'It’s an old tale from way back when' || An interview with Ella Risbridger
There’s something that feels very right about re-visiting an ancient, unchangeable story at the start of the new year.
Last night I went to see Hadestown - Anaïs Mitchell’s magnificent re-telling of the Orpheus & Eurydice myth, and it tore the pit of my stomach clean out.
And I wasn’t alone. I know this because after almost two and a half hours of astonishing singing and dancing, thunderous physicality, and raucous joy, and love and hope, and gasping desperation, and rough-hewn appetite and power and noise and fear and building, building, vertiginous, hurtling momentum -- after all of this comes the moment when Orpheus – the fool!!! – looks back. And there’s a blinding, heart-in-mouth silence.
Except, there wasn’t.
Because at that moment - the moment he looked back, and the febrile hope of 1,150 people was crushed underfoot (just as we knew, we KNEW it had to be) – an extraordinary sound rang out from within the audience as someone let out a despondent, guttural moan.
It was such a pitiful sound! Like a soft tummy being whomped with a ball. Just… genuinely disappointed.
And of course, we laughed. How could we not? The show had left our hearts in ribbons! That hilarious groan was practically medicinal.
I’d gone to see the show with my brother, who is one of the wisest people I know. He’s the Merlin to my Frik; the Gandalf to my Unnamed Orc. With typical acuity, he likened the sound to the one Sideshow Bob makes when he’s getting hit repeatedly in the head by a series of rakes.
When we wandered, blinking, out of the theatre, not yet ready to re-enter the world, we talked about inevitability and catharsis, and bullish hope in spite of everything we know to be true. My brother is a Philosophy and Ancient Greek teacher, so is the ideal person to shoot the shit with about these things. As someone who uses phrases like ‘shoot the shit’ I am …. not. But I was the one who bought the tickets, so he was fresh out of luck.
Then, for a treat, we re-enacted the doleful moan all the way down the Southbank, along the bridge, and down the escalators at Waterloo station. Cackling more with every do-over.
Later that night, he transcribed it for me in a text, and I keep coming back to it and chuckling anew.
I think it was just what I needed: the perfect soundtrack for all my wild-eyed, January-shaped promises of self-correction.
Because I, too, am the person who watches the Orpheus story and thinks ‘Yes, but THIS time, he’ll make it! For sure.’
Just as, every new year I find myself thinking ‘Woah. I’m about to be… amazing??? I’m - well, I’m right on the cusp of it! Look out, world!’
In short, I’m a mug.
So when that crestfallen moan rang out like a bell through the enormous theatre, I sensed a kindred spirit. A fellow chump! And I honestly loved them for it.
I’m not going to pretend it wasn’t hilarious. Of course it was! But I’d much rather be the person who lives in hope than the one who says ‘Heh. Don’t they know how it always ends?’
So in that spirit, I’ll share my top intentions for the new year, just in case you’d like to join me in any of them. Or maybe you’re leagues ahead and have some helpful advice or words of camaraderie to share!
No more beef! Unless I’m at someone’s house and they made Spaghetti Bolognese or whatnot. (If you read this as a thinly-veiled plea to invite me round for dinner and WHOOPS it’s a cottage pie, so be it.)
No more Amazon shopping. I’m shaking my little fists at the tide if it’s the only exercise I get. My sister and I are doing this one together, as we both got into a regrettable Prime rhythm last year, and yesterday she texted me this update:
‘I had to Google “Where to buy Bluetooth speaker in real life?!”’
So… it’s a process. (The answer, for anyone seeking an IRL speaker-purchasing experience, was Currys. Faithful Currys!)
Greet the day like a friend!
This one is part of an ongoing quest to channel my two morning heroes:
The ‘Morning’s Here’ guy from Friends. Yes!!! I love that guy!
Abuelita in One Day at a Time. Otherwise known as the goddess, Rita Moreno. Nobody has ever made the morning look so good. That Café Cubano looks positively life-giving! And this scene is a useful reminder that good music in the morning can make all the difference.
I’m actually feeling excited about this one. Not least because I got a toaster for Christmas, which has obviously changed the game.
Greeting the morning like a friend is tricky because it’s a little abstract, but greeting toast like a friend? THAT I can do.
And you know what else I got for Christmas this year? A dressing gown! It’s not the slinky-silky, high-heeled marabou slippers kind, as I’ve long since retired that idea that I’ll ever be that lady. It’s white towelling, it doubles my diameter, and it makes me feel like a roly-poly panda bear, merrily chewing on a eucalyptus leaf. The morning is mine!
And – here’s the real triumph – Ben and I got a new mattress! Such was our desire to bounce, Zebedee-like, out of bed, we even braved the chaos of Sunday IKEA.
This, I now know, was our own version of the Orpheus tale: me, calling out beseechingly from behind, begging him consider whatever knick-knacks I’d just stumbled upon, him: ploughing on through the treacherous path, blinkers fixed and unafraid. Did he look back? He did not!
Did we eat meatballs? We did! Do they contain beef? I have now learnt that they do.
To quote an old friend of mine: Duuuuuurgh.
The Cameo
My guest this week is Ella Risbridger.
Photo credit: Gavin Day
What’s your job title/profession?
I am a writer! A real one! I write many things for money! Sometimes I write cookbooks, and sometimes I write other books, and occasionally I write articles or poems or misc. other things!
Right now, I am writing this interview for you, but also mainly lately I am writing things to promote my...new book! Yes! I have a new book!
It’s called Midnight Chicken (& Other Recipes Worth Living For), and you can buy it on 10th January from all good bookshops!
What would you love for people to know about your work?
I would love people to know that I am constantly drowning in administrative tasks I don’t understand.
(Right now: my expenses spreadsheet.)
What might people be surprised to discover about your work?
Being a writer is, like, 75% luck; 20% making yourself do it; and 5% talent.
It would be best if that 5% talent was actually a talent for administrative tasks. (See above.)
I do not have a talent for administrative tasks.
What made you/helped you to choose what you do?
Boringly, I never questioned it for one second. I just was always going to do exactly what I do. I thought I might be a director briefly; and I would love to be an editor.
But I was always going to be a writer, chiefly because I have no other useful skills.
(See, again: no talent for administrative tasks. You can apply this shocking lack of talent to most elements of adult life.)
What’s your perfect breakfast/lunch for a workday?
This is a terrible question because I love all breakfasts, as is mentioned in my upcoming book Midnight Chicken (& Other Recipes Worth Living For) available on 10th January from all good bookstores. (What I have just done there is carefully encourage you to buy my book; it’s what’s known as a “plug”; and is- crucially- also true.)
No, the perfect breakfast is a dippy egg, obviously.
(What do you actually have for breakfast/lunch?)
If my flatmate is home, she makes me jammy toast OR (if I am lucky) a dippy egg.
If my flatmate is not home, she sends me a text at about 12.30 asking why I have forgotten to have breakfast.
(See q4. No talent for the practicalities of life.)
What’s your alarm sound?
I do not have an alarm! The nicest bit about working for myself, from home, is that I can get up when I like. (I get up at half past seven, though, boringly.)
Do you have a set morning routine?
Actually, I do. I get up at about half past seven; I make tea; I potter around tidying things and making a to-do list for the day; sending any preliminary emails and things like that.
If my flatmate’s around, she gets up at about nine; I make more tea; we have a small but in-depth chat about everything that has happened since we last saw each other the night before (misc. texts; the internet; the news; dreams). Then she makes toast for both of us because otherwise I would forget to eat breakfast.
Then I get dressed. I am supposed to use this morning time judiciously and wisely, for admin-type tasks that I hate doing.
Today I’m using it to do this interview. I should be doing that expenses spreadsheet.
(Being a writer is also being a business! Nobody tells you this!)
Do you have a dedicated/preferred space for writing? If so, what does it look like?
It depends what I’m writing, but not really. I like a good cafe. We have a new bakery near us- conveniently between mine and Caroline’s house! - which is nice and quiet and does soup.
Honestly, though, I can write anywhere. I would almost always rather be sitting on the floor than at a table, though.
Preferred stationary/tools of the trade? Essential work items?
I spend a disproportionate amount of my annual income on Uniball Eye Micro pens in black; and Europa Notemaker A5 lined notebooks. I love these things. My handwriting is perfect in these things. I have probably bought hundreds of both over the years, and one day they will discontinue them and I will be bereft and never write another word.
The other thing is that in publishing, you need Microsoft Word, and you can’t get away with Pages or Google Docs. I know. It is like living in the past. That is just the way it is. They can tell when you’re converting it from Google Docs. They just can.
What are your work hours like? Do you try to create a routine for yourself or is that impossible given the nature of your work?
I am like a puppy: I need routine, stability and also a big walk every day.
Deprived of these things, I become restless, listless and also mad.
So. After I have done my breakfast bit and my to-do list and my admin things, the day becomes much nicer. I walk to my best friend’s house! My best friend is Irish-Book-Award Shortlisted Novelist Caroline O’Donoghue (she too has a book out! Buy it!) and we walk her dog to Greenwich Park pretty much every week day between eleven and one. This sounds luxurious, and it is, but it’s also like having a colleague.
Without wanting to sound pretentious, this time is incredibly important to me as a writer: it’s where I get to develop my thinking and my work. We talk about what we’re working on, who we’re working for, how the work is going, how to negotiate freelance life, how to negotiate publishing, plot points, character development, frameworks, structures, and ideas in general. Probably two-thirds of what we talk about on our big walks ends up directly in something one of us is working on, and the other third is usually scurrilous gossip.
Then I go home and write things until the day is over.
Actually I work until six, and then I start cooking. I have dinner on the table by eight every night, which I pretend is for my flatmate’s sake, but really is for my sanity.
If I didn’t have to stop work at six to start cooking, I would probably never stop working. My agent, whom I love so much, gets cross when I send work emails at midnight. (This is the most glamorous sentence I’ve ever written and I’d be grateful if you’d notice it.)
Do you work with fixed goals in mind or take it day by day depending on what comes up?
This is a very good question! I work with the fixed goals of, like, “this deadline is six p.m, this deadline is on Tuesday, this deadline is in January, this deadline is in September 2020”- and within that I have to juggle it around as new stuff comes in. I have those overarching book deadlines; shorter article deadlines; and “can we chat this afternoon” type deadlines- and this is why I have to make a to-do list every morning, to balance what I’m supposed to be doing.
Also, I have to balance what I feel like writing.
I’m very lucky in that I get to do this to a certain extent: I know that I’ve got ten deadlines, say, and so long as I hit them all nobody is going to mind what I do on what day. Like, right now, I am doing this interview! Because it’s not going to matter if I do my expenses spreadsheet this afternoon or tomorrow instead, so long as it gets in by the deadline.
(Narrator: it was not in by the deadline.)
What inspires you? (Name 1-3 things if that makes this massive question easier!)
I have given this question a lot of thought, because does anything inspire me? What? What does this even mean? And I have decided that what really inspires me is other people’s really good writing. I read a really good book and I think: that is why I do this. I want to make something that is as good as that.
The other things that inspire me, sadly, are being able to pay the rent, being able to go to Waitrose for a treat, and not being yelled at by my editors.
What’s your favourite thing about your job?
Look. To be completely real: I love my job so, so much. I can’t believe I get to do it. I am the jammiest girl in the world. I love making things up for money. I love cooking for money. I love being able to set my own hours and to go for big walks and I love not being insane, which is what I am when I try to e.g. get on a tube or talk to strangers.
I have set my life up basically so that I can avoid the things that give me panic attacks, and honestly? That is the best bit. The best bit is having the luxury to look after my mental health.
I know this is a serious answer but that really is it.
Least favourite?
Have you not read the six previous answers where I make it clear how little I want to do this expenses spreadsheet?
The worst bit about this job is that, like I say, being a writer is being a sole trader is being a business, and I have no head for business.
I don’t like numbers. I can bring tears to my eyes just by thinking about spreadsheets and HMRC and invoices. I hate doing invoices, I hate being paid, I hate asking for money.
I hate this about myself! I would love to be a hard-edged business woman with sharp shoulders! There’s something incredibly pathetic about being a woman, especially, who can’t cope with money. It’s like living in the 1950s but in your own head.
I despise it about myself, but also I have had to own it and pay for an accountant and an agent to basically bully me into all these things.
What do you do to get through days when you just don’t feel like it?
Honestly, if I can possibly get out of doing the work on that day, I will.
I’ve usually got the flexibility to do something else instead, and it’s rare I don’t feel like doing anything: there’s usually something I can turn my attention to that is, at least, fine.
If I can’t settle to anything at all, it’s usually a sign that I am about to burst into tears and need to do boring self-care things like “call my therapist” or “go for another big walk” or “stop looking at the screen”. Because I don’t really stop working at the weekends, I can usually manage to take that time away from work if I need to.
Do you have a go-to treat to get you out of a slump?
Salt and vinegar chipsticks.
Go-to work sustenance, meal, drink or snack-wise?
Chipsticks.
I drink a lot of tea, also. I wish it was coffee but it gives me panic attacks so I had to give it up. This is the greatest regret of my life.
What’s your favourite part of the day?
I have lots of favourite parts! Walking with Caroline on a nice bright autumn day is probably top, but also eating dinner with my flatmate in front of Peep Show is so nice because it means the day is done, but also also the feeling when a thing that wasn’t working is now working. And by thing I mean “thing I’m writing”. That is the most satisfying thing in the world.
Least favourite?
It’s like you’re not even listening to how many times I’ve said the words “expenses spreadsheet”.
How you define a good/successful day?
One where dinner is on the table by eight.
What’s been your favourite failure? One that you learnt a lot from, or one that you can look back and say ‘well I got through THAT, I’m unstoppable!’
The book that is now called Midnight Chicken (available on the 10th January from all good bookshops!) started out as the world’s worst autobiographical novel.
Nobody knows about this novel except me.
It was so bad.
Any hot tips for the old work-life-balance conundrum?
Yes! Left to my own devices, I would write all day every day, and tinker with things from basically 8am to 4am, straight through, and I would never see anyone else, and I would probably not eat anything except toast, and I would not sleep, and I would be insane in four days.
This is why I have the Routine: the walk, the dinner, the bedtime.
I have to go for my walk between about eleven and one; I have to stop working at six to cook dinner; and I have to be in bed without my phone by half eleven. Everything else is flexible except those three fixed points.
Also, at one o’clock an alarm on my phone goes off to remind me to eat lunch. My flatmate put it there.
(I feel like this interview is really making it clear how inept I am at the basic business of living.)
Do you have any hobbies/passions outside of your work?
I think my work is my main one, but obviously because I write cookbooks I get to include “cooking” in the category of “work”, which is a joy to me.
Otherwise, though I have recently taken up dressmaking! I have also recently taken up gardening!
I love both because they are nothing to do with anything else and also I need to pay attention lest I sew my frock to my finger or uproot a precious seedling.
What’s one piece of advice you would give to someone who wants to do what you do?
Get an agent. Get an accountant. Get a flatmate who will tell you when you’re being insane. Accept as much help as anyone is willing to give you.
What’s the best piece of advice someone’s ever given you? (Or worst!)
“You can cry absolutely as much as you want to cry, so long as you’re on the sofa with a cup of tea and something to eat.”
What are you evangelical about recommending to people?
Those pens. | Those notebooks. | John Lewis wrapping paper | Shake’o’cini dried mushroom powder | Muji Log Fire candles | Chipsticks.
What’s your top tip for getting shit done?
If I knew, I would have done that expenses spreadsheet and not this interview.
I suppose: have a million things to do so you can always procrastinate by doing something useful.
Which three songs should I listen to this week?
We have a playlist for our flat, which starts with Run Away With Me by Carly Rae Jepsen and ends with Dancing With Character by Rae Morris. In the middle it goes through DDU-DU DDU-DU by Kpop band Blackpink. These are all good songs for having a small dance to.
Mainly I just listen to the Anna Karenina soundtrack, for reasons that aren’t entirely clear even to me.
Pre-order a copy of Midnight Chicken. Maybe even today? You might forget all about it in the New Year-ish hubbub and then suddenly it will arrive: the perfect Mid-January Treat. Just when you need it! There it will be.
Is this not the most outrageously perfect cover? Now IMAGINE how good the rest must be! Here’s the link again. Or, if you’re eschewing Amazon, I know that you can definitely find Midnight Chicken at the London Review Bookshop, because Ben and I spotted it there, and on the middle table no less! But don’t worry, we all remained extremely calm:
Follow Ella on Twitter: @missellabell.
Some Music
I made a cooking playlist!
It’s a dough-kneading, onion-chopping, acres-of-garlic-peeling sort of playlist - songs to keep you company while you do all the boring bits.
You can find it on Spotify here.
Links!
The Mary Poppins Returns Soundtrack, Ranked by Natalie Walker.
(If you’re on Twitter, I urge you to follow @nwalks at once. I find her talent genuinely curative.)
Actually, what I need people to understand is that if you are not charmed by Lin-Manuel Miranda in this movie, I staunchly believe that’s something you need to work out for yourself. Look deep within your spirit. Are you mad that a self-professed nerd became successful and popular, like the musical-theater nerd Sandy Frink in Romy and Michele’s High School Reunion? I will not stand idly by as a talented, hardworking, and by all accounts — except mine because, again, he did kill my sister in an unforgettably gruesome manner he said was “necessary for the ritual to work” — kind person who uses his considerable Powers for Good is made a scapegoat for your embittered ennui!!! “Natalie, I don’t think a wildly influential celebrity you have never met needs a defense this vehement from you; when was the last time you told a close friend you appreciate them? We should examine …” says my therapist, an idiot.
This is a video of Dolly Parton and Cher talking to each other exclusively in song puns for a full 3 minutes. A better 3 minutes would be hard to come by, I feel:
Dolly! Dolly forever and ever! Over Christmas I watched Dumplin’ twice in the space of three days. I cried both times because, well, I’m not made of stone.
How a Woman Becomes a Lake by Jia Tolentino is a fascinating, furious piece. I read it back in November, and haven’t stopped thinking about it since.
These days of fear and sadness show no sign of abating. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt lake-like—cool and still.
Just as a person does not wish to become a motionless body of water for no reason, girls don’t get to turn into lakes on a whim.
This Twitter thread about why Belle should have chosen Gaston instead of The Beast is surprisingly persuasive.
Ow! Ted Danson Explaining How Deeply He Loves Mary Steenburgen Makes Me Wanna Die in a Good Way. <3 <3 <3
Slain by The Shatner Chatner, yet again: Things I Have Mistaken For Forward Momentum In My Personal Life Between The Years 1998-Present.
I’ve wanted to see Hadestown ever since I heard my friends sing Why We Build The Wall , back in 2016. It’s still an absolute gut-punch of a song.
(From left to right: Ellie Buckland, Katie Martucci, Rachel Sumner, Aurora Birch & Isa Burke.)
Ahhh YouTube just nudged me to re-watch Ellie, Isa & Mali Obomsawin - otherwise known as Lula Wiles - singing Turtle Dove. This one’s a triple whammy: I love this song, I love the women singing it, and I find the video (made by Sean Trischka - hi Sean!) endlessly pleasing.
For reasons I don’t quite understand, the way their gorgeous harmonies slice through the visible cold night air makes me feel as though anything is possible.
And that’s it! See you soon!
Love,
Katya