In The In-Betweens: The Spiritualists, Mediums, and Legends of Camp Etna, Mira Ptacin explores the women of Camp Etna, a community in Maine that is dedicated to Spiritualism, the everyday living world, and communicating with the dead. Through a combination of memoir, reportage, and narrative nonfiction, Ptacin immerses herself in the world of Camp Etna and Spiritualism, confronting her ideas about life and death, and rethinking everything she thought she believed. I caught up with Ptacin over email to ask her some questions.
How did you first hear about Camp Etna, and how did the book come about?
It was really a matter of timing—meaning, I’d hit a limit with how much I could put on the back burner. I had been drawn to Camp Etna and the women in Spiritualism in so many ways that at a certain point, I couldn’t avoid writing about it anymore. Around the time my friend Celia Johnson (co-founder of Slice Magazine) mentioned the camp to me and said I should write about it, I had also gotten really interested in the supernatural, or really, in the idea of intuition and how little we take it seriously, for the most part. But then, after the stress of being a new mother pulled me down, I couldn’t avoid exploring the idea of instinct and intuition and the importance of it. That’s what the religion of Spiritualism and the women of Camp Etna not only celebrate, but build their lives around. To write a book about something means your personal life really marinates in it, so when I found myself dreaming about Camp Etna, I knew it was time to shit or get off the pot. So I started putting together a book proposal about the religion of Spiritualism and the women of Camp Etna.
Your first book, Poor Your Soul, was a memoir (and an excellent one, at that). How was writing The In-Betweens different than that experience?
It was very different! The biggest and most challenging difference for me was stepping back and writing in a different tone and different voice. I was so worried that if my writing wasn’t as poetic or as lyrical as my memoir, people wouldn’t think I was a good writer. I also was worried that if there was no tragedy or intense drama, I might lose the readers. But I had a lot of encouragement from my amazing editors Katie Henderson Adams and Marie Pantojan as well as my brilliant publicist Cordelia Calvert (some of the smartest women I’ve ever met), who said the facts themselves were the already interesting enough, that I didn’t have to razzle dazzle anyone with wordsmithing, and that I should step back and let the story tell itself. Also, this time around I’m not as emotionally attached in the reception of this book. It is a project I created, but it does not define me. And I wasn’t writing this so much to exorcise grief or sorrow out of myself like I had with my memoir—I was writing it to learn about another subculture. It was a little tricky at first to write in a way that was both respectful and utterly honest (or based on my own subjectivity). I wanted to the women who had opened up to me feel like I wasn’t doing them a disservice, but I also had to be honest about what I observed and interpreted. I think I did my best in doing this by getting to know the women beyond the “wow!/weird!” activities that drew me to them in the first place (i.e., they talk to the dead). So once I got past that big thing, I could learn more about them as human beings. I learned that when I approach my writing with honesty fueled by much, much empathy and genuine curiosity, all will turn out well.
Do you think more people are open to things we don’t fully understand or have proof of? Do you see things changing in this regard?
I think society in general is recognizing that shit has not been working and it’s time for a change. And women are being trusted a tiny bit more. I think the less patriarchal the society, the more women and women’s intuition (or really ANYONE’s intuition; what I mean by that is the “feminine” outlook, as they call it) gets some respect. I see that the mainstream is finally valuing empathy—really valuing it—which makes me think we’re on the right track.
You teach memoir writing at the Maine Correctional Facility, right? Can you speak a little bit about that?
I’m privileged to teach the women at MCC. I’ve been with a group of incarcerated women for about six years (some have joined the group, some have been released). It’s just like any other memoir workshop in how it’s run, but these are some of the strongest women I’ve ever met. Almost every single one of them comes from a very abusive past, and nearly all of them are in prison as a result of trying to escape an abusive situation. It breaks my heart, and the system is incredibly corrupt, in my opinion. So volunteering weekly to be their “medium,” more or less, to get their voices heard and show them love and respect in my teaching is the very least I can do. I’d like to do much more. Here’s a link to a piece I wrote about teaching in a women’s prison.
How do you think the creative community can support women, and mothers, especially?
By offering to help them! By getting to know them or being a part of their community, rather than expecting mothers to be a part of theirs. I don’t know what this would look like, though. I mean, with my first book, I had to take my 3-month-old baby on a book tour with me, but some wonderful people I knew (or didn’t know well) would hold baby Simone while I was on stage giving a reading. That was helpful. I mean, even now as I type this, my daughter is in the next room screaming “I want mommy!” at the top of her lungs. Being a working mother can really drive a person insane. But I don’t have a solution. I do fully support the belief that it takes a village, and our society has a lot of fences, unfortunately. I think more than just supporting mothers, we can all support one another. Open up our doors, get to know our neighbors, invite them and their families over for pizza. Be active in schools, be active in our communities. I live on an island, literally, and by living here—it’s one square mile—I’ve learned that no person is an island. We all share. We all help one another. We watch one another’s children (we don’t ask for money). We’re all in this together. Whether we like it or not. So we might as well do a damn good beautiful job at it and start acting like the family we are. Starting with this: offer to help. Even in the smallest ways. Offer to help and ask, how can I help?
What are you struggling with, as a parent and as a writer, right now?
Time management! I’m trying to do it all: write, teach, parent, learn how to be a parent depending how what stage of development the kids are at, learn about child development, be an ever-evolving spouse, walk my dogs and clean up their poop, keep up the house, keep up the laundry, exercise (ha), get enough sleep, grow as a writer. To be honest, if I were more disciplined, I’d get up at 5:30 a.m. and keep a tight schedule, but at least once a week I say, “screw it” and get back in bed, then scramble or improvise at the last minute. I think I’m still catching up on sleep from the past couple of years of writing my book (I pulled at least two all-nighters a week) and catching up on sleep from raising babies. Soon enough I’ll have to stop using that excuse and get back on track with self-discipline and time management. We all need a vacation every once in a while. Especially parents.
What books inspire you, and what are you reading right now?
I’ve got four on my nightstand: Pema Chödrön’s newest book Welcoming the Unlwelcome, Tatiana Schlossberg’s Inconspicuous Consumption: The Environmental Impact You Didn’t Know You Have, Lindsay Sproul’s debut novel We Were Promised Spotlights, and The Heads of Colored People, a glorious short story collection by Nafissa Thompson-Spires.
What advice would you give to a writer trying to juggle parenthood and writing?
Take your time. There is nothing so urgent that it’s worth hurting yourself. Draw a line between the time focused on your work and your children—they feel it when we’re stressed or distracted, and children are perfect and pure humans in need of our love and support. Also, it is VERY hard to do what I just suggested. I fail often! When I was writing my second book, I had a lot of people helping me. I can’t imagine how I would have done it alone (but I know I would have found a way). I do feel that it is a gift and an honor and a privilege to be a professional writer—to have someone pay you to write books. But it takes years and time in the trenches and lots of rejections, and it’s very difficult to do that when you have children. I would suggest a clear-cut writing schedule and an early bedtime, and only accepting work that is worth giving your time to. Ask yourself (frequently): what are your values? Why are you writing? What are your priorities? Kids will grow up fast, and writing will still be there. Ask for help! Take rests. Meditate. Take care of yourself. Be present with your kids. Take your time. Breathe.
What’s next on the horizon for you?
I’m working on some articles and amping up for my next book of nonfiction, which will be some kind of blend of anthropology, journalism, and activism. The topic? Doomsday prepping, or what I like to call “Extreme Homemaking.”
Photo credit: Shane Thomas McMillan