The town of Littleport, Maine, is a fictional place, created for this story. But it’s a place I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about. It’s a place that seems real in my mind. Looking back at the journey of this book, I realized that thinking about the dynamics of this fictional town ended up shaping the story—from beginning to end.
I tend to explore themes as questions, not necessarily with an answer in mind. And there are themes I find myself drawn to over and over again, in stories: personal identity; how the past influences the present; complicated friendships; how perspective changes over time.
But there was a new theme that I became fascinated with as I was writing “The Last House Guest”: Power. It seemed logical that I’d start thinking about power dynamics from the start, as this element was built into the foundation of the town itself. There are the year-long residents of Littleport, Maine, whose livelihoods rely in service to the visitors. And there are the wealthy families who come in for the summer season, who seem to believe the town belongs to them—at least temporarily.
At first, I set out to explore how this power imbalance might shape the way the town works and the way each group feels about the other—this push and pull of both needing and resenting people; or of coming into a place, but maybe only seeing the surface layer of things.
The friendship of Avery and Sadie emerged across this divide: Avery, who grew up in the town; and Sadie, from a powerful family who returns each year. There seemed to be a power imbalance present at the core of their relationship from the start, and I wanted this dynamic to reflect the larger one of the town itself. But it ended up weaving its way even deeper, ultimately shaping the twists and turns of the plot.
The more I wrote about these characters, the more the question of power came into play. I started to ask myself: What gives someone power? Is it really what you possess? Is it your perceived status and the influence that grants you? Or could it be something more—something hidden under the surface?
I came to see the different facets of power, both in the town of Littleport, and in the nuances of each relationship. The loud types of power, and the quiet types. As a writer, I am endlessly fascinated by the latter. There’s the story on the surface, and then there’s the layer underneath, quietly simmering, and waiting.
At the start of the book, there’s a purging of secrets at the annual, end of season Plus-One Party—a game played by the locals and visitors alike. An “I know a secret about you” exercise in power.
I started to wonder if this dynamic was so prevalent in town that it was built into the very fabric of their identity; this yearning for control. I wanted to unearth what was simmering underneath.
These were the questions I’d ask at every turn: Who has the power in this moment, and why? Or, to be more accurate: Who believes they have the power?
The plot ended up growing from these very questions. It’s a thrumming undercurrent throughout the story. The perception of power could spark jealousy, or fear, or revenge. Power could be wielded, or it could be used for good. And it was really in those choices that each character revealed herself or himself. What each character was willing to do to achieve a slice of that power—either within a family, a business, a community, a relationship.
This journey led me to some unexpected discoveries at the heart of each character’s story—and my own process. It’s why I usually don’t know the end of the book when I start. Because I’m not sure yet, what each character would do. When I first meet them, I’m not sure what they’re capable of, what they’ll do under pressure. It’s in these small moments that I learn which type of person they are—or are set to become.
For me, characters always come before story, and I think I’ve finally put my finger on why: It’s the little decisions along the way that twist the story, that send it to unexpected places. Those aha thrilling moments always come from somewhere within.
But what I learned by the end was that, at the heart of so many of the characters’ journeys was the same basic yearning: the desire to determine one’s own life; to control one’s own fate.
