Grace Murray was born in 2003 and grew up in Norwich. She has recently graduated from Edinburgh University, where she read English Literature and found time to write between her studies and two part-time jobs. Her short fiction has been published in The London Magazine. Blank Canvas was written over the course of a year as part of WriteNow, Penguin Random House’s flagship mentorship scheme for emerging talent. Grace Murray won one of nine places on the scheme on the exceptional strength of her writing, selected from a pool of over 1,300 applicants.

Vicki

Thank you, Grace, for joining us here today. Firstly, I just want to say a really big congratulations on the publication of your debut novel. It’s so exciting to have a debut book out.

At the time of recording, we’re about eight weeks out from publication. How have those couple of months been?

 

Grace

Yeah, it has been crazy and so exciting. I honestly still cannot believe it; it is so spooky in the best way. It is like a dream you have for so long, and then to finally see it come to fruition is just mad.

 

Vicki

As you said, it is a dream that you have had for a long time, but you are a very young writer to have a first novel published, and it is really impressive to already have a debut under your belt at your age.

So, I am really keen to talk about your progression as a writer. When did you first have this dream of being a published writer?

 

Grace

I guess I have always been a massive fan of literature of any kind. I really admire these incredible talents, so that has always been in the background. The National Centre for Writing has been so important in helping me think of writing, and the art of literature, not only as something for fun or pleasure, but as a potential career.

So my personal career feels very lucky, but I also have to acknowledge that it is really a response to, and a result of, large groups of other people who have helped make it happen.

 

Vicki

Oh, fantastic. And with this novel itself, how did it begin its life?

 

Grace

So again, on that theme of being so indebted to several groups of people, I saw this advert for the WriteNow scheme, which is Penguin’s year-long mentorship programme. At that time, I had a short story about a liar, about a woman who lies about her dad being dead, so that idea was already there.

It was only when I saw this advert that I thought, ‘Okay, maybe this could work as a novel, and maybe I can start trying to make it work.’ It was only after being accepted onto the programme and being paired with Ella that I received regular writing deadlines. From then on, that is when I started to properly think, ‘Maybe this can really happen.’

 

Vicki

That is fantastic. I do want to talk a little bit about WriteNow and that mentorship as a whole. For context, WriteNow is Penguin’s mentorship scheme. It is now entering its tenth year, and it is an open call competition. Every year, it receives over a thousand applications, of which only a handful of places are then available. So it is really impressive that you made it through that huge application process, and from such a pool of very talented writers, to be selected.

I would really love it if you could talk us through that initial application process. You have already said that you had this short story that you had been working on, and that you thought it could be something bigger. Can you talk us through what you had to do to get to the point of application?

 

Grace

Yeah, of course. Firstly, thank you so much, that was so kind. In terms of the application, it was a 5,000-word excerpt that they were looking for at the beginning. That was the real appeal of the scheme as well; you did not need to have a full draft when you were submitting it, which I know is especially intimidating for a lot of people who are starting out.

I just went back to that short story that I had written in first year, tried to edit it up a little bit, and submitted it right up until the final moment. I think it was just that first chapter that I submitted.

 

Vicki

When you started that editing process of changing from a short story, which has a very contained narrative, to a novel, which is a longer piece, how much of that short story has been preserved, and how much of it has had to change?

 

Grace

That is such a good question. The arc of her meeting Katarina, I knew it had to begin right in the middle of the story, with the lie itself. I thought about that, and that is where the short story began too.

Just because I thought that, for someone like Charlotte, who is all about reinvention and restarting with a blank slate, it needed to open with the creation of her mythic self, her ‘new self’. It had to really begin there. That stayed from the short story, but what changed was the final section of that first chapter, where she talks about being bad or being predestined for cruelty. That was something that I came to later, after thinking more deeply and more intensely about who she was and why she behaved the way she did.

 

Vicki

Yeah, and I do want to talk about that tension between goodness and badness in just a little bit, actually, because I think it is a really interesting theme of the novel as a whole.

For now, I really want to stay focused on the mentoring process, and the process of creating the novel. I am really interested to know a little bit more about that mentorship, and how that shaped your writing.

 

Grace

Yeah, I was so lucky. The person I was mentored by, Ella Harold, then became the acquiring editor of Blank Canvas. So it was a really long and incredibly useful dynamic, and she really saw it through. She saw the narrative when it was just a few scraps, and then, at the end, saw it become a novel.

In terms of the dynamic in practice, it meant that she was recommending a lot of books. She recommended The Safe Keep, which I love so much. She looked at all these titles that were related in some way to the novel, and it was really useful because I could lean on established works to help inform my own text.

She also looked at key plot moments and whether an image wasn’t working, or a certain line of dialogue. We talked about the American style of speech, and how that dialogue is different from our own speech patterns. It was just so helpful.

 

Vicki

That is so interesting. I was thinking about the American-ness of the book as I was reading it. Have you been to that part of America? Blank Canvas is set in New York State. Have you spent a lot of time there? Is that something you are really familiar with, or was it mostly research online?

 

Grace

I wish I were familiar with it; it would be really fun. Sadly, no. That is another challenge of writing a debut, as you are often constrained in terms of finances.

I would say there was a lot of research. I watched a lot of YouTube ‘drive-through’ videos, where people would just film their normal drive into work. I would watch those to try to get a sense of the town. So, yes, shout out to anyone who uses YouTube for writing. It is a really useful practice.

 

Vicki

Oh, that is so cool. It is amazing how modern technology can allow us to access these parts of the world and enabled you to bring it to life in such a brilliant way in the book.

You mentioned that you worked with your mentor through the publication and editing process. I am really interested to know how you moved from a mentor and mentee relationship into an editor and author relationship, and what, if any, differences there were.

 

Grace

I think the main difference came with the editor-writer relationship. I felt things becoming more concrete, whereas before, because it was a mentorship scheme and publication was not guaranteed, I was still really insecure and unsure in some parts. So it really helped solidify things.

In terms of our conversations, they moved from phrases like ‘maybe we would’ or ‘we might like,’ with lots of modal verbs indicating potential, to suddenly being, ‘this is what we are doing.’ I thought that was a really exciting shift for me to witness.

I also started thinking more about the reader, for better or worse, and that began to play into how I was writing. I think that may have changed the editor-writer dynamic as well.

 

Vicki

When you say you began to think of the reader, what influence do you think that did have on your writing?

 

Grace

I think because Charlotte is such an unreliable narrator from the very beginning, she announces herself as someone who is not to be trusted. I was then forced to think about how much the reader knows at this stage and how much they should know.

You really have to build an idea of the ideal reader. Sometimes I get frustrated by books that treat the reader like an idiot. When Charlotte says things about Katarina’s body, I hope it is clear that I am not endorsing that as the writer, and that the world of the novel is not endorsing it either. It is a function of Charlotte’s unusual way of thinking. I then had to go in and really look at the text and hope that the reader would understand that. Where it was not clear, I had to try to make it more obvious, if that makes sense.

 

Vicki

Yeah, no, totally. I think we are slightly straying toward talking about some of the bigger themes and motifs that run throughout the novel. I wondered if you could, in your own words, tell us a little bit more about Blank Canvas itself.

 

Grace

Yeah, of course. Like I said before, it opens with a lie. Charlotte, the narrator, tells everyone that her dad has died from a heart attack, when in fact he is alive and well, sitting at home watching TV. What this lie does in practice is create the illusion of a new self for Charlotte. She is away from home in New York State, attending art school.

She is surrounded by these new friends who have a kind of sympathy for her that she herself has created through this lie. It is all about new beginnings and the false idea of recreation, essentially. She is recreating this version of herself, which is not quite real.

 

Vicki

As you have already alluded to, it is a really brave narrative choice to have your main character not be the typical lovable narrator. As you said, she herself believes that she is not a very nice or good person, and there is a tension between her perceived goodness and badness and the perceived goodness and badness of others. This also interplays with religion, which is one of the big driving themes throughout the novel.

As a writer, you need a certain degree of confidence that you will be able to bring your reader along with you when the character we are hearing from in this really intimate first-person voice is so complicated in terms of her likeability. I am really interested to know how you navigated that, and also why you decided to tell the story not just from Charlotte’s perspective, but from such an intimate first-person perspective.

 

Grace

I was reading at the time so many novels with ‘unhinged female narrators,’ I think that is the term that keeps cropping up. I was reading so many Ottessa Moshfegh novels and one book called Milk Fed, which I love.

It is so interesting and I have loved it as a form. The female narrator who you both hate and love at the same time. It gives you so much freedom and leeway, not only for comedy, because if you have a perspective that is not concerned with other people’s emotions, or claims not to be concerned, you can get away with a lot more in terms of jokes. I am not sure what that says about comedy in general.

It gives you freedom in terms of the tone of the book, but it also gives you the leeway to explore themes of self-hatred as a projection onto other characters. First person just came so naturally from who Charlotte was, because hopefully, by following her thoughts, we can see that the way she views other people is a function of her own neuroses and mental state.

 

Vicki

She’s such an interesting character to be brought along with because you’re right, everything is from her own very warped, very biased perception. In some ways it can make a reader perhaps very reluctant to sympathise with her, but also she’s not this one dimensional kind of villain, bad character by any sense, she has got this depth to her and you get kind of little glimpses of that throughout.

Can you tell me a little bit about when you decided to introduce these other facets, like how you balanced her unreliability and vanity, and all of the stereotypically negative character traits that she holds and she believes about herself with the very positive relationship with Katarina and the character of Katarina as her counterbalance.

 

Grace

Yeah, of course. I think when writing it, I wasn’t only interested in cruelty, but also the idea of change and whether we can change and to what extent we can change. That’s another way that the first-person narration really helped, as readers can hopefully see her thoughts shifting throughout the book.

I thought about the idea of redemption and how it happens, or how we can try to make it happen. It sort of just followed naturally that her experience of love and of loving someone else, in the novel she starts to fall in love with Katarina, her girlfriend, would make a shift in her thinking. Not only about her own body, but also about the bodies of others and their internal lives, and how this newfound awareness of Katarina as a thinking, feeling person would then bleed into the way she saw her friends, the people around her, and even her tutors.

So, yeah, it is kind of optimistic in a way, about how being vulnerable and experiencing romantic love, or platonic love really, might shift your way of seeing the world.

 

Vicki

I think one of the really interesting motifs that goes through the novel is the female body, and Charlotte often describes in great detail, with either revulsion or desire, the faces and bodies of other women and other people around her, particularly Katarina, whose face and body at the start she talks about with extreme disgust, and then it moves into this space of love.

It is interesting to see how her outward physical perception of beauty is directly related to how good she thinks someone is on the inside. But that does not seem to align with her own perception of her physical appearance, particularly at the start when she is thinking of herself as really bad, yet sees herself as really beautiful and someone to be admired. How did you negotiate that difference in her own perception?

 

Grace

Yeah, you’re right. There is a dangerous conflation of physical beauty with moral goodness in the novel. I wanted Katarina to represent a sounding board for Charlotte’s own mental state. You can really see how she is feeling based on the way she treats Katarina, which is awful, but sadly reflective of who Charlotte is.

In the beginning, she describes the folds of her skin and the texture of her spots, and she spends quite a long time thinking about her body. Of course, I was interested in that as a way of showing Charlotte’s disgust toward female bodies, but I also thought about Charlotte’s attention and how all of it is devoted to Katarina’s body, and how disgust in this sense is a disguise for desire.

What she is really doing is staring at this woman, finding her beautiful and attractive, and being pulled toward her, but because she is so in denial about her own feelings and sexuality, it just gets expressed as ‘ew.’

 

Vicki

I think one of the really interesting things about the novel is balance.

We’ve touched on goodness versus badness, disgust versus desire, and value in religion and art versus a laziness of attitude toward those things. We’ve got distance versus vulnerability, and openness versus closeness. Obviously, we have lies versus truth.

All of these big topics are held in tension with one another throughout the book. As a writer, how do you manage that tension?

 

Grace

I think where the fun happens, at least for me anyway, is in confusing and confounding those two binaries with each other, like desire and disgust. You hold them at arm’s length at the beginning of the book, keeping them at two poles. But then there are moments where, as a reader, you actually do not know which one is which.

For example, when Charlotte is looking at Katarina’s face, her eyes, or the very physical nature of her body, what is she feeling? Is that desire? Is that disgust? I think, for me anyway, the joy is not knowing which one is which. It is a really fun, ambiguous space.

 

Vicki

You can feel that kind of playfulness in the writing as well.

The other thing that really struck me when I was reading the book was the counterbalance of these really big, meaty topics versus everyday young life. On the one hand, it is this big existential novel, and on the other hand, it is a campus novel about a young woman who is feeling lonely, grappling with relationships both romantically and platonically, and navigating her relationships with her family. It is about her grappling with her sexuality, university politics, and paying rent.

I am interested to know how you felt when you were writing the book, and how you played those things off against each other.

 

Grace

I think I am probably getting this really mixed up very badly, but there is a writing tip about how to describe war. You do not talk about war directly; you talk about the small, minute details, like shoes. It is like that poem, ‘For sale: baby shows, never worn.’ That is grief, but it is expressed through small details.

I think in literature, just like in life, you encounter all these big topics that suddenly appear, but they are not expressed through massive ideals. Instead, they are expressed through everyday actions, like putting the kettle on or talking about your day. Hopefully, the book does that. You have massive themes, but they are expressed through art showings, going for a coffee with a friend, and all of these little activities that make up a life.

 

Vicki

Yeah, totally. And obviously to the narrator, so to Charlotte in this context, but also in anyone’s life story, the little details of life are also the big things, aren’t they? Paying rent is just as important and pressing a concern as what is goodness and what is badness.

 

Grace

Completely. That’s very Sally Rooney of you, she says that in Intermezzo, about paying rent. You’re so right.

 

Vicki

Throughout this conversation, you have spoken about the other brilliant writers and books that inspired your writing. What books in particular were you really drawn to during the writing process, or what books were recommended by your mentor? And how did you negotiate the thoughts, ideas, themes, and writing of those books while still keeping your own individual writing identity that you are creating yourself?

 

Grace

I hope I managed to keep my own identity. But if I didn’t, I am flattered, because it means that on some level I have absorbed some element of their style and talent.

In terms of rich novels, I am a big fan of Brandon Taylor, so I was reading anything of his all the time. I also came across a book by K. Patrick called Mrs. S, which talks about infatuation in a lesbian relationship in such a beautiful and exciting way. I read that while thinking about and writing Blank Canvas, so I hope that at least a percentage of that went into it.

And then again, there is that sort of unhinged female narration, which is so freeing and exciting, at least for me. Ottessa Moshfegh, Melissa Broder, all of these absolute talents. Any time I mention them, I get so stressed because I do not want it to seem like I am claiming to be in any way like them, but I am just a fan. I love all of their work.

And André Aciman as well. I saw he was on this podcast, legend.

 

Vicki

I think everything we create is always the product of all the other inspiration around us, isn’t it?

I think you write with such assurance in your own work and in your own words, and there are parts of the novel that are really beautiful at a sentence level without feeling flowery or overdone. Then there are other parts of the novel that feel really stripped back and much more attuned to the way Charlotte presents herself.

I am interested to know, either during the initial writing or the editing process with your mentor or editor, how you decided when to pull back and when to lean forward into the more beautiful elements of writing.

 

Grace

Yeah, of course. That is such a fun question because the beauty, and also the danger, of first-person narration is that you are completely trapped in this head and this way of seeing.

For Charlotte, I knew that because her personality is in flux so much of the time, she changes a lot. She is cruel at one point, then idolises Katarina and others. I really wanted that to come through in the sentences. At points, we get this clipped, absent, unfeeling, unthinking narrator, almost like Rachel Kusky in a way, but not really. That comes out of her desire to not feel, to be numb to the world.

Then when we are in Italy, I hope it leans more into the sensuous, luscious style of prose, which I know some people enjoy more. But it is a function of the way she is changing. We also get an odd circle-back moment, hopefully at the end of the novel, in which she almost returns to the clipped style from the beginning.

It is just a way for the reader to see how Charlotte is feeling through the sentences, I hope anyway. That was something I was very conscious of when writing.

 

Vicki

No, no, totally. I think you definitely achieved that as far as I am concerned.

As we draw to a close here, there is a stereotype around debut novels that the author tends to write about what they know, that they are very highly personal books. But it feels like, from what you have said in this conversation, you are often disagreeing with your main character and are at odds with her perception of the world. How did you balance that in your writing? And do you think there is anything in the book that is you as the author trying to work something out, or is it all driven by Charlotte’s character trying to work something out?

 

Grace

This is such a nice question because it gives me the chance to say that I am nothing, I hope, I pray, I am nothing like Charlotte.

But I guess there are certain ideas and emotions, such as the idea of shame, that I was maybe trying, unconsciously, to work through. Thinking about its origins, where it comes from, how you recover from it, and what is on the other side of shame. Is it complete freedom? Is it joy?

Katarina, in a way, is a character who represents the kind of ideal that Charlotte really wants in her life, someone who believes herself to be good and honest and makes an effort in life and in relationships.

Charlotte is like the shadow in reverse of that. So I guess, in those two characters, I was trying to work out a way in which these two opposing worldviews could be thought about and worked through. Maybe that is the only element of myself in it.

 

Vicki

And finally, before I let you go and enjoy the rest of this beautiful day, are you working on anything else? Do you have a second novel bubbling away, or are you just taking the time to enjoy this first novel and the experience of having a debut book out in the world?

 

Grace

I mean, I am really enjoying it. It is such a privilege, and I am so lucky. I still cannot believe it, but I am just experiencing all of that gratitude and excitement.

I am purely trying to channel it through writing something else. I am working on another project at the moment. As you can tell, I love reading and I love writing, so I am just cracking on.

 

Vicki

Fantastic. Well, thank you so much for speaking to me today and for joining us, Grace. I really appreciate the time you have taken to speak with us, and it has been such a pleasure to catch up with you. I have really enjoyed spending the time reading your writing over the past few weeks in preparation for this conversation, so thank you very much.

 

Grace

Oh my gosh, that is so lovely. Thank you so much for having me on. It’s been incredible.