In late 2017, I self-published my one and only animal fiction adventure novel, Echo and the White Howl. Set in the Alaskan wilderness, it’s a gripping revenge story packed with hunts, blizzards, and dangerous journeys, with a mysterious, supernatural edge. It also proved one of the most challenging projects of my writing career.

I decided to pen this novel after my youngest son begged me to write him a story about wolves. Although I initially resisted the notion, rather irritatingly, an excellent narrative occurred to me, and the voices in my head wouldn’t shut up about it. In the end, much to my son’s delight, I had no choice but to write the damn thing. In the process, I learned three important lessons:

Writing animal fiction is bloody difficult

Animal fiction is a fiend because it is tricky to tread the line between assigning relatable human attributes to animal characters whilst making sure their knowledge doesn’t go beyond what they would naturally know. A myriad of choices complicates this, from turns of phrase to the wolves’ knowledge of the world around them. For example, I had to weed out a lot of human expressions from the dialogue or create wolf equivalents. A wolf wouldn’t be unable to put its finger on the problem, for instance, as they have paws. It also gets awkward when describing human devices of which they have no knowledge (for example guns). In addition, when hearing about places beyond their natural habitat (eg cities, or the sea), again, they have to be seen to not fully comprehend such concepts.

Animal fiction is a technique, not a genre

Animal fiction can incorporate everything from comedy to satire, allegory, adventure, fantasy, romance, and more. In my case, Echo and the White Howl is a coming-of-age adventure tale aimed at anyone capable of reading it and up. The book combines atmospheric, dirt-and-snow-under-the-paws Alaskan wilderness realism with a few mystical elements. In keeping with the traditions of much animal fiction, humans lurk on the narrative periphery as an ever-present menace. Key inspirations include Watership Down, Bambi, and bizarrely, Twin Peaks.

Suspension of disbelief: Where to incorporate research, and where to ignore it

Again, this was a fiend. I undertook the usual deluge of research for writing this novel, but how much of it I should incorporate became a constant question. I have included elements of how cubs are raised, how a pack hunts, the challenges to become Alpha, and so on. However, science tells me wolves see in black and white. Needless to say, I ignored the latter point and opted for poetic licence, for much the same reason George Lucas opted for poetic licence when deciding we should hear those cool laser sounds and explosions in the Star Wars space battles, despite the fact that space is a vacuum, and we’d hear nothing were such battles to take place in reality.

Beyond all of this, I had a particularly difficult time coming up with a good title. The first draft was penned under the unimaginative moniker Wolf Story, but try as I might, I could not settle on a proper name. My excellent friend Yasmine Nuoraho, who designed the wonderful cover for the novel, trolled me with many unhelpful suggestions, including A Tale of Tails and Lupine Larks. Yet in the end, it was she who came up with Echo and the White Howl, which is nicely enigmatic.

All things considered, I don’t think I will ever attempt animal fiction again (although never say never), but I am immensely proud of Echo and the White Howl, and dare I say, I think it deserves a much bigger readership. A number of people have read some odd things into it (one person insisted it was a Brexit allegory) but whilst some of my familiar themes are present – megalomaniacal abuse of power for instance – I certainly didn’t write the novel with any clear message in mind. I just wanted it to be a first-rate adventure story.

Echo and the White Howl can be purchased from Amazon here (in the UK), and here (in the US).