How did you become a writer? The direct influence has to be my dad–a writer himself–who raised me surrounded by stories and poems and folklore. I have a classic Lisa Frank binder with snow leopards on the cover containing poetry I wrote as a five year old, scrawled in misspelled gel pen. The early works. And honestly, thematically it’s pretty similar to what I do now. Monsters and fairytales and the like. The thing is, though, for most of my youth I desperately didn’t want to be a writer by profession. I had gotten it into my head that it would be a path filled with too much disappointment and existential angst (I wasn’t…wrong…). By my late teens, however, I realized I only truly felt sane and myself while writing–so figured I didn’t have much of a choice. May as well go all in. So I did.

Name your writing influences (writers, books, teachers, etc.). Well like I said, my dad is first and foremost. But then there’s Kelly Link, Angela Carter, Karen Russell, Ray Bradbury–with whose works I’d like to consider my own to be in conversation. My novel Thistlefoot, specifically, was heavily influenced by Isaac Bashevis Singer and Sholem Aleichem, as well as Libba Bray and Leigh Bardugo. And all my work is deeply indebted to traditional folklore. Old stories, old monsters, which I’m always excited to tinker with in new ways. And then there’s Buffy the Vampire Slayer, which is…well…just very deeply rooted in my soul.

When and where do you write? I wish I had some kind of consistent routine, but I don’t. Basically, the “when” is “whenever I have a deadline to hit.” Mostly I write in bed. I’m a devout bedsman. Earlier this year I tried to lure myself into writing in an armchair in my library by putting up fancy wallpaper and hanging nice lights and plants– but the truth is, you can’t beat a soft bed. People used to give me shit about it, but then I saw a photograph of Sondheim writing while lying flat on his back on the couch, so I consider my argument untouchable now. That said, I’m on the road touring a lot, so my writing bed isn’t always my actual, at-home bed. Sometimes it’s a pile of sheepskins and camping mats stuffed into the trunk of my car. Sometimes it’s a hotel bed. One one occasion, it was a series of sofa cushions a collaborator lined up in a closet in preparation for my arrival, knowing I can only write while very, very cozy. Was I being treated like a fussy little kitten? Yes. Did I mind? No.

What are you working on now? I’m currently finishing up edits on my forthcoming short story collection, Fifty Beasts To Break Your Heart, due out in early 2024–a series of weird, speculative short stories. Short stories have always been my greatest love as a reader, so I’m thrilled to finally be making my own contribution to the genre. I’m also gearing up to start writing my next novel, binging classic gothics for inspiration. Oh, and a friend and I just wrote a book of cheeky fortunes you can interpret with the help of a pair of dice, which we plan to sell at the local farmer’s market while drunk on absinthe and dressed as medieval jesters. We’re calling ourselves Fortune’s Fools Mercantile and Propheteering. So you know…keeping busy.

Have you ever suffered from writer’s block? I’m not sure I believe in writer’s block. I think writer’s block is a term for those who don’t recognize that writing is labor. Sure, sometimes it flows onto the page in a burst of thrilling inspiration, sweet and easy–but that’s rare and precious. In my experience, ninety-nine percent of the time writing is sitting down, gritting my teeth, and putting in painful and tedious work. So I guess “writer’s block” for me is just when I lack the energy or gumption to do the work that needs to be done–which yes, happens all the time. But it has nothing to do with inspiration or lack thereof.

What’s the best writing advice you’ve ever received? This is more publishing advice than writing advice, but it has to be the idea that if readers, publishers, etc. want to reject your work, it’s their job to do that. Not yours. Don’t do their job for them. In other words, don’t withhold your work from the world just because you’re afraid it won’t be accepted. If you believe in a piece, toss it out with full gusto. That’s your role. If the world wants it, it’ll seize it. If not, it won’t. But ultimately, that isn’t up to you. Shoot your shot.

What’s your advice to new writers? Find a writing community (or build your own)! Nothing will motivate, inspire, and improve your craft more than a group of like minded friends. If you can find people to share your work with who’ll share with you in turn, ideally on a regular basis, you’ll find your skills begin to bounce off each other, strengthening everyone. Writing can be solitary work–but don’t forget that at its heart, it’s an art form all about communication and connection.

GennaRose Nethercott is a writer and folklorist. Her first book, The Lumberjack's Dove, was selected by Louise Glück as a winner of the National Poetry Series, and whether authoring novels, poems, ballads, or even fold-up paper cootie catchers, her projects are all rooted in myth—and what our stories reveal about who we are. She tours widely, performing strange tales (sometimes with puppets in tow), and researches/writes for the podcast Lore. She lives in Brattleboro, Vermont, beside an old cemetery. Thistlefoot is her debut novel.