Tell us about yourself and your most current project/s?
I’ve lived in Massachusetts for my whole life, where I collect bones and write just about anything. Poems, short stories, essays, and novels are all fair game for me. Some recent notable publications include my story, “Where Walls Once Rose” in STORYTELLER: A TANITH LEE TRIBUTE ANTHOLOGY, as well as my eco-horror novella, EVERY DARK CLOUD. I am currently enmeshed in developmental edits for a witchy romance I hope will go out on sub this winter.
Where did the inspiration/idea come for this project?
Maybe it’s the poet in me, but I most often find inspiration in words. I love the feel and sound of words like enthalpy, aphelion, oneiric--along with more common images of moss, gossamer, or dappled light. A story for me usually begins with an interesting word or idea.
I also like contrasts. EVERY DARK CLOUD takes place in a post-apocalyptic world sealed in perpetual darkness. The desolation created by this is nevertheless offset by an explosion of bioluminescence. What results is an altered reality that both haunts and enchants. I return often to the interplay between beauty and destruction.
What does the writing process look like for you?
I am very project-driven. I don’t write every day or even dedicate time on the weekends to writing. Instead, I follow each poem, story, or novel until it’s done, frequently taking long breaks in between projects. I don’t have word goals and I certainly don’t know what something is going to be when I begin. A poem? A novelette? Only time will tell.
When I’m looking to start something new, I begin at the beginning: with an opening line that captures my attention: “There is no color in a darkness world.” (EVERY DARK CLOUD)
How do you handle writer’s block?
I think we have more in our creative arsenal than we assume. My go-to if I can’t push through is to switch it up. Put down the story and write a poem, start an outline, revise something recent to ready it for submission. I actually just taught a workshop on “Productive Procrastination” with MetroWest. Really, the kindest thing you can do for your creativity is to allow yourself breaks. Flex your passion, but don’t pull a muscle.
How do you feed your creativity when feeling drained?
I’m not a big follower of writing exercises, but I have a few tricks. First, don’t be afraid to write the same story you’ve written before. We all have forms and arcs that come easier and delight us more than others. For me, I love epistolary stories, lists, and lush description. When I’m feeling stuck or lost, I take my time, following a well-worn path and not worrying about building tension or even character. I just live in the piece. And almost every time, a plot emerges unlooked-for. Writing is meant to be enjoyable--so write what you enjoy.
What advice would you give writers who feel stuck or uninspired?
Surround yourself with things that inspire you! Art, trinkets, seaglass, plants, bones. Keep scraps of half-formed ideas and flip through them when you’re trying to start something new. Try your hand at cartomancy or listen to dedicated playlists for inspiration. Or--and here’s something we often forget is intrinsically tied to writing--read.
What do you wish more people understood about the creative process?
I won’t say don’t listen to any writing advice, but...everyone’s process is different. Some people get it done in the first draft and others slog through multiple rewrites just to get the arc right. You can write daily or weekly if you want to, but not writing for months doesn’t make you any less of an author. If you write slowly, that’s okay. If you start with setting instead of character, that’s also okay. If you cross genres and can’t find a market for your work--know that I’m right here with you. Write what you love and find your people. The rest is out of your hands.
What is the most honest thing you’ve ever written - and did it scare you?
I have a handful of lyric essays and more personal poems out in the world, but I find that often the most honest lines will be hiding in a fictional story. They’re scattered and frequently take me by surprise when I read the finished work back. Sometimes the words you write aren’t so much saying something *about* you as saying something *to* you. In the scaffold of fiction, questions I didn’t even know I was asking get answered. And that’s a strange kind of subconscious enchantment.
