Sophie Moran is from Dublin and lives in Berlin where she works as a copywriter. She has a BA in English and film studies and an MA in journalism and digital media. She has worked in writing and editing roles since she graduated from university. While the idea of writing fiction is something that has always lurked under the surface, it was only when she left Ireland and moved to Berlin that she started – and she hasn’t stopped since!
The fiction she is most drawn to typically focuses on intense character portraits. She loves work with great energy, palpable atmosphere and close observations of the world around us. Her first short story was published last year in Constellate Literary Journal.
Q: If you could travel back in time, which of the great writers would you like to meet and why?
A: I would sit quietly at a table in the Café de Flore listening to the conversations of Beauvoir, Sartre and the rest. Sheer intimidation would probably stop me from joining in, but being a fly on the wall is enough for me. (Side note: reading At the Existentialist Café by Sarah Bakewell is an excellent real-life alternative!)
Q: Do you have a lucky writing talisman? If so, what is it?
A: In a way… the sun! I do my most productive writing sessions sitting outside in the sunshine. This has obvious drawbacks when the Berlin winter rolls around, so I have started doing first drafts in the spring and summer, edits and rewrites through the autumn and winter.
Q: Is there a book that you keep going back to, and if so, how many times have you read it?
A: Whenever I feel the need for a kick of inspiration, I read Marie by Madeleine Bourdouxhe, translated by Faith Evans. I don’t think I ever would have tried my hand at writing fiction if were not for the rediscovery of this book.
Q: If you could teleport yourself anywhere, real or fictional, where would it be and why?
A: The Italian island Pantelleria. This is where the film A Bigger Splash is set and it looks incredibly beautiful and secluded. Ever since I saw the film, I have been dreaming of going there.
She lay on a sun lounger in the garden, the morning sun wrapping her in its rays and whispering her to sleep. Clear thoughts were transforming into the figures and shadows of dreams. She was about to succumb to the final pull of slumber when a cool darkness blotted out the patterns that had been …