Tom Newlands’ debut novel Only Here, Only Now explores what it means to come of age in a forgotten corner of Scotland and dream of a life that feels out of reach. He spoke to us about exporing his hometown of Fife through writing, and the importance of neurodivergent representation.

Only Here, Only Now
By Tom Newlands
Published by Pheonix Books

Hello Tom, congratulations on the upcoming publication of Only Here, Only Now. Can you tell readers a little about what they can expect from the book? 

Thank you! To introduce the book – Only Here, Only Now follows a young girl who grows up with undiagnosed ADHD on a seaside council estate, in an area hit hard by the decline of heavy industry. At the start we find Cora at a moment of rising awareness: of the nature of her friendships, the crapness of her town, of her own ambitions, her place in the world. As the themes of the novel establish themselves – grief, belonging, family, disability, female friendship – Cora’s life will change, largely through the arrival of a shaven-headed stranger. There are huge ups and downs for her, and more than a few mistakes, and as she matures over the four-year span of the book, we witness a girl making sense of her upbringing, and then making sense of herself.  

Setting out, I wanted to write a really vivid book that could tackle some heavy subject matters with warmth and humour. The novel has been very generously compared to Demon Copperhead and Shuggie Bain, but I don’t think any reader will have met a protagonist like Cora Mowat before. 

The novel takes place in your homeland of Fife, but you have lived in London for some time now. How was the experience of returning to the past and to Scotland on the page? 

I wrote the book in the COVID lockdown and at a time when we weren’t allowed to travel it was a great escape to be able to think back to my childhood in Scotland. Growing up there were far fewer distractions, and kids went out on the streets most nights looking to entertain themselves. It was quite a wild time, and it’s funny now, returning to areas where you wouldn’t want to be walking as a teenager on a Saturday night, and they are absolutely deserted. There was so much resourcefulness and spirit and humour then. I wanted to fill the book with that. 

Many coming-of-age stories have been set in working-class Scotland, but few from the perspective of a girl. What made you decide to write Only Here, Only Now from the perspective of Cora, and what new avenues in the Scottish bildungsroman form did this open? 

Women are quite often the bystanders in working class stories. We see them tending bars or in prison waiting rooms, making packed lunches; girls often grow up to be the ‘glue,’ holding families and communities together. Cora is the opposite of glue. She is young and blunt and driven and wants better than what she’s got, even if she hasn’t worked out what that is, or exactly how to get it. When I think back to being at school, for my male classmates there was no real moment of self-interrogation because the culture was built around their needs. A lot of the boys just got wasted and fought, while the girls were taking driving lessons, sending out for prospectuses, thinking about a future. Boys quite often followed in their fathers or brothers footsteps; the girls were restless, they didn’t want to be their mums. A girl like that was the kind of protagonist I wanted, someone that could throw a male-dominated culture like 1990’s Scotland under the spotlight. 

In terms of new avenues – characters in middle-class novels are often afforded a deep attachment to the material world around them, and I saw no reason why it shouldn’t be the same for a neurodivergent girl with next to nothing. Everyone has a family history, most people have possessions and we love our stuff –  it doesn’t have to be leather bound and brought down out the attic of a stately home to be worthy of being written about. I wanted a character who found worth in the youthful junk of her existence, in the material of her life. It almost seems like if it’s grey or shabby or mass-produced, let’s just skirt around it, but not for me – I wanted all that reality in there. 

Cora’s undiagnosed ADHD is central to her voice and understanding of the world around her. With so few neurodivergent narrators in working-class fiction, did you feel a sense of responsibility in representing her neurodivergence? And did you have any other fictional narrators in mind when writing Cora? 

Everyone who has ADHD is an individual first and foremost, and the book is about the big events that almost all families go through; it’s not a book full of awareness-raising set pieces. Having said that, Cora’s ADHD is present on every page; she’s highly observant, her sensory experience of the world is unique, and her empathy, her courage, her quick thinking, her creative brain, her spontaneous and inventive syntax –  these are all related to her ADHD and it’s co-occurring conditions. I worked hard on getting those things right. I have ADHD myself and I’ve had feedback from many female neurodivergent readers during the writing process. In terms of the voice, Willy Vlautin has been a huge influence on my writing.  

Only Here, Only Now is your debut novel; has it been in the works for a long time? And do you have any plans for future projects? 

I took notes for six or seven years while working full time, but I didn’t have the free time or energy to consider writing a novel. When lockdown happened I was given 3 months paid furlough, so I dug the huge pile of notes out and used them as the basis of the book. I’m working on my second novel now. 

Lastly, what is one thing you hope readers take from the book? 

Don’t let anyone dilute your juice! 

Only Here, Only Now by Tom Newlands is published by Phoenix in June, priced £18.99.