Helloooo!

I recently had the pleasure of reading Marian Womack’s latest short fiction collection Out of the Window, Into The Dark by Marian Womack a wonderful and wide-ranging set of tales and poems that take us into the afterlife, the past and even the far future. They are uniquely crafted and rarely do what you’re expecting them to. It was a pleasure to invite Marian to the blog to discuss this book and a few other things!

How would you like to booktempt people into reading Out of the Window, Into the Dark?

I think we’re all looking for shorter fiction these days, writing that entertains us but also makes us think a little. Without getting too serious, I write as a response to the upheavals we are going through, issues such as the threat of extinction, the rise of generative AI, the erosion of basic security and basic human and legal rights. Hopefully there are stories in my book that will help readers reflect on these issues. It’s a multi-genre collection, including SF, horror, ghost stories, humour, and even a couple of stories in poetic form, so there’s surely something for everyone! A word of warning: I consider myself primarily a writer of Weird Fiction, and I experience the world through that particular lens, so most of these tales may have an uncanny, slightly strange feel to them, even the ones I haven’t set up consciously to write in the weird mode.

Looking at this book alongside your recently re-issued collection Lost Objects I notice we have themes of AI and motherhood as well as climate change. Do you find as a writer that themes ebb and flow, and are they in dialogue with one another?

I think that’s a very good way of putting it: themes are in constant flow, moving in and out of your peripheral vision; but most writers, most artists, works within a cluster of images, ideas and obsessions they constantly return to. It happens organically: they are simply the stories you feel you need to tell. Even if I set out to write something unrelated to climate change, it will pop up in there somewhere; even if I want to write about art, motherhood appears … just as everything is interconnected in life; when you sit down to write, you cannot help but be pulled in by those issues that matter to you. This collection, for example, has been many years in the making and yet, when I sat down about a year and a half ago to see if I had a book, with no idea of what I would find, it soon became apparent that not only was there a common thread around the themes I’m constantly working on, but also, and perhaps for that reason, that the collection is a kind of continuation of Lost Objects. Maybe even a companion piece.

With the stories here have you noticed you approach short fiction differently as you develop further as a writer?

I have always used the short story form to experiment, to challenge myself, and to try out new things, but in the past I’ve also been more cautious. There are very wild experiments in form in this collection. I feel that I trust myself more as a writer now. And of course there’s another reason to experiment with form: not getting bored! Whenever I sit down to write a story, the first thing I try to do is to find ways to make it interesting to the reader, whether this is through formal experimentation, pushing some boundaries, or even mixing unexpected things. I’ve also benefited from working with some amazing editors who have allowed me to do this over the years. When I first looked at the collection it was clear, maybe surprisingly, that some of the most experimental stories were the reprints. I think this says a lot about the healthy state of the short story at magazine and anthology level at present: very generous editors have allowed me to trust myself and take risks. I should mention in particular Tim Jarvis, Dan Coxon, Aki Schilz and Kit Caless, and Sofía Rhei in Spain.

Does being a poet also influence the way your write fiction?

I’ve always written what I call ‘stories in poetic form’, but I am wary of calling myself a poet, especially since I am married to one! Those stories have come into being precisely because of this love for experimentation that I mentioned above: they felt right in that form, and I could not have written them in any other way. But I prefer to say that they ‘resemble’ poems rather than that they ‘are’ poems, if that makes sense … Although, having said that … I have been going through a period of composing more lyrics, which has led me back to poetry, and maybe there will be a little ‘poetic’ surprise in the future. Watch this space!

Choice time: working with Kate Bush or writing for Doctor Who? Which would you go for?

I’m a massive Doctor Who fan, you’ve got me there: writing for Doctor Who, in any medium, is one of my absolute life dreams … And yet, and yet, I’ll have to go with Kate. There’s no universe in which I would pass on an opportunity like that. Or even better: could she do something related to Doctor Who, and let me sit quietly in a corner observing …? I feel she would have a natural affinity to all the wondrous Doctor Who lore, and I wouldn’t for the world miss what she would make of it.

What was the hardest story in the collection to write and why?

I wrote ‘Blake’s Wife’ in a fever-dream, over a couple of nights, in the run-up to the deadline for the manuscript to be finished. Everything seemed done, and then I was overcome by a strong feeling that there was one more thing to say, that something else was needed to close the book and tie it together … I have never experienced this before with any book I’ve written. So, in some ways, ‘Blake’s Wife’ came out fully formed, but it’s also a story which deals with potentially difficult issues, and I wanted to do them justice.

What else can we look forward to seeing from you in the future and where in this weird world of social media can we find out more?

I have just finished a novel that I’ve been writing for the past few years: I’m actually really excited about this one, a Dark Academia take on the stolen babies scandal in Spain, which sadly affected my own family, just as it affected thousands of Spanish families for nearly four decades. I’m considering releasing that book under my Spanish name: I’ve never published under my Spanish name before, with the exception of some academic articles. To me it is a massive step, slightly scary: I have enjoyed the semi-anonymity of publishing under my married name, a pseudonym of sorts. But with this book I feel it’s time. I am also publishing a short collection of short essays next summer, as Marian Womack, a sort of memoir / aesthetic hybrid, which is based around my take on Weird Fiction, the Gothic mode, and eco-storytelling. It’s derived from my PhD thesis, so only Helen Marshall, Una McCormack and Tiffany Angus, my dream team of thesis supervisors, have ever come into contact with these ideas. I graduated from my PhD in 2020, so I am incredibly excited to be able to send these short non-fiction pieces out into the world at last.

I am on social media (Instagram and Bluesky) as maudmarianw, and I also have a webpage, www.marianwomack.com. I can be contacted through either of those.

What great books have you read recently?

The good thing about having writer friends is that I get to read breathtakingly beautiful books months before they are published. Sounds like bragging: sorry about that! I’ve read two particularly brilliant ones recently, both coming out next year and both very different from one another, but both touching on some of my formal or thematic writerly obsessions. The first one is Great Robots of History, by Tim Major. Tim is one of my favourite short story writers, and I am a massive fan of his historical detective fiction, so reading this one was a real treat. The second is Dissolution, by Nicholas Binge, which is as ingenious and mind-blowing as his previous novels, equally ambitious and a truly rewarding read. Nick is an absolute master of pushing narrative form, and he does it so well you don’t even notice how clever it is until you’ve finished reading. These are two books to look forward to in 2025. And there’s another one I can’t wait to get my hands on: Oliver K. Langmead and Aliya Whiteley’s first novel collaboration. I love both their writing separately, so I can’t wait to see what happens when two writers of their stature put their minds and their craft together.