Hello Elisabeth, it’s lovely to meet you. Can I start by asking about the foundations of your early writing inspirations? Who inspired you during your youth and adolescent years, and also can you see any aspects of your literary heroes within your own writing?

Hello, Kev, lovely to meet you too. Thank you for taking the time to interview me.

The foundations of my early writing inspirations have to be fairy tales! At a young age, I read many traditional British fairy tales, such as the two volumes collated by Amabel Williams-Ellis. Like many myths and legends, these offered an alternative explanation for events, happenings, geography, etc. and inspired my imagination. I was particularly drawn to the opposite forces at play: how the darker side was a constant threat, undermining any sentimentality in the tale.

Also, from the age of nine or ten, I read many of my mother’s paperbacks – typical pulp horror stories from the 1960s and ’70s, such as the Pan Books. I think the cover art – feral cats and zombies – drew me to these books. Ever the rebel, I probably felt as though I was reading something I shouldn’t.

My mother was (is) also a huge fan of Daphne Du Maurier. Novels such as Jamaica Inn and Rebecca have definitely influenced my poetry, and the synopses of these two novels have parallels with my own life. My father died when I was a baby and shortly thereafter my mother moved in with a man who was very domineering – I grew up believing he was my biological father.

As such, the fairy tales, the Pan Books and the Du Maurier novels showed me early on that writers let their imaginations take them into very dark places sometimes and that it is okay to allow that to happen – although for me it feels uncomfortable at times. In a way, this echoes what Don Paterson says when he remarks, ‘Write about whatever you’re avoiding writing about. There are dragons guarding all the good stuff.’

From reading a selection of your poems, I am immediately struck by the breadth of the topics covered – ranging from conversations based on historical characters (‘Grazini’s Hourglass’), to personal memories (‘My Father’s Coat’ & ‘1979’), fantasy fairy-tales and much more. Is there one particular poetical genre that ‘calls’ to you most, or are you more focused on producing creative writing with a wide scope of feelings, topics and emotions?

I like to experiment with poetry. Several of my poems in my pamphlet and debut collection correspond to the three-part lyric poem principle and are narrative. I’ve heard that there is a movement against the lyric poem by some feminists; I consider myself a feminist, but don’t have an issue with writing lyric poems (in a non-ironical way). I grew up in a violent household with a domineering stepfather – just because I’ve written about him, this does not mean I’m celebrating what he did.

I’m also writing a sequence, possibly a second pamphlet, of poems inspired by the Bauhaus and titled, ‘Form Without Ornament’. You might define these as more experimental, minimalist and loosely ekphrastic pieces.

I read a lot of contemporary US poetry and am in complete awe of poets such as Robin Coste Lewis, Rickey Laurentis and Aracelis Girmay – the way they take the page and are not afraid to own the words they put on it. Thinking of contemporary UK poets – Andrew McMillan’s poetry has a similar effect on me.

Thank you, I’m now immediately researching ‘ekphrastic’ poetry; a term I’ve not heard of but which appears fascinating. Speaking of inspiration, do you utilise a specific pattern of planning before writing, Elisabeth, or is it a much freer and flowing process that creates your poetry?

I’ve become a bit of a workshop junkie of late, and the seeds of many of my poems were planted in workshop sessions. On occasion, I do sit down and plan a poem or its premise, but this is after the inspirational idea – what my mentor, Mona Arshi, explains is le vers donne (from Baudelaire) – has already come to me. Similarly, even with ‘gift poems,’ those that unfold themselves easily and quickly, there is a process of editing and sharpening – le vers calcule.

You’ve travelled across the globe and lived in several continents. How much affect do you think this has had upon your writing style? In your view, has experiencing different countries and cultures enhanced your own creative abilities?

Certainly, living in different countries changed my outlook. For instance, when I first went to Indonesia (in 1995), there were of course very few people there who looked like me, and I was pointed at and/or photographed in the street. This was a new experience for me, and I began to question my knowledge and beliefs. I visited the colonial section of Jakarta and began to think about the way in which Western history has continually asserted itself as superior to all others, through cartography (the Mercator projection, for example) and other processes. When I returned to the UK, I became interested in post-colonialism and spent the next decade studying and writing academically about various aspects of postcolonial theory.

Similarly, when I lived and studied in Iceland, I learned that the Icelanders who emigrated to Canada were subject to being called ‘white Inuit’ by British and French settlers and that there was a hierarchy of settler races in Canada, with white British and French considered superior to all others.

More recently, I was fortunate enough to live in Fresno, California, the city where former U.S. Poet Laureate Philip Levine taught and spent the latter years of his life. Due to the fact that Levine ran the MFA programme at Fresno State University, even after he had retired, there was a thriving poetry scene in Fresno. Poetry had found its way from the university and independent cafes to the everyday – I lived a block away from my public library, and there were rows dedicated to poetry in there, as well as several readings. I discovered the works of several wonderful poets in my local library – poets such as Ada Limon – whom I might never have come across.

In terms of how you write, could you share with our readers how you usually put words down? Does this involve notebooks and pens/pencils, or are you someone who feels the need to write on a word processor, or perhaps using some other form of modern technology?

I love notebooks. I fill them quickly and so am always in places like Papercase. I also only write in pencil with an eraser on the end. Typing up is the final stage of the process for me. I like the rhythm of writing, the cursive flow on the page – it helps with the music of the poem somehow: the breaths, the line-breaks, the momentum, etc.

When I visited Sri Lanka, I learned that Sanskrit poets would write on palm leaves. There’s something very organic and beautiful about that idea – writing on actual leaves.

To follow on from about how you write, could you share with our readers something about where your writing process takes place, Elisabeth? Is there one specific location that you visit daily/nightly in order to get the words down? Or is the process more random in nature?

I find that motion helps with the writing process – Ian Duhig told me that he writes on buses! For me, it’s trains. Some of my strongest poems have been written on the Great Northern line!

Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts with our readers, Elisabeth! It’s always a pleasure to read poetry that moves the soul and excites the senses. I’d like to end by asking you how you think your poetry has changed over the last few years (especially since the influences of university), also what creative plans you have for the rest of this year and 2017.

I feel it’s very important for me as a writer to keep reading contemporary poetry and understand what is happening with poetry around the world, as well as how it fits with, or works against, what went before. I’ve just read a poem in a sequence by Robin Coste Lewis, for instance, that lists thirteen statuettes of black women, such as ‘Venus of Willendorf’, and ends with the parenthetical statement ‘thirteen ways of looking at a black girl.’ This poem gains added meaning when considering the racially-charged titles of Wallace Stevens’s poetry.

I am proof-reading my pamphlet Glass at present (with my editor Ellie Danak), ready for publication in August, as well as polishing my debut collection manuscript, which is fifty or so pages long. I am also working on ‘Form without Ornament’, which might possibly be a second pamphlet.

For further information, please visit: Elisabeth’s website

Hello Rachael!  It’s wonderful to meet you and also to explore your world of writing.  Could you start by sharing your founding inspirations with us? What writers have influenced your own creative pathway, and at what specific point did you truly believe that writing was going to be not just a passion in your life, but a career?

As a child, I was an avid reader. I loved nothing more than climbing my rope ladder into the large sycamore tree in my back garden, taking with me the characters of my favourite books: Peter Pan, pirates, mermaids, Red Indian princesses, faeries, and dragons. Closing my eyes and gripping the tree’s branches firmly, I played out scenes from the stories, exchanged riddles with Gollum, and became lost in my imagination.

M. Barrie was my hero, but I also revelled in J. R. R. Tolkien, Lewis Carroll, Rudyard Kipling, C. S. Lewis, and A. A Milne. I loved Kipling’s asides to his audience (dearly Beloved), the landscape of Narnia, and nonsense poetry. My young mind was full of mythical creatures and places; I still have my copy of The Sentimental Dragon by Grace Cox-Ife, pages now falling from their binding and signed at the front in my childish hand.

I spent many happy weeks in Switzerland when I was young, as my father worked there for periods of time. Those breath-taking mountains, lakes and waterfalls have now joined forces with the fjords and forests of Norway, to create a backdrop for much of my writing. Who could not be inspired by all of these influences?

As a result of my happy experiences in both real life and fantasy, I always wanted to write stories, from being about five or six years old. Of course, I had to be a serious grown-up for a while – teaching, earning money and bringing my two wonderful children into the world – but then, I reached an epiphany when sealing the large, brown envelope which contained the manuscript of The Warrior Troll. It seemed like the right time. Time for me. All it took was one deep breath and a leap of faith.

How did your specific idea(s) for the Trolls begin? Was there a singular event that led you towards writing The Warrior Troll, or did it involve a gentler series of inspirational steps? 

I have never had a bolt of lightning moment in the creation of my stories. They have evolved over time from squirreled away ideas and fleeting moments of inspiration. I liken the notions to butterflies – catch them in a net and then allow them to connect.

The first troll who lived with me was Hairy Bogley. He grinned at me, roguishly, and immediately, we became friends. To while away the evening hours in a small Norwegian cottage, in the middle of a dark forest, miles away from sanity, my father and I wrote a lengthy poem about him, which began:

“’Midst Norway’s craggy mountains,

In a dark and gloomy cave,

Sat hermit Hairy Bogley

Who wasn’t very brave…”

Other trolls followed until I had a whole excitable family of them: Ulf, Grimhildr, Dotta, Snorrie Magnus, Finnr, not forgetting Hildi and the Warrior Troll himself, Thom. It was then that I recalled a strange account my Nana had told me as a child, of a meeting in the woods.  She had been invited into a tiny cottage for tea, by an odd couple who were small, with faces as wrinkled as walnut shells.

The scene was set then, for my first novel. I had all I needed.

You engage in a lot of school presentations around the country, Rachael. In your personal view, how important are the elements of fun and laughter for inspiring young minds?

How else do children become engaged and learn?

When I walk into a classroom with my wicker basket bursting full of trolls, eager to scramble out and tell their stories, the youngsters in front of me are all excitement and giddiness. Every child is keen to talk, to ask questions, and to try imaginative ideas that take them away from the humdrum of the usual format. Familiarity breeds a certain amount of disdain, and the ensuing boredom can stifle creativity, never more so than in teaching. If an author can enter their lives for a short time, talking the peculiar language of trolls, and open their eyes to the escapism of fantasy, it is fun and laughter all the way!

I strive to be different. I want to inspire and enthuse. Imagine how I would have felt and behaved, as a child in the same circumstances – it would have blown my tiny mind!

A fascinating answer, Rachael! That does indeed make a lot of sense and took me back to my own early childhood inspirations. Moving on to your individual writing patterns now, is there somewhere special where you feel that you have to write? Or is it a more random process? Are you a pen and paper scribbler (with optional doodles)? Or do you prefer the rigidity of a word processor? Or both?

I have various places for different stages of writing.

Planning happens anywhere and everywhere. In this stage, I have a special notebook, preferably with a rustic cover, held together loosely with a piece of string and a button, which accompanies me wherever I go. I jot down my random butterfly ideas and make notes whenever they occur to me. If I am cycling and see a derelict farmhouse, I stop and record the tumbling bricks, the ivy clinging to the chimney stack, the sound of the crows overhead.  Crauk! Crauk! Even in the rain. Sitting on a grass verge. Getting soaked.

At night time, the notebook is by my bedside, with pencil, ready for dreamy-headed jottings in the dark, which prove tricky to decipher by day, but otherwise would have been lost in sleep. Travelling on a plane, the notebook is always in my hand luggage, never in the hold –   far too precious to get lost in another foreign land! Recently, my plans have become more visual. I am no artist, but perhaps this is an indication that I am becoming more confident to plan as I wish.

Then the butterflies are netted together and connections are made. The story begins to emerge, chapter by chapter, planned in pencil to free my mind and allow alterations, scribblings, and the flexibility to cross out. My favourite place for this stage of writing is through the troll tunnel and into the garden room. Troll tunnel? What other use is there for an under stairs cupboard, which normally houses only the junk that is never needed? Once through to the other side, the garden room allows me to draw the strands of my story together.

No mobile signal.

No Internet connection.

Just me, my ideas book and a pencil.

Then, with copious amounts of coffee, I write. This is where the serious business begins, and so I need a serious place. The study houses my laptop and I sit, notebook on one side, to tap away at the keys.

The main PC is switched on for research and reference material; perhaps Viking jewellery; how to keep bees; facts about minke whales; toadstools and fungi; herbal remedies; and how changelings were dealt with. Hours pass.

Write. Save. Check. Edit. Write. Save. Check. Edit.

From reading through your website, I’m picking up a humungous love of language and words, Rachael. How much fun do you have with words and the creation of new words in your creative writing? 

Word funneration indeed. Love it.

I adore language and the ever-morphing evolution of its change. I play with words and encourage children to experiment in the same way. A serpent, snake-like monster in The Quest of Snorrie Magnus eel-ripples over stones in his putrid pool of filth. Why use a simple – and clichéd – simile, when you can create a new verb, instead? And how glorious are his “suppurations of oozing ghastliness” and “cankerous gums”?

The Troll Talk in my books has developed into a language of its own. Each book has a glossary at the front to help the reader to translate, but after a few pages, there is rarely a child who cannot understand the language, in context. I can hold whole conversations in troll, and my family regularly texts troll to me, mainly “kissig, kissig” stuff, but delightfully pleasing! The first line I wrote in this talk was: “Gooshty morgy, Thom. Varken oop!” I realised that forest-dwelling, Norwegian trolls needed their own hurdy-gurdy language and so it was born. Whole classes are answering the register now, in troll. “Gooshty morgy, Miss!”, and they greet me in assemblies, in the same fashion. Marvellurg!

I play with the names of characters, too. It gives the reader an idea of their trustworthiness if someone is called Liar-nel, Fiblet or Fibkin. A mermaid is called Miasma for the effect she creates. A frog is called Herpet from the word herpetology; Mr Scarab scuttles from house to house wearing his bottle green overcoat; a kitten has something of the very devil in her –and so is named Lucy-fur; a pretentious slug is called Pearl.

My latest story, currently in production, The Changeling’s Child, has no trolls but word play is still very much a part of my writing. The main character urges her charges on, saying, “Come now, you two! The time is sun-dialling fast and soon the dimsk will be upon us! We must quick-hurry to beat it.”

How much more fun is that, than, “Hurry up, both of you!”?

What are the passions and hobbies outside of writing that bring you a sense of relaxation?  How difficult do you find it to switch the creative mind off and reach this state of relaxation? 

I am asked how difficult it is to switch the creative mind off and find relaxation. I am a keen swimmer. I find it clears the mind of everyday concerns and anxieties, enabling creative thoughts to blossom. These may be story ideas, or solutions to cliff hanger dilemmas, or the possible visualisation of a front cover. So this is relaxation of a sort, but no “switch off”. I run away to the mountains as often as possible. Here also, I am bombarded with ideas and cannot resist the urge to note them down. Once more, wonderful relaxation, but no “switch off.” I love cooking for friends and family – and many an afternoon has been spent cheerfully testing our homemade wine. Relaxation indeed, but…

Why would I want to switch off my creative mind? This is the least stressful part of my life! I consider my writing to be sheer self-indulgence, and any opportunity to disappear into my fantasy worlds is grasped, eagerly. It is other aspects of my life which get in the way, all too often.

Thank you so much for this delightful contribution to Ink Pantry, Rachael – so many of our readers are writing students and it is always fascinating to hear from established writers.  Finally, what future plans do you have for your writing? Do you always see yourself writing for children, or are there plans to delve into other writing genres in the years ahead?

Now that The Changeling’s Child is in production, I can uncross my fingers and start to plan the next story. Tales from the Dark Hole will be a series of books, this current publication being the first of them, and I am relieved that leaving my trolls behind has not caused my publishers concern.

I will always want to write for children: those inspired, imaginative children who climb trees and can occupy themselves with a good story; the children who are thinkers and enjoy embracing something a little bit different; those children who enjoy a challenge; the children who are happy to create pictures in their heads from the words in a book.

The children who I have in the palm of my hand, when I begin to read.

Rachael’s Website

Dr Ben Masters is a novelist, critic and lecturer in Creative Writing at the Open University. He was born and raised in Northamptonshire, attending a state school in the area before receiving his BA and MSt in English from the University of Oxford, and his PhD from the University of Cambridge. He was a Senior Lecturer at Manchester Metropolitan University from 2013 until taking up his post at the Open University in October 2014.  His first novel, Noughties was published in 2012 with Hamish Hamilton and Penguin in the UK, and Hogarth (Crown) in the US.  He has written articles and reviews for the Times Literary Supplement, Guardian, New York Times and Five Dials.

Could you please tell Ink Pantry about your first novel, Noughties ? Also, what were the highs and lows of such an undertaking?

Noughties is a comic novel about university life.  One of the challenges was to write a flawed and often unlikeable narrator who has anti-heroic qualities yet maintains the reader’s engagement.  Just as Eliot is a voracious and slightly bemused reader of books, he is also an over-reader and mis-reader of reality, which creates lots of potential for comedy and tonal awryness.  That was energising from a writer’s perspective.  Noughties is very much a voice novel, so the writing of it was led by the voice and the momentum it generated – this becomes a self-perpetuating way of writing, which is useful for the rookie novelist, I think.

One of the biggest challenges came after the actual writing.  As is probably the case for a lot of first-time novelists, I felt like I had moved on from the book by the time it came out. Growing pains, perhaps.  As a writer you’re always thinking about the next thing and hopefully continuing to evolve.

Your forthcoming book The Ethics of Excess is about exploring the relationship between style and ethics in fiction, considering writers such as Nabokov and Angela Carter. Could you please give us brief examples of this concept, with regard to these particular authors? 

The Ethics of Excess is basically a defence of stylistic flamboyance and the art of overwriting, as well as an exercise in lyrical close reading.  I’m interested in how a writer’s style (ranging from language choice to rhythm, syntax, imagery, wordplay, tone, point of view) might embody or enact ethical concerns and commitments, which I interpret broadly – whether it be a commitment to curiosity, to individuality, to choice, to complexity, or even to discomfort.  So I re-evaluate extravagant stylists like Anthony Burgess, Angela Carter and Martin Amis, who have often been dismissed as morally shallow or circumspect precisely because they privilege style over character and plot, and probe at how their writing styles perform ethically challenging and renewing ways of thinking (how they think in style) and how this might then act on the perceptions of the reader.

You hold talks and read at literary festivals, including the Edinburgh Book and Port Eliot. Could you share your most memorable time?

The first festival talk I ever did was disrupted at the start by a rogue mouse, which sent the audience into a bit of a panic. Like any young writer, I was just pleased to have another audience member.

You have written articles and reviews for the Times Literary Supplement, The Guardian, and the New York Times. What would be your advice for new writers who are looking for a career in that area?

As with all writing advice, it begins with reading.  You’ll already be reading widely if you want to write literary essays and reviews, but I would advise new writers in this form to make sure they read lots of other critics.  Just like novelists and poets, the best critics have their own distinctive styles and priorities.  Find those who speak to you most (or even who animate or agitate you most) and think about their artistry as much as their ideas (the two are likely to be inextricable).

Have you any advice for our Ink Pantry followers on the motivation to write? Have you had writer’s block, and, if so, how did you deal with it? 

I’m not sure about motivation.  It makes me think of someone in colourful Lycra bursting into my study with a whistle and making me do star jumps.  If writing is the thing for you, it will be more of a compulsion or necessity.  (If you do ever need a pep talk, that’s what other books are for.)  That’s not at all to say that it comes easily – in my experience there are days when writing can be excruciating work, especially if you get as easily distracted as I do.  But there should be something about putting words on the page that is essential to how you think and express yourself.

I’m not much of a planner.  I like to make discoveries in the act of writing.  I find that I think in and through writing (I suppose you could classify that as a motivation or reason for writing).  So writer’s block is something to be staved off at all times.  There’s a lot to be said for just making sure you sit down at your desk every day.  But I also find that I solve lots of problems when I’m away from my writing – going for a walk, watching basketball on TV, going to the cinema.  However, that’s all different from searching around for something to write about in the first place.  If writing is for you, a shortage of subjects or ideas hopefully won’t be a problem.

Which authors have inspired you?

When I was a teenager the Beats were the first to get me really excited about ‘adult’ literature outside of the classroom. Reading Amis when I was a student led me to giants like Nabokov and Bellow.  Then there’s Virginia Woolf, Angela Carter, J.G. Ballard, William Golding, Martha Nussbaum, James Wood … too many to name really.

Picture credit: Angus Muir

Amazon link to Noughties