Mary Ethna Black, London Independent Story Prize 3rd Round 2024 Short Story Winner 'The Thaw'

London Independent Story Prize 3rd Round 2024 Short Story Winner 'The Thaw', Mary Ethna Black

- Can you please tell us about you and your daily life?

Everything about my daily life is a closely guarded secret until my book ‘Splav – Adventures with my Family on the River Sava’ is published in summer 2026. Until then, I will reveal that I’m a globetrotting doctor from Northern Ireland who is obsessed by rivers and oceans and my favourite bookshop is Bard Books in East London.

- When and how did you get into writing?

I wrote when young but stopped entirely when I took up medicine. Seven years ago, I remembered that I was a storyteller and began to write again. I have completed an MA in Creative and Life Writing from Goldsmiths (fab.), the Faber Academy novel course and many short courses. I’ve won a few things including Irish Writer’s Centre novel prize, Globe Soup short story, Fish Publishing short memoir. Residencies? Bundanon, Cill Rialaig, Tyrone Guthrie and Varuna.

- How often do you write? Do you have a writing routine? And what inspires you to write?

I awaken in my boudoir, don an eu-de-nil silk peignoir, and accept an espresso in a Ming Dynasty tasse from the handsome butler. Then I slide down my grand mahogany banister. (I have lost much porcelain over the years, as I often forget to hand the cup back before I mount.) At my escritoire, I pen the final chapter of my obscure novel. This is optioned by lunchtime, giving me just enough time to design an enormous, green, spangly dress for the Oscars. Here is a picture as worn by Joan Sutherland, who always copies me.

When I want to be a little more practical, I neatly fold my M&S brushed cotton PJ’s, don the same dress I wore yesterday, and head to Bard books for a flat white. I open my writing spreadsheet and spend an inordinate amount of time tidying up the rows and columns. Then, I may write. Or not. Depends on the muse, the news, and the weather. With a looming deadline on the spreadsheet, I can write for hours. Fun fact: I’m a bit of a genre slut. They say the form will find you, but mine is various.

My desk is placed where I gave birth to my first baby 30 years ago, but these days, I sit on a chair and not in a pool; pages curl and computers die if they get wet. Also, I get even more wrinkly.

- How does it feel to have your work recognised?

Writing is a lonely occupation, so recognition of any kind is welcome, especially if a reader says, ‘I enjoyed your story.’ Recognition refreshes like a glass of cool water on a hot dusty day. Or an on-tap spiced margarita from Bard Books.

I recently acquired an agent and a book deal. Time to celebrate! Also, time to recalibrate. Do I even deserve this? The answer is both ‘yes’ (my work is good) and ‘no’ (another configuration of judges/publishers might choose differently). Success also mean loss, of being one of the gang and familiar boundaries. On the trek up the literary Himalayas, I must soon leave the familiar basecamp of emerging writers. I want this and am also anxious.

- What's the best and most challenging thing about writing a Story? 

The answer to both questions is finishing up and pressing Send. Then others take over.

-  How did you develop the idea for your LISP-selected story? Is there a story behind your story? And, how long have you been working on it?

In 1990 I hitchhiked across Alaska and detoured for three days through remote mountains near Fairbanks, adorned with bear bells. Jingling past ursine scat, I encountered my first drunken forest – the trunks lean over when the permafrost melts in spring and are frozen at odd angles when the winter comes once more. Resting by a pine tree with a hurriedly eaten cheese sarnie (grizzlies can smell such sandwiches from far away), I knew that if I encountered an actual bear, my body might never be found.

In 2020, ‘The Thaw’ germinated. Over 40 rewrites later, I pressed Send in 2024. And waited…

- Can you please give us a few tips about writing a Story?

Stories are like mushrooms; they love the dark, so put an unfinished one away and come back some time later. It may have sprouted, all on its ownsome, seeking the light. Never discard an imperfect piece of writing. Believe in it. Encourage it. Stories must be cultivated.

I think of my stories as racehorses with promising genes, destined to go round and round on the rows of my colour-coded spreadsheet. I believe that with enough training, luck, love, and flat whites from Bard Books, they will eventually succeed - somewhere. That’s a double analogy (mushrooms and racehorses). If my editor sees that, she will pen ‘are both necessary?’ Yes, I say.

- What's the best thing and the most challenging thing about competitions? 

The best is my cunning and increasingly complicated spreadsheet (work in progress, competitions, submissions etc). I especially like colour coding things— my L.I.S.P win glows scarlet, while rejected submissions are highlighted in forest green before they are dispatched underground again for a little rest. This is followed by a spiced margarita from Bard Books to raise my spirits (literally).

A challenge: How do I celebrate without being a show-off, or hurting those that are not yet recognised? What does recognition mean, and why does it matter so much? Isn’t a sentence, paragraph or plot that works, enough? No spreadsheet can help with this.

- Lastly, do you recommend the writers submit to LISP?

Answer One. Definitely not. I believe that writers should nest safely inside a hollow, moss-lined, tree trunk to cultivate their mycelium of words, never allowing a single mushroom (or large animal) to see the light of day. Further, writers should state in their will that every word they have ever written is to be composted on their demise and entombed with them in a lead-lined box.

Answer Two. Don’t be silly – OF COURSE! Harvest your mushrooms and get on that horse.

(Note to editor: See?)