The Memoir Land Author Questionnaire #43: Katherine May
The Memoir Land Author Questionnaire #43: Katherine May
"I have no interest in writing about what I already know, and instead I write to find out what I think, or to try on a new idea."
Since 2010, in various publications, I’ve interviewed authors—mostly memoirists—about aspects of writing and publishing. Initially I did this for my own edification, as someone who was struggling to find the courage and support to write and publish my memoir. I’m still curious about other authors’ experiences, and I know many of you are, too. So, inspired by the popularity of The Oldster Magazine Questionnaire, I’ve launched The Memoir Land Author Questionnaire.
Here’s the 43rd installment, featuring , author most recently of Enchantment: Awakening Wonder in an Anxious Age. -Sari Botton
Katherine May is the author of Wintering, Enchantment and The Electricity of Every Living Thing, which touch on nature, spirituality, slow living and neurodivergence. She writes the newsletter and presents the podcast How We Live Now. She lives by the sea in Whitstable, UK.
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How old are you, and for how long have you been writing?
I’m 47 and I’ve been writing seriously for about 20 years, unseriously for a lot longer.
What’s the title of your latest book, and when was it published?
My most recent book was Enchantment: Awakening Wonder in an Anxious Age, which was published in 2023.
What number book is this for you?
Seventh or eighth, depending on whether you count a self-published poetry pamphlet that nobody read. I count it!
How do you categorize your book—as a memoir, memoir-in-essays, essay collection, creative nonfiction, graphic memoir, autofiction—and why?
Electricity was straight-up memoir, but I tend to call Wintering and Enchantment “hybrid memoirs.” They have a lot of my own experience in there, but also many other elements, like folklore, history, science, sociology. They’re not really centered on any one story of mine.
What is the “elevator pitch” for your book?
Enchantment is about finding communion with the world again after the ravages of the last decade. Its starting point is the sense of lostness and disorientation that so many of us feel right now, but it becomes a passionate argument for finding awe in the everyday – small awe, the kind that can sustain us through difficult times.
Electricity was straight-up memoir, but I tend to call Wintering and Enchantment “hybrid memoirs.” They have a lot of my own experience in there, but also many other elements, like folklore, history, science, sociology. They’re not really centered on any one story of mine.
What’s the back story of this book including your origin story as a writer? How did you become a writer, and how did this book come to be?
I was always a writer really – one of my first memories is scribbling pretend words on a page because I was trying to write a book. I wrote a lot until my teens, when I began to find it embarrassing and tried to give up. But I couldn’t let go of the idea of writing books, and so in my mid-20ss, after finishing my teaching degree, I signed up to a creative writing course.
Enchantment connected me right back to that time – this moment in my life when I thought I knew how to write, but realized that I had completely lost the ability to do it. Or instead, I’d learned all the wrong lessons about what it meant to write, and I had to unlearn them again, to soften and allow myself to be vulnerable on the page. I had to do a lot more unlearning after the pandemic – I’d lost the ability to sit down and read, and I was finding it pretty hard to leave the house at all. I started writing about the times when I’d broken down my learning, and then about the big moments when I felt a shift in my life – a sudden revelation. Slowly, they coalesced into a bigger story that surprised me in how spiritual it wanted to be.
What were the hardest aspects of writing this book and getting it published?
I found it such a struggle to write Enchantment. It was the middle of the pandemic, and my brain felt like it was disintegrating. Worse, I felt like I was writing into such an unstable time – what would life be like by the time it was published? I think I must have written enough content to fill four books during that time, and I would send a motley collection of chapters off to my editor to ask which bits made any sense. I’m so grateful to have that relationship, because she would email back and say, “keep this, get rid of that.” Slowly, I worked out what I needed to say.
My books are always very process-led - I have no interest in writing about what I already know, and instead I write to find out what I think, or to try on a new idea. That can make the experience pretty chaotic. I’m not a linear thinker!
How did you handle writing about real people in your life? Did you use real or changed names and identifying details? Did you run passages or the whole book by people who appear in the narrative? Did you make changes they requested?
I’m incredibly careful about the people who feature in my books. It’s mainly my close family, and the responsibility toward my son in particular weighs very heavily on me. My approach is to check with them about absolutely everything I write, but also to always focus the action on me – my mistakes, my learning – rather than on someone else’s mind I don’t truly know. Memoirists wield huge power to humiliate or to cause hurt, even unintentionally, and I tread very gently.
I’d learned all the wrong lessons about what it meant to write, and I had to unlearn them again, to soften and allow myself to be vulnerable on the page. I had to do a lot more unlearning after the pandemic – I’d lost the ability to sit down and read, and I was finding it pretty hard to leave the house at all. I started writing about the times when I’d broken down my learning, and then about the big moments when I felt a shift in my life – a sudden revelation.
Who is another writer you took inspiration from in producing this book? Was it a specific book, or their whole body of work? (Can be more than one writer or book.)
I think the key authors for me this time were Julian Jaynes, Mircea Eliade and Simone Weil – some had more oblique influence than others! There’s also a poem called Miracle by Yannis Ritsos that I kept returning to – it captured the “feel” of the whole project for me.
What advice would you give to aspiring writers looking to publish a book like yours, who are maybe afraid, or intimidated by the process?
I think it’s entirely reasonable to be intimidated – writing memoir is not for the fainthearted! But you tell the story you need to tell. It’s that simple. You might become overwhelmed sometimes and walk away from it for a while, but you keep coming back, and back, and back until it’s done. There’s no hurry, and there’s no obligation to publish anything that makes you feel uncomfortable or unsafe. The writing is the thing.
What do you love about writing?
I mostly hate it. It’s a weird compulsion I’ve always had and I wish I could do something more sensible with my life! Every six months, I write a thousand words that feel like they release something, and then I’m euphoric for about 24 hours. After that, it’s back to the weird compulsion thing.
What frustrates you about writing?
My inability to translate the wonder that’s in my head onto the page.
What about writing surprises you?
I can’t ever seem to write the things I intend to, and instead I end up telling stories I never thought were very interesting or important. These always seem to be the parts of my books that people like the most. It’s a complete mystery to me.
Does your writing practice involve any kind of routine or writing at specific times?
I don’t love routines – I quickly feel constrained by them. But I do tend to write best in the mornings, the earlier the better, and so when I’m seriously trying to make progress in a project, I’ll get up at 4am, make a cup of tea, and start writing. I’m still tired and a bit dreamy, and it makes it easier to get words onto the page somehow.
I can’t ever seem to write the things I intend to, and instead I end up telling stories I never thought were very interesting or important. These always seem to be the parts of my books that people like the most. It’s a complete mystery to me.
Do you engage in any other creative pursuits, professionally or for fun? Are there non-writing activities do you consider to be “writing” or supportive of your process?
I like to do a little needlecraft, but not in any serious way. I’m pretty bad at it, and I generally swear a lot at whatever I’m making. But it definitely helps me to think, so it’s all useful.
What’s next for you? Do you have another book planned, or in the works?
I’m deep into writing my next book, which will be out in 2026. That sounds like an impossibly long time away, but I must get it finished soon. Wish me luck!
"I can’t ever seem to write the things I intend to, and instead I end up telling stories I never thought were very interesting or important. These always seem to be the parts of my books that people like the most. It’s a complete mystery to me. " -- interesting. can't control these things.
Some really good advice in this piece, thanks for sharing your process, Katherine