GALLEY BEGGAR PRESS SHORT STORY PRIZE 2022/23
An interview with GBP Short Story Prize author Marta Palandri
The wildness of human nature – only ever thinly under the surface – bubbles right to the top in ‘Sacred Hearts’, and there is some wonderful imagery. You present a mother who “licks” her children like cubs; who swallows eggs whole… not to mention the children, with teeth like fangs, or “Carly, who looks a bit like a racoon”. Can you expand on this (and did you spend time watching animals, to collect details?).
(One more thing! ‘Sacred Hearts’ seemed to be about the primal, almost vicious nature of the maternal instinct, too. Is that right?)
I have always been fascinated by the inescapability of wildness, and I like to let my characters reflect this inescapability in different ways. Many of the people I create have something within them that is stirring, and it will come out one way or the other. I am very interested in female monstrosity, as in literal monstrosity, and the several meanings that can be instilled into these images. During the writing of this story, I have not observed animals per se, but I try to always be observant of the rawness of things, people, and animals, and I make an effort to carry what I perceive into my stories. In ‘Sacred Hearts’, yes, I did want to explore the connection between maternal instincts on different levels. While I have no first-hand experience when it comes to maternity, I do think of childhood as something raw and primal, and the microcosm childhood takes place in is a unique one, half-feral and half-societal, with a lot of gray areas.
One of the questions that came up in the judge’s meeting was whether this is a story about abuse, or more about the violence and unpredictability of any human relationship. What do you think – or is that for the reader to decide?
Primarily, I would say it is for the reader to decide. I like to write stories that do not force a certain kind of interpretation, but can be some sort of darkened mirror in which the reader can see themselves. The reader knows what it is about, and they are never wrong, because every story is about us (or so I like to tell myself). I tend to surprise myself while I write, too, and I am left looking into said mirror as well. Personally, I would say this story could very much be about both abuse and the violence and unpredictability of any human relationship. Most of all, this to me seems to be a story about a child’s visceral desire to be accepted and loved by his mother, a desire so primal it drives the whole story forward, and blinds the narrator completely to the roughness of the mother.
Let’s move on to your general writing: Are you working on something at the moment? Do you have a routine? How do your ideas come to you – and how do you start to develop them?
I am currently working on a bigger project, which I hope will result in the first draft of a novel in the following months. My routine varies quite a bit, but I generally reserve a small window of time in the evening after dinner to sit down and write for at least fifteen minutes (which often turns into an hour or more). I have to remind myself to take guilt-free breaks, which is in order to avoid creative burnouts, so I try to have writing-free days as well.
When it comes to ideas, what comes first is normally an image. I may be walking, taking a shower, on the underground, and I will see something, hear something, and an image will spontaneously pop into my head. I need to take notes immediately, because my memory is quite bad. So I have notes written on my phone and in several notebooks, lists of ideas. Mostly, what will determine whether this will turn into a story is the atmosphere that image carries with it. Is it moody, damp, dark, and somewhat off? Then I am probably going to use it.
This is the easy part, as I do not control it. The hard part is taking some time aside and sit with the image in order to make it grow legs. Any idea can be great and develop into a rather boring second and third act. It is most crucial, even more important than the writing itself, to make sure that little nugget turns into a narrative that ebbs and flows. Once the bones of the idea are down, I like to discovery-write the rest until it takes shape. Which is the fun part, of course.
Other writers! We’d love to hear about some of your favourites (and whether Angela Carter and Leonora Carrington are among them).
My main influence are women writers of weird fiction, and, most of all, the Gothic novel. If I can get both in one go, then I am having the best reading time.
I like elements of horror, too, and introspective novels à la Ian McEwan; however, nothing is as charming as a good old fashioned haunting.
Among my favourite writers are Shirley Jackson (of course), the Brontë sisters, Daisy Johnson, Daphne du Maurier, Julia Armfield to name only a few. Lately, I am tremendously fascinated by all the new women writers that are being published who lay out their guts in writing and make monsters for all of us to see. It gives me incredible joy.
What’s the best piece of advice you’ve ever received (and the worst)?
The best piece of advice when it comes to writing is probably “Write loud and clear about what hurts”, one of Hemingway’s most famous quotes, indeed, and one that took me a long time to fully grasp. But once you do grasp what “loud and clear” means to you individually, it is impossible to forget.
The worst is probably, and maybe controversially, “Write everyday”. Yes, do write as much as possible! No, do not burn yourself out because today you didn’t write. Allow yourself to breathe in before you breathe out.
Finally, you’re hosting a literary dinner party (time travel is permitted). Who do you invite, where is it, what’s on the menu – and what’s the worst faux pas of the evening?
The best place for a literary dinner party is at home, in a dining room lit by candles, heaping platters of mains and sides and condiments laid out on a long, white-clad table. A very decadent affair. Naturally, a lot of wine. Maybe the guests would be the writers of the best Gothic novels, from Mary Shelley to Bram Stoker, to even Shirley Jackson. That would be fun. I like to think I would have the luck to sit next to Shirley Jackson, and we would end up having an introverted hour of thick conversation about the meaning of houses. Such a dinner, of course, is begging for some poltergeist activity.