct that my writing will connect with people, and I hope Piglet does, whereas with board games, I think less with my heart and my gut.

And our last question – do you judge a book by its cover?

Always. I don't know if there’s anyone who doesn't. For me, the primary reason for writing a book is for it to be read, and it’s the cover that communicates to the reader what they have in store. I’d love to do a whole research project on that, and also on the difference between American and UK covers – it’s a whole can of worms.

I think both the American and the UK cover for Piglet are beautiful, but having an eye behind the scenes into the work the design teams did in terms of capturing precarity and some sense of frivolity, without being a cheesy cover – it was hard. It’s clever work.

How was the process for you?

In the UK, it was a really wonderfully collaborative process where the designer Beci Kelly had lots of amazing ideas. And I was asked to provide other covers I liked, music that inspired me, and films I like, which was a really fun mood board to put together. And then it was a back and forth of trying to capture the essence of the book without giving too much away. Or I suppose, with Piglet, it’s about not catfishing the reader into thinking this is a romcom about them getting married, because you’re not going to like it if that’s what you’re looking for.

I think they've done a great job! I would definitely pick it up.

And then lick it because it’s just delicious.