Carrie Birde on Writing from the "Bright Wood" Within
How a friendship with a Catbird inspired a literary fairy tale
Greetings, friends.
With great pleasure I welcome to Writers at the Well debut novelist Carrie Birde, whose book A Small Tale of Uncommon Grace will be published Friday, September 19, 2025 by Blydyn Square Books.
Carrie Birde is a poet, fiction writer, artist, and amateur photographer. She reads a wide range of genres, including mythology, folk tales, and fairy tales. Like many characters in those stories, she has personal friendships with wild animals and birds who know her by face. Carrie practices yoga, qigong, forest bathing, and a variety of art forms, all of which fuel her writing life. She lives with her husband and son in Boonton NJ, a place she affectionately calls her “Boonton Bubble.”
Birde’s protagonist, Grace, wakes up one day suddenly able to communicate with animals. A Small Tale of Uncommon Grace is a fairy tale for our modern world, asking us to ponder the question: What if those who seem like they might be "witches" are the very same people who can save the world?
In our podcast interview, Carrie goes into greater depth about her road to publication, and the unique spiritual and artistic practices that help her transmute suffering—her own and the world’s—into daily acts of beauty. You can find that conversation on Apple, Spotify or wherever you find podcasts.
I hope you enjoy this heartfelt interview about things ordinary and extraordinary.
Yours at the well,
Tess
Your protagonist Grace is an ordinary person suddenly gifted with an extraordinary power. Her story invites us to imagine what the world might look like if, instead of marginalizing those who don’t fit societal norms, we embraced them and their unique talents. What prompted this inquiry for you?
Grace is an ordinary young woman who experiences a subtle, yet profound transformation. This isn’t, in and of itself, particularly unusual – fantasy, science fiction, folktales and fairy tales abound with stories of such individuals. Often, these characters are exiled and “otherized” for their arcane knowledge and pushed to the edges of their communities or abandoned entirely because they no longer fit their society’s standards. Yet, they are necessary to their communities for the very qualities that cause their rejection. I wanted to explore the idea of transformation and its potential effects on both the individual and her community from a more positive perspective – what if Grace’s family and village accept and support her as she navigates her new-found abilities? What if, though unexpected and uncommon, they see her metamorphosis as enhancing their community’s wellbeing? Of course, the parallels to this can be as easily applied beyond the book’s pages.
What is your own relationship to the ordinary and extraordinary? How do they interplay in your life?
I’ve had a deep yearning for the extraordinary since childhood and am constantly, actively in search of it. While growing up, I felt emotionally isolated and overwhelmed by my experience of “ordinary” life. My main escape was reading – I pored over fairy tales, folk tales, fantasy, and anything that hinted at the magical. The idea that connection could be found and felt beyond humans was an enormous balm to my young self. I craved contact with animals – I saw myself in them… their vulnerability and dependence on the actions of adult humans. Whenever I managed to bridge the gap and make some small contact with an animal, it felt like pure magic!
As adults, our main challenge of glimpsing and connecting with the “extraordinary”, is that we expect it to be some earth-shattering vision or experience, and it’s usually much more subtle and hiding in plain sight. Because our lives are busy, and we feel we must constantly prove our “productiveness”, we tend to rush past the extraordinary; we lose sight of it because of its very presence, and then notice it keenly in its absence. For me, magic inhabits small, overlooked spaces – the season’s effects on my small yard and all the beings I share it with; my daily interactions and connections with others contain opportunity for the extraordinary. Developing a talent for seeking out and appreciating the astonishing expression of life and beauty that surrounds us is essential – I include myself here, because too often, I can become eroded by “the world at large”, and my sensing-self dulled to appreciating the small pocket of wonder I’m fortunate to inhabit.
Have you ever received or witnessed such an unbidden ability?
I love sharing this story, so make yourself comfortable! About twelve years ago, I had an incredible experience – a bird initiated a relationship. I’d been working in the garden, digging up weeds, when I realized a Gray Catbird observed me from the little red maple nearby. As I turned the soil over and unearthed grubs, I felt the keenness of its attention, and it flew down and snatched up the grubs I flicked over the grass toward it. When I ran out of grubs and asked the bird to wait while I got raisins – it did. Now, I’m not saying that this bird comprehended human speech, but somehow, in that moment, we transcended our separate experiences and co-created a basis of understanding. Gray catbirds are seasonal residents here. But, for ten years, this specific bird returned like clockwork – I knew it by the tiny line of feathers missing across its right eye. This became a ten-year relationship, where the Catbird would find me in the yard and wait for raisins. He’d even perch at the top of the burning bush outside my bedroom window and sing early each morning to get my attention. I’d go to the window, say hello, ask him to meet me at the side door downstairs, and find him waiting outside on the side door’s railing. By this time, my husband and son were involved. Over the years, that Catbird brought his mate and fledglings to meet us as if letting them know we were allied. The oldest known living Gray Catbird in the wild has been recorded as seventeen years old. We had ten incredible seasons with ours. His descendants visited for a few years, but no longer. I miss the connection deeply… but I’m so very glad to have had it at all – just because we happened to be at the right place at the right time and were paying attention. Now, it’s Blue Jays, chipmunks, and squirrels. The rabbits are very wary of us. (Incidentally, Catbird shares my book’s dedication with my husband and son.)
Grace’s ability to communicate with animals proves useful to farmers and the local veterinarian but poses a threat to the greedy ambitions of others determined to stop her. Can you speak to your interest in psychic powers and the repercussions for those who possess them?
I hold a lot of contradictory personal views – I don’t really believe in ghosts, but I can’t explain certain events during my teenaged years that occurred in a friend’s house; I don’t really believe in reincarnation, but then I feel that my husband and I have known each other far longer than we’ve inhabited these particular bodies. So, I don’t know if I believe in psychic powers as they’re generally explained or understood. However, I do believe in Nature, our deep sensing-selves, and our interconnectivity. I suspect there are many who are extremely attentive, observant, patient, and empathetic to others and the natural world, which allows them to discern, connect to, and see a larger interplay of dynamics that most of us gloss over or dismiss. I believe that we enter this world fully open to connection to everything around us – but, by necessity, and for convenience, much of this is pruned away so that we fit our family structures and societal expectations. Those who manage to maintain that earliest connection and foster it, can fit the descriptions of sage, seer, or psychic. But, at our hearts, in our deepest centers of self – frequently, through our dreams – I believe we all have this capacity and that many of us yearn for it but don’t recognize it for what it is – the desire to connect to and understand each other, our natural world, and our place in it.
How do Grace’s loved ones respond to her new power? How have you navigated dramatic shifts in your own life or the lives of those close to you?
I wanted to write a story about someone who experiences a profound change, but has the good fortune to be part of a strong family structure and supportive community. Grace is that person. Yes, her parents are concerned for and protective of her wellbeing, and there are those in her community who feel they will benefit from her new-fledged ability. But, the majority of those involved make space for her to grow into her transformation with love and support. Even Thaniel, the village’s veterinarian, who we realize early on has been in love with Grace for some time, gives her space to learn how to understand her own needs and desires in relation to her new self before suggesting her new talent could be of great help to him and his practice.
For myself, historically, I feel I’ve navigated most dramatic shifts in my own life poorly, with resistance, with confusion. I’m extremely conflict-avoidant and non-confrontational, and “hypervigilant”. I need more time than the average person to process events and emotions – I feel a lot, beyond my own feelings. Unfortunately, this can lay a foundation of perceived agreeability and consent that has, on several occasions, led to the conflicts I hoped to avoid. Age and time have been extremely instructive. This being said, not all shifts in my life have been unpleasant. My husband and I have been married thirty-seven years, and we’ve been navigating Life’s challenges together in partnership. Since our son’s arrival, I’ve also found myself growing into changes with increasing ease. Wanting to be the best parent I can for him has helped provide urgency and guided my personal growth. I’m far more certain of myself and my inner compass now, and this has generally rippled out to positively affect the majority of my connections.
The world of your novel is animistic. What is your experience of sentience in the natural environment? Can you give an example?
My sense of animism is born of hope and respect – for our earth and all its non-human inhabitants, and for each other. Sentience is a slippery term and stirs up a lot of controversy. Clearly, it can be very convenient to deny sentience to anything that doesn’t resemble a narrow definition that directly benefits humanity. But there are risks to this – too often, denying other expressions of life sentience leads to viewing the world that surrounds and supports us as merely a resource to be exploited. This perspective has creep to it – when we put limitations on what is and what is not (who is and who is not) sentient, it has a tendency to creep into how we view each other… who is and isn’t worthy of respect and compassion based on criteria particular to ourselves and our experience. Animism is a way of viewing the world that aligns with my sense of integrity and empathy, and helps guide my personal relationship to the natural world. I may not know how a tree or river or bird experiences its life, but this lack of knowledge does not diminish their experience of it. As a child, I didn’t know the word “animism,” but this did not diminish what I felt in my heart to be a fundamental, personal truth.
Your novel invites readers to slow down and immerse themselves in the story’s pastoral setting. Can you describe how your relationship to nature and animals helped inform the book?
I live in a small, old, quiet, quaint town… that is utterly surrounded by chaos, bound on all sides by highways. The speed at which we’re expected to engage with current culture is much too fast for me, and I frequently feel “out of place.” (The poet John Koenig coined a word for this “monachopsis”.) Again, paradoxically, I also feel incredibly fortunate to be when and where I am. There is a reservoir a few blocks away with a walking bridge that allows a snatch of serenity, and a small gem of a county park nearby that I can escape to when I need to be held and comforted in a green, wooded place. My husband and I planted a mini meadow in our postage-stamp-sized yard that is packed with wildflowers and calls all sorts of life to it – birds, rabbits, insects. I need this, and suspect we all do, for my health and wellbeing – time to slow down, observe, breathe deeply. All things we’re all advised to do that fall by the waysides as we contort ourselves to fit societal norms.
To paraphrase a well-known adage, “Nature is full of magical things patiently waiting for our wits to grow sharper.”
I believe this with all my heart, and through my book, I’d like us to collectively remember we ourselves are an expression of nature. I’d like us to change the way we view that connection, to make time for it in our lives. I know this can be challenging. We’re busy. We’re tired. We tend to think nature exists in remote, pristine places untouched by humanity that are beyond our access. But we can expand that restricted thinking. In Nature Obscura, Kelly Brenner illustrates that nature is not limited to far-flung places and national parks, but exists in urbanized settings as well (within the book’s context, Seattle). Nature cannot and will not be confined or exiled. It simply is. And we are part of it. With my book, I truly, desperately want readers to cultivate such moments and connection. We grow to love, protect, and steward what we form relationship to.
The pets in Grace’s life play important roles, including Murl the dog, Sylvie the cat, and Wolf the wolf. It’s evident that you had fun developing their personal voices. Can you speak to that process?
Grace’s companions are very clear and individual in my head – I hear them. Much of their manner of speaking, their inflections, and conversational patterns comes from observing the creatures I’ve shared my life with, as well as others’ pets. So Murl, Sylvie, Wolf, and Thrush suggested themselves to me. Some are generalized: Murl is the “every dog,” loyal and trusting, guileless, and aware that the world’s larger patterns are sometimes lost to him; Sylvie, being a cat, is a keen observer and natural philosopher, and cannot help but be somewhat superior; Thrush acts as a source of wider perspective and wisdom, and has the voice of a classic “silver screen” actor, coached in Mid-Atlantic speech. Others are very specific: I hear Rooster as the actor John Alexander’s portrayal of “Teddy Roosevelt Brewster” in the 1944 film Arsenic and Old Lace – all bluff, bluster, and posturing; and Wolf has the voice and speech patterns of Michael Dorn’s Worf from Star Trek Next Generation – grave, stern, guided by a strong personal code of ethics. Hearing the individual characters’ voices helped create and tailor their personalities and helped me to keep them individualized in my mind and writing.
Can you describe the underground steams that fill your writing well? Are they related to memory, inquiry, desire, something else? How do you access your well?
The underground streams that fill my writing well are twofold – altruistic and personal. I write to give something back. There are books that have moved me so tremendously, that experiencing them has felt like a precious, immersive, and unexpected gift – stories of such depth and beauty, they live inside me. This created a deep urge to give a similar gift to others – an unexpected gift of hope, from my heart to another’s.
Then, more personally, there’s my childhood self, who wanted desperately to be able to speak with animals and for them to understand that I was an exception – a human they didn’t need to fear. In a sense, A Small Tale of Uncommon Grace is a love letter to both those aspirations – the wish to release something beautiful into the world that might connect to another person at just the right time, and a gift to those earlier versions of myself (who remain very active within me!)
Grace experiences an unexpected personal transformation full of consequence, but she doesn’t waste time and energy bemoaning or denying her new reality – she steps forward to meet it. Uncommon Grace is my attempt to understand the concept of grace – not the mere physicality of the word, but the more mystical implications of acceptance. This is so much more challenging! How do I accept a world so fraught with what isn’t in my power to change? discern the limits of my personal power to effect change? release anxieties that no longer serve a useful purpose? What might grace and acceptance look like in my own life? My writing well gives me space to explore and untangle my own thoughts.
Traditionally wells were gathering places and points of connection between members of a community. What role have friendships, writing and/or reading groups played in your development as a writer?
My well has been fed and filled to brimming by the generosity of others. As an intuitive writer with no formal education in the field, I’m incredibly fortunate to share company with exceptionally gifted writers who really know their stuff – their feedback continues to be an education. They believed in me before I trusted myself; insisted (gently, but emphatically) that I had a place at the creator’s table (even when I argue with them and insist otherwise); and continue to critique and encourage along the way. Intellectually, I know external validation isn’t necessary, but emotionally, this continues to be essential to my growth as a writer and creative. Because of this network of supportive creatives, I’ve carved new patterns of thought and let old ones grow over, like trails through the woods, and learned to embrace what was and remains dear to my heart – fairy tales, folklore, fantasy.
Does your bucket ever leak? Your well run dry? How do you restart the flow?
Leak? And how! I suspect, sometimes, my bucket is magically transformed from something sturdy, to brambles or whiskers or fog! Then, all creative endeavors collapse in unison – writing, poetry, collage, paper crafting, photography. It’s a cycle that seems to have its own unpredictable seasons; yet, despite the overarching pattern, when I find myself amidst a creative slump, I worry that this time it will stick. Permanently. This feels like utter abandonment. As if I’ll never create again. I’ve learned that the best way to disrupt this pattern and re-establish creative flow, is to get out of the echo and weave of my own thoughts. Connect with beloved friends. Change my environment. Take a walk or go on a hike. Read. Watch an old film. The challenge here is the fact that, when I’m in a creative slump, this often feels impossible. I’m learning that sometimes, I need to feel empty for a while before I can start again, even if it’s uncomfortable.
What are some of your favorite magical books?
I could mention dozens, but here are a few of my favorites: Thomas the Rhymer by Ellen Kushner, The Last Unicorn by Peter S, Beagle, Courting the Wild Twin by Martin Shaw and The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho.
What would you like readers to know about your book that might not be obvious from the jacket copy?
My wish for Uncommon Grace is that potential readers will allow space in their lives for something gentle and hopeful. I think of my book as a literary fairy tale. Its main themes are communication, community, and connection. It nests comfortably in the YA and Cozy Fantasy genres, although I initially vehemently resisted these categories. After all, Lewis Carroll and Beatrix Potter weren’t pigeon-holed, why must I be? (I can be… idealistically stubborn.) Eventually, wiser heads prevailed.
As adults, we’ve had much of our sense of curiosity and whimsy methodically plucked from us. This loss echoes our individual and collective sense of disconnection. While there’s a lot of really great, extremely relevant dystopian fiction available, I want to offer an alternative. Mythology, fairy tales, and science fiction provide a fictionalized backdrop that allows for the creative presentation of truths that might otherwise be dismissed out of hand. If we’re to expand our hearts, it’s imperative that we make room for optimism and curiosity. This is fertile ground from which good stuff grows, and my hope is that “Grace” will help leave the door open for this possibility.
What are you currently drawing up from your well? What can readers expect from you next?
Currently, I’m editing another book also set in the Bright Wood, the world of Uncommon Grace – this one, A Small Tale of Hard Feelings. Here, through my main character, Coel, I’m exploring our often-confusing relationship to emotions – our own, others’, where emotions begin and end and overlap. Like Grace, Coel has a specific – though more synesthetic – talent; unlike her, he resists and resents it. Editing this book has momentarily derailed progress on the first draft of a third book – again, also set in the Bright Wood. My writing process is very slow and methodical, but I’ll eventually pick up those threads again when I complete my current project… which will allow me to begin another… about a curse… I have lots of ideas for small, extraordinary “gifts” to bestow on otherwise ordinary individuals!
Attend Carrie’s virtual book launch Friday, September 19, 2025, 7:00pm via Zoom: https://us06web.zoom.us/j/84707033106. Attend her live event at the Boonton Coffee House Saturday, Octboer 11, 2025 at 7pm. Learn more about her work at CarrieBirde.com. Follow her on Instagram.
FORTHCOMING INTERVIEWS: Martha Cooley, Andrew Holecek, Juan Pablo Mobili, Suzanne Mettler and Lynne Sharon Schwartz.
RECENT INTERVIEWS: Karen Dukess, Brooke Lea Foster, David Hicks, Holly Kennedy, Jill McCorkle, Laura Munson, Askold Melnyczuk, Paula Saunders and Samra Zafar.
Thank you for supporting Tess’s work in whatever way suits you:
Like, Share, Comment, Subscribe.
Explore my novels Dawnland and April & Oliver.
Follow my Meditation Podcast on Apple, Spotify or Insight Timer.
Congratulations to Carrie on the new book!
And thanks for giving THOMAS THE RHYMER some love.
Thank you so much for the brilliant opportunity to converse with you, and consider such deep, thoughtful, soul-searching questions -- the whole experience was wonderful :)