Sophie Moran is from Dublin and has been living in Berlin for five years. She has had three short stories published with Fairlight Books and Constellate Literary Journal. She has a BA in English and Film Studies and an MA in Journalism and Digital Media.
Sophie has worked in writing and editing roles since 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!
Q: If you could travel back in time, which of the great writers would you like to meet and why?
A: I take the advice, ‘Never meet your heroes,’ seriously, which unfortunately knocks quite a few of my favourite authors off this list!
Q: Do you have a favourite quote? (From a book, film, song, speech…)
A: I am currently working on a story that is heavily influenced by a quote from F. Scott Fitzgerald’s Tender Is the Night: ‘Well, you never knew exactly how much space you occupied in people’s lives.’
Q: Is there a book that you keep going back to, and if so, how many times have you read it?
A: Two books that I repeatedly go back to are Marie by Madeleine Bourdouxhe, translated by Faith Evans, and Doctor Glas by Hjalmar Söderberg, translated by Paul Britten Austin. They are both slim novels that vividly portray the interior worlds of their title characters (albeit extremely different characters!). Coincidentally, I found them on the same day in a ‘Rediscovered reads’ table in one of my favourite bookshops.
Q: What is the least interesting part of writing for you?
A: That very final check for punctuation and typos.
It was the middle of August when she realised. Night was falling, hiding the world beneath its inky veil. The windowpanes glowed yellow, the light spilling out and illuminating the garden table where they sat. The drum of music floated on the balmy air. The bushes hummed with invisible life. She smiled and nodded as …
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 …