Authors Interviewing Characters: Kelley McNeil, author of Mayluna

Authors Interviewing Characters: Kelley McNeil, author of Mayluna

“McNeil’s latest is a dreamy, melancholy look back at young love…Fans of wistful love stories and intellectual music retrospectives will appreciate the astronomical metaphors throughout, intertwining music, math, and the planets into this complicated love story.”  —Booklist

In MAYLUNA, the story is revealed between a legendary band, an iconic lead singer, and their mysterious connection to a woman whose love helped create the music of a generation. Timing is everything in a powerful novel about fate, regret, and moving on by the author of A Day Like This.

By Kelley McNeil

Look at the rising moon over a concert stage and you may feel a bit of magic hovering in the air. Or at least, that’s what it feels like to be sitting backstage across from Mayluna’s front man, Carter Wills. Close beside him on a leather sofa, sits journalist and filmmaker, Evelyn “Evie” Waters, and together the two give the impression of one individual, two parts of a whole and it feels almost as if one has entered an intimate, private world.

It’s only recently that a book about their lives, titled appropriately, Mayluna, has hit the shelves, revealing their story. Wills, who has notoriously refused interviews throughout his remarkable career, maintains his natural tendency toward reticence, while Waters offers a quiet but warm welcome as I sit down with them for their first interview following the release of the book. 

Having been a part of their lives in the past as the author of their story, we’re not strangers, and they insist that I do away with formalities and simply refer to them as Carter and Evie.

“After all this time, how does it feel having your story turned into a novel, finally having it revealed?” I ask them.

“I think we’re both getting used to it, but we felt it was time,” Carter tells me in his signature gentle, deep voice, laced with a hint of a Yorkshire accent. “We could ask the same thing of you, Kelley” Evie adds, turning a smile toward me. “How does it feel for you?” But of course, I’m not the one being interviewed, they are, I remind her gamely, and I’m rewarded with warm laughter from Evie, who is familiar with the role of a journalist, having been a successful one herself. Nevertheless, she insists that I answer first. 

“I suppose I’m feeling grateful more than anything,” I say. “But I do have to ask, Why did you pick me to tell your story? I mean, you could have picked anyone.”

It’s Carter who answers after considering this for a moment. “You wrote something one time, about how you believe that stories come from intuition. From some other place outside of yourself. That’s how songwriting feels to me, but more importantly, it’s how we feel like we met. How we came to be.” He rests a hand on Evie’s leg.  “Like it was orchestrated. A necessary part of the journey.”

“Evie, you’ve been a storyteller yourself, whether it’s been profile pieces, writing, or films. Did you ever consider writing this story yourself?” I tell her it would’ve made a great memoir. 

“I suppose it would have,” she agrees “but I think when you keep a secret that big for so long, it feels inconceivable to imagine sharing it, even with one person, let alone the whole world. I also think I would’ve had a hard time with the scrutiny. No one would have believed me. I didn’t want people picking it apart. All the reasons why he could’ve never loved someone like me, with my simple life. It would have been incredibly difficult for me, I think. So it was better this way.” 

I tell her she may be underestimating herself. That maybe people would have responded well to it.

She laughs at this, shaking her head. “I could’ve written a whole novel about it ,and I still guarantee it would never occur to anyone that it might be a true story. I’m just me. And he’s…him.” She looks lovingly at the man beside her. “Kate would disagree,” she says, referring to her best friend, “But that’s Kate. And even she had to see it with her own eyes.”

I watch as Carter brushes a finger across her hand. They do this frequently – these little micro-signs of affection that one could easily miss. It feels like they’re existing in their own private, ethereal bubble. I’m just an outsider looking in. Their storyteller.

“Carter, you actually did end up telling the world about her,” I say. “In songs. In symbols.”

He sits with his legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles, and I’ve spent enough time with him by this point to know he’s settled in a bit more. Still, his eyes frequently dart toward the door as if at any moment he might leave. “I did.”

“But you never named her.”

He smiles, the corners of his mouth turning as the two of them look at each other, amused by the statement. “I did name her. I shouted it to the world quite loudly in fact. But it’s often best to hide things in plain sight. That way no one truly sees.”

“Surely you knew she would see it though, or hear it, as it may be.”

“Of course. The music has always connected us. We’ve always heard each other’s voice. No matter how far apart we seem to be. It connects us. It always has, and it always will. It’s what connected us to you, too.”

I should be so lucky, I reply. 

There is something otherworldly about the couple as they sit across from me. Like I’m privy to something unusual and maybe a little ethereal, both of which are words that have often been used to describe the singer, himself over the years. They’re cut from the same cloth and in their presence, one might almost find oneself believing what Carter has alluded to in other rare interviews:

“You’ve said that you believe time travel is possible, and that music is one of the ways we do it. That, like love, it has the power to cross space and time. Do you still believe it?”

“Of course,” he replies with certainty. “Don’t you?”

Perhaps.

In the distance, I begin to hear the roar of the crowd who has come to see the band play and a moment later, the band’s famed guitarist, Alex Winters, enters the room and joins the pair on the sofa, taking a seat on the other side of Evie. He nods a hello at me. 

“Alex, you remember Kelley, don’t you?” Evie asks, leaning into him.

“Indeed, I do.” He gives me a sideways look and a sly smile. “You’re the one who’s been following us around, writing down everything we say and do.”

That’s me, I tell him.

There’s a natural warmth and closeness between the trio. Alex nudges Evie. “You two spilling all your secrets?”

Evie’s eyes light up when she looks at him, the closeness of their friendship evident. She glances at me with a wink. “Not quite all of them. Maybe someday.”

Alex whispers something in her ear then and she laughs as Carter looks on, amused. I can’t help but wonder what was said.

“Sorry, love,” Alex tells her a moment later. “I hate to break up this little conversation and steal him, but we’ve got to go. They’re calling our name.” In the distance, Tommy Rollins begins playing a long, slow drum intro and the crowd roars once again. A moment later, the two men are gone.

I’m left sitting alone with Evie. “So now what?” I ask her. “What’s next?”

She sighs a little, and for her, it’s as if some of the oxygen has left the room. And suddenly, I see what she means. She glows brighter in their presence, just as they glow brighter in the presence of her. In front of me now is a mom, a little tired perhaps, but peaceful enough. A woman who could be anyone. I see the bit of melancholy that has just crept into her eyes, where a few minutes ago, they were dancing.

“What now,” she responds dreamily, mostly to herself, and leaves the question hanging without a response.

A few moments later, she stands to leave. Just before she does, I tell her:

“Thank you for sitting with me for a bit. It has been an honor.”

She smiles warmly and gives a heartfelt reply. “Thank you, too, Kelley.”

As I head out, making my way through the warren of backstage corridors, I catch a glimpse of her on the side of the stage, watching and listening in the lights, while the music plays.

Outside, nightfall has descended, and with the sounds of Mayluna in the distance, I can’t help but look up at the sky.

MAYLUNA

A legendary band, an iconic lead singer, and their mysterious connection to a woman whose love helped create the music of a generation. Timing is everything in a powerful novel about fate, regret, and moving on by the author of A Day Like This.

In the 1990s, Carter Wills was the lead singer of the English alt-rock band Mayluna, securing his place among music legends. His tortured-heart lyrics struck a chord. And so did his secret connection to a woman whose love changed all their lives. Who was she?

Evie Waters’s two grown children discover an iconic photo in an old magazine of a “mystery girl” with Carter: their mother. It all started in a wistful time and place for Evie, her twenty-fifth summer. A young columnist forging her career. Backstage euphoria. A long-shot interview. And an almost cosmic connection with an enigmatic musician on the rise.

What happened between them is a hidden story no one, not even Evie’s family, knows. Until now. Worlds apart, Carter and Evie finally reveal the story—joyful, regretful, and unforgettable. It was a time when the stars aligned for a love so profound the whole world felt it. It was as if it would last forever.

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KELLEY MCNEIL

Kelley McNeil is the author of the novels, Mayluna, and A Day Like This. Her writing is often inspired by the interconnected themes of intuition and the ongoing journey toward personal growth and happiness.

Originally a native of Pittsburgh, these days you’ll find Kelley in sunny South Florida, her current home, with her daughters and a menagerie of beloved animals nearby; or in London, a place she considers her second home.

Stay connected with Kelley online at www.kelleymcneil.com and on socials @kelleylmcneil.

Tags: featured, women writers

Category: On Writing