Interview by Spencer Miller
Do you believe in ghosts? In A Good Daughter’s Ghost, sixteen-year-old Rachel Bei comes from a family of mediums and spiritual practitioners—and she could not care less. Rachel isn’t just a skeptic; she’s embarrassed by her mom’s beliefs. But when a seemingly perfect babysitting gig turns creepy, then gruesome, she’s forced to reconsider.
Sam Wilket is a graduate of Simon Fraser University’s The Writer’s Studio and Annick’s mentorship program. Her debut YA novel is a paranormal horror story that draws on Chinese folklore to explore family secrets, the audacity of whiteness, and the ghosts we carry with us.
In this interview, Sam Wilket goes in depth about her publishing journey and writing a horror novel for young adults.
You graduated from both Simon Fraser University’s The Writer’s Studio and Annick’s mentorship program. How did these programs prepare you for writing A Good Daughter’s Ghost?
The Writer’s Studio was my first experience stepping into a (virtual) room as a writer first. I was part of a workshop group with eight other early-career writers, led by our wonderful mentor Leanne Dunic. I was so nervous to share my writing with strangers–and to hear their feedback on it!–but we quickly evolved into a community of like-minded creatives, who trusted each other and were true fans of each other’s work.
Being part of this community gave me the confidence to keep writing and to believe I’m capable of making the kind of art I want to make, and that other people would want to read it. I’m still in touch with many writers from the workshop; three of us talk almost every week, and their feedback on the earliest iterations of A Good Daughter’s Ghost was central to shaping the story. Their support was also key to me sticking with it!
The Annick Press mentorship program supports writers who have historically been excluded from children’s and young adult publishing, and one of my friends from the Writer’s Studio sent it my way. At the time, I only had a very messy first draft of what would become A Good Daughter’s Ghost. The manuscript was nowhere near ready to be submitted to agents or publishers through traditional pipelines, but Annick’s mentorship program specifically says, “we don’t expect a polished, final draft for the purposes of the application.” So, I decided to take a chance and apply.
In turn, Annick took a chance on me. I was accepted into the mentorship and paired with two editors from the press, Kaela Cadieux and Claire Caldwell, who worked with me to crystallize my vision for A Good Daughter’s Ghost and revise my manuscript until it matched that vision. As we worked together, Kaela and Claire became more than just editors; they were true creative partners, and collaborating with them enabled me to improve the story and my craft in ways I couldn’t have alone. At the end of the mentorship program, I was invited to formally pitch Annick, which led to them acquiring the novel and, ultimately, the book you can now hold in your hands!
Writing can be such a solitary activity; this art form asks us to spend so much time in our heads and with our notebooks or computers. I adore those parts of the process, but both the Writer’s Studio and the Annick mentorship showed me how much I also need a strong creative community. My creative work and life are so much richer when I have partners who will listen to my wild, half-formed ideas, ask smart questions, and cheer me on–and it’s a gift to do the same for them.
A Good Daughter’s Ghost is your debut novel. How does it feel to watch your book go out into the world?
I worked on this story for over four years, and for most of that time it existed only in my brain and in the brains of a handful of close collaborators. So it’s still kind of hard to believe that A Good Daughter’s Ghost is out in the wild and people are reading it!
It’s immensely satisfying to see this strange idea I had years ago, transformed into a complete work of art, a physical object that anyone can see and hold. The part I find the most exhilarating is talking with other readers and writers who love these kinds of stories, not only to hear what they thought of A Good Daughter’s Ghost, but also to share other books we enjoy and get into deep discussions about why these kinds of stories draw us in. At the same time, it also feels very vulnerable to take this piece of art out of my safe, quiet little office, and put it out on display for anyone to look at and form opinions about.
So I’m doing my best to relish this experience, while keeping in mind that what happens next with A Good Daughter’s Ghost is out of my hands. I don’t have control over what readers think of the book, and I wouldn’t want that anyway; I think that one of the most wonderful and important things about stories is how they evolve when touched by different readers. I’m proud of what I made and thrilled to see the book in the world, and I also know that it won’t be for everyone–and that’s okay.
There are some truly terrifying moments in the book. What drew you to writing a horror novel for young adults?
I didn’t really sit down with the specific goal to write a YA horror novel.
A Good Daughter’s Ghost started with a character: I had this idea about a mixed-race teen, living with her single mom and longing for a different life. I’m a lifelong fan of speculative fiction and was reading a lot of Chinese folklore at the time, so I also knew that I wanted to weave some of these elements into any story I wrote.
As I followed the threads, the character became Rachel–the protagonist in A Good Daughter’s Ghost–and the story snowballed from there. Rachel is 16, so it made sense to write her story for readers her age. My teenage self certainly related to what she was going through.
Rachel doesn’t feel seen by her mom and blames her, and by extension their Chinese heritage, for making Rachel an outcast at school. Like so many of us, instead of doing the hard thing and talking about how she feels, Rachel tries to bury her problems by spending time with a different family–essentially immersing herself in a different life–that seems much easier, gentler, and less complicated than her own. She’s deadly wrong about that, of course.
This isn’t inherently a horror story. You could just as easily imagine it being written as literary fiction, without any ghosts or magic at all. But what I love about horror stories is that they create spaces where I can stand in the same room as my deepest fears, instead of running full-speed in the other direction, by asking me to look at them out of the corner of my eye instead of head-on.
I think this can especially resonate with young people, because when we’re teenagers everything feels bigger (both figuratively and in the literal hormones-going-wild sense) and that can sometimes make it impossible to wrap our hands around our emotions. So surreal stories–from horror to fantasy–become a lens through which it’s more bearable to explore and experience these intense feelings. Sometimes, these stories can make us feel less alone or even understand ourselves better.
I’m also simply a huge fan of a good horror story. I remember devouring horror stories as a teen and being unable to sleep, either because I was too enthralled by a book or the monsters wouldn’t leave me alone when I closed my eyes. I also wrote A Good Daughter’s Ghost with the hope that it might give some readers that same, delightfully chilling experience.
The spiritual and paranormal pieces of this story feel both creepy and convincing. How were you inspired by Chinese folklore?
My dad is white British, and my mom is Chinese, but I’ve been out of touch with my Chinese family since I was a teenager. As I got older, I became more interested in connecting with my Chinese ancestry. Stories were a natural entry point, so I dove deep into Chinese folktales and mythology. Learning about mythical creatures and magical practices from Chinese traditions sparked my imagination, and many have found their way into my writing as a result.
One creature that strongly influenced A Good Daughter’s Ghost is the shui gui: the vengeful ghost of a person, usually a woman, who drowned in a body of water and whose spirit is now trapped there. The shui gui tries to lure unsuspecting passersby into the water so that she can drown them and steal their body. That person’s spirit becomes trapped in the water in the shui gui’s place, and the cycle continues. When you read A Good Daughter’s Ghost, I think you’ll see the shui gui’s cold, damp handprints in many scenes.
The holistic way that Chinese traditions conceive of magic and spellcasting also underpins the way that magic works in A Good Daughter’s Ghost. In some Chinese traditions, a talisman (which some might call a spell) is seen as a living entity. These magical scripts or symbols can ward off evil, bring good fortune, command spirits, and much more. But they are not simply words drawn on a page. People spend years, sometimes lifetimes, learning the skills to create talismans and developing the spiritual practices to use them effectively. The outcome of the magic can be radically changed by many things, ranging from the type of paper used, to the order of the brushstrokes, to the mental and emotional state of the person casting the spell. These traditions, and the importance of respecting them, are central to the story.
Within the depths of this ghost story, Rachel also confronts real-world horrors such as racism, bullying, and grief. What do you hope teen readers take away from Rachel’s journey?
If there’s one underlying message that I hope readers take away from this A Good Daughter’s Ghost, it’s that ignoring your feelings–especially the most difficult ones–doesn’t make them go away. In fact, much like a broken bone, an emotional wound left untreated can heal at odd angles, cause chronic pain, and at worst, fester and rot. There is power and strength in sitting with feelings like grief or exclusion, even if they sometimes feel like weakness. As many of the characters in A Good Daughter’s Ghost demonstrate, refusing to acknowledge those feelings or trying to plaster over them is where true weakness–and, often, danger–lies.
I also hope that Rachel and her story make other mixed-race teens feel seen. As a kid, I was always looking for characters who looked like me and stories that reflected my experiences of growing up mixed-race. Experiences like being part of, but never wholly belonging to, more than one distinct culture, and feeling the allure of proximity to whiteness and how it shaped my relationship with my Chinese heritage, because of white supremacy culture I was (and we are) surrounded by. Stories that reflected the distinct experience of growing up mixed-race were rare when I was a teen and, while there are more now, there still aren’t enough. I hope that other people looking for these kinds of stories find their way to Rachel and A Good Daughter’s Ghost.
Ultimately, I hope readers find A Good Daughter’s Ghost a delightfully creepy ride and that the story haunts them (in a good way!) even after they’ve turned the final page.
* * *
Disclaimer
Interview responses reflect the views of the interview subjects. Opinions and views expressed by interview subjects are their own and are published as part of the CCBC’s coverage of Canadian children’s books and creators. Please see our Editorial Policy for further details.