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BA: Could you tell us a little about your background as a writer?
JM: Writing has long been a natural form of expression for me. I remember writing a poem in the second grade. It went:
The deer went down to the water
to get a drink,
I think.
You can see why I gave up on rhymes for the most part. I probably remember that one simply because I kept trying to draw a picture of the deer drinking and couldn’t get it to satisfy me. And that may have been the beginning of being a “writer” instead of an “artist” - drawing seemed so much harder.
Traveling was an important contributing factor. I did long stretches abroad before the age of e-mail, and sharing my journeys with family and friends gave me a lot of good practice in description and the telling of the small stories of everyday happenings. The thing is, writers write, and the practice shows. With that development of skill and technique, all you need is something to write about, something you find endlessly fascinating, something you’ll always want to learn more about. Writing not only shows us what we know (and what we don’t) but teaches us insights we hadn’t realized we were capable of. For me, that path was healing and nature - my own experience of healing and my own vision of nature, which includes Faery. Everything I write, even the silly little fables and the nonsense poems, comes back to healing and nature.
BA: Your most recent book, The Faeries Oracle, was done with artist Brian Froud. How did that partnership come about?
JM: I’ve known Brian and his family for a long time. He and his wife took some classes from me, and we because good friends. Then. on my 60th birthday, at a house party at a mutual friend’s home, Brian handed me a bunch of small copies of his paintings and asked if I thought a tarot deck could be made from them somehow. I spent the night sitting up in bed, moving the pictures around as the fae themselves danced around and made wise silly comments.
In the morning, bleary-eyed, I told Brian that, yes, there was almost a deck there. It wouldn’t be the standard tarot form, but it would be a great oracle - and there were just a few essential faery folk missing that he’d need to add. He thought about that, and that evening after dinner, asked if I’d like to do the book for the deck. I didn’t quite jump on him and fling my arms around him, but I had no hesitation is saying an enthusiastic “Yes!” Voila! The Faeries’ Oracle was born! It was a real pleasure working with Brian. He is a truly lovely person in addition to being a world-class talent. He also has a deep spirituality, which informs his art and his life.
BA: Did the Faeries help you write the book?
JM: Absolutely! I could never have done it without them, especially in the time I had. In fact, much of it was almost straight dictation from them, especially the middle part where their descriptions are. They’re pretty good at it too - the editor was very complimentary about how relatively little editing had to be done by the time I let her have the manuscript. They are also endlessly fascinating and entertaining writing partners.
BA: Do you have a writing muse?
JM: Several, really. There are many who just give me ideas, and leave it up to me to bead the thoughts onto a word string. There are others who virtually dictate to me, sentence by sentence - or even, when I’m being “hard of thinking,” it comes phrase by phrase. One, Fulum, (which means something like “educator” or “teacher”) seems to be the principal, who keeps all of us in line, more or less. She also is good at herding cats, too, she says. I get mesmerized by her deep, green eyes in her lovely, elegant, fine-boned face, and find that my fingers have just been typing away… It almost seems like cheating; it’s so easy compared with other, more intentional writing.
BA: What’s a typical writing day like for you?
JM: When I’m really in the flow of a writing project, I wake up with ideas, flip on the computer on my way to the bathroom, and come straight back to the computer and start typing frantically. I’ve often been known to start at six in the morning and not get up from my desk until two in the afternoon when I run out of words. I’m trying to learn moderation, but I think my muse was a slave-driver in a different life. Just kidding there - it really is my fault for not having better self-discipline. Then, after I’ve finally eaten a belated breakfast and perhaps had a little nap, I come back and usually work on editing - corrections and filling in gaps. I normally do a lot of editing and even major restructuring of the book - moving chapters and large chunks of text around before I let anyone else see it. If I’m really deeply immersed in a project or a part of it and things are flowing quickly, I’ll write until I can’t really see the screen clearly, sleep as long as I must, and then start again early the next morning.
Of course, there are days - quite a few of them - that are not like that. When the magic isn’t there and I look at the screen and nothing happens, I have various ways of priming my word pump, but they don’t always work. I meditate - zazen. I draw a Faeries’ Oracle card to think about. I go out and putter in the garden, which at least makes me feel better even if the words don’t come. I might even get desperate enough to clean the bathroom - words may come just because that is such a tedious job that anything else, even writing, would be better. There are days when the computer, even the laptop I love, seems like an alien and incomprehensible machine. It took me years to learn that those were the days when I really needed to give myself a break from the intensity of writing.
Long ago someone told me that a Real Writer can be known by the facts that they read dictionaries for pleasure and that they always carry a pocket notebook and pen for fear that a brilliant phrase or notion will escape. I like little notebooks with flowers on the cover.
BA: What advice would you give a writer who wants to break into the “new age” field?
JM: Know your field and write about what you know. Don’t just learn it from books, but practice and teach it until you have something new and different and helpful to say. Or else team up with someone who does. Write from the inside, not the outside of your subject. Don’t - above all, do NOT preach. We all know we need to be good, self-motivating, clear, loving beings filled with inner harmony - show us how we can do that better in practical ways. If you are a good and noble and spiritual person, do NOT tell us so. Let us figure that out for ourselves from the helpfulness and wisdom of your writing.
If you’re writing about other people and their skills and knowledge, be sure you really really listen to them until you’ve not only understood what they are saying, but have also caught fire with their enthusiasm for the topic, and then let that fire illumine both subject and topic. New Age writing should have creative word magic fizzing in it.
Don’t put other people, other systems, other techniques down. As a way of making yours look good, that is always a failure. As a way of making enemies, it’s a good place to start. A piece of enlightened self-interest: publishers don’t like to publish books that knock the subject matter of other books they might publish. Don’t tell what’s “wrong” with others; stick to your teachings and how they work.
Also, know how to write well - conversational, fluent, easy reading, user-friendly. Keep your tools like grammar, spelling, focus, writer’s “tricks” sharp and in good working order. Avoid pomposity, obscurity and jargon - keep it simple so the profound wisdom shines clearly through the words
Above all else, be a lucky person! And whatever happens, do not lose your cool and turn the publisher into a toad. Toads can’t write cheques.
BA: What are you working on currently?
JM: I have several projects outlined in my head. There is a proposal and three chapters almost ready on a book with the working title of Every Day, Faery Wisdom, which is just what it says - wisdom for each day, as, where, and when we need it - Advice On Alle Matters! After that, I want to do a book on The Green Woman’s Healing Hints. There are also a couple of novels simmering, a book on raising sensitive, intuitive children, and maybe a little book or three of poetry. I’m also thinking about some shorter e-books on different aspects of healing and other topics that excite me.
BA: Do you have any sort of an over-riding goal for your writing?
JM: Yes, I do. Some years back I was given a mission, which is to help bring people back to nature - back to the natural world, back to connection with Earthmama and the nature spirits of Faery, back to our own true nature. I guess that will keep me busy for a while.
BA: We always like to end an interview using some of James Lipton’s questions which gives us an insight in the author we spotlight and it’s fun. Thank you so much for taking time out of your busy schedule.
JM: My pleasure! Truly. This was a great exercise in looking afresh at what I do and why I do it. Readers might find these questions very helpful for looking at their own motivations if they are interested in writing too.
BA: What is your favorite word?
JM: Shenandoah. Just because of the lilting, rolling sound and the association with flowing water. I haven’t a clue what it means. If that doesn’t count, “scintillating” and “numinous” both are great favorites. I have to restrain myself from trying to fit them in even where they don’t belong.
BA: What is your least favorite word?
JM: I’m thinking, I’m thinking… Do I have one? I don’t think I do. Words are magic. Some glow more brightly and others more dimly. One needs all the available shades and colors of them to paint an accurate, clear, and true picture.
BA: What turns you on?
JM: All kinds of things! Flowers! Natural scents! The incredible complexity and delicacy and toughness in a leaf or a twig. Certain voices. Music. My granddaughter’s incredible, fresh view of the world. Hands that know how to touch me all the way to my heart. New insights and ideas. Oh, so many things, we’d be here for days!
BA: What turns you off?
JM: People who think that only numbers matter and who don’t know how to play together well. Poor deluded souls…
BA: What sound or noise do you love?
JM: The wind in the trees, the rain on the roof. It’s lucky that I live in the State of Washington and get a lot of both. Water flowing. Bach’s Inventions played on the guitar by Andres Segovia. John Williams, Julian Bream. Harp music, flutes, drums. Johnny Cash singing. Tennessee Ernie Ford. Mahilia Jackson. My granddaughter’s voice singing almost on key (she is only three) or imparting her bits of wisdom gleaned from her own observations of the world. My cats conversing with each other and with me. The sound of the raccoons dancing on the roof in the middle of the night.
BA: What sound or noise do you hate?
JM: Sirens - the ambulance, police, fire engine kind, not the beglamouring ladies of the sea. They always mean distress for someone. The upside is that they also always mean an opportunity for someone else to show compassion and heroism, but the initial sound and energy of it… that’s hard.
BA: What profession would you be in if not this?
JM: If I could sing, I’d be a singer/songwriter. I might be a sculptor if I could become good enough at it. Or build faery “doll” houses. I’ve been an antiquarian book and antique dealer, a teacher of healing and other spiritual skills, a painter and decorator, a sign painter, a shipwright, and the usual other assorted things. But I’d probably still be writing about whatever was happening in my head and in the world around me, even if no one paid me for it or read it.
BA: What profession would you hate to be in?
JM: Anything involving a rigid routine and an absence of opportunity for creativity. The worst job I ever had was sewing labels on mohair blankets. Not only was it a sneezy business, but the labels had to be exactly so far from the edge, precisely so far from the bottom, and perfectly square. Once I’d mastered getting it just right and invented an efficient system so I was faster at it than anyone else, it was astonishingly boring. To keep from running amok with frustration, I wrote things in my head, but was too tired by the time I finished carrying stacks of blankets around all day, like a particularly witless ant, to actually write them on paper. It was also the worst-paying job I’ve ever had. I think it was two-shillings sixpence per hour.
BA: If heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive?
JM: “Heya, kiddo, you’re late!” And then she’d wave her magic wand over me (oh, sorry, that’s my Faery Godmother) and say, “Now you can sing - get busy on the songwriting. We’ve got a lot of stories to sing here.”
Stumble it!
