Krista Madsen: Returning to the World of Magical Girlhood

Did you think of yourself as a creative kid? What does creativity look like for you these days?

I was a very creative kid but mostly in forms only known to myself–that is after the age I call the Death of Magical Girlhood, when suddenly our gender drops off into the sad realm of the self-conscious and we no longer want to appear smart in our glasses or have any hair on our legs or stand out too much for being ourselves in all our former awkward glory. Before this, I was a creator of mini-books which I would also illustrate; an architect of doll houses on my dad’s drafting table with all the cool rulers and stencil and gridded paper; chef of endless “meals” made out of sand and nuts in my backyard sandbox; singer of songs at the top of my lungs which carried for miles down the brook behind my house (for the sun WILL come out tomorrow!); crafter of many homemade gifts out of whatever I found lying around (which was a lot–my parents were hoarders). The hoarding was a gift and a curse; there came shame in my home along with that self-consciousness of a certain age when I started comparing families and deciding everyone else must be normal. A gift because there were the materials of endless potential. And–what I didn’t know at the time–all the mental material and memories to turn me into a writer of stories. 

Ultimately I grew into a writer who carried and transformed these stories into fiction. But fiction of course was easier and more possible when I had the freedom of no children to confine my output. I became a writer I think because I was an introvert, though that wasn’t a known term to me at the time. And then the more social my life would become, or (as it felt) the more crowded, the harder that challenge was to successfully shut out this world in order to retreat to the writing. 

I’ve found jobs that encourage writing and have a number of side gigs (including my Home|body newsletter) but I’ve found it hard to be the former fiction writer, for reasons below.

My creativity on other fronts is similar to what it’s been ever since childhood and it’s also kind of stayed at that level of playful amateurism retrieved from the girlhood magic era in exciting ways that fuel me. I make things, not very well, and tinker without great successes but it’s all for fun. My creativity really flourishes in projects and even the spreadsheets I use to organize them–the older I get, the more I find organization necessary. I love renovating my home and trying to tame the wild in my little slice of land in upstate NY. My favorite recent creations are a pipe tree made from the refuse from ripping out the gas lines in my home and going full-electric. And the shed I decorated as a sort of reliquary for all the odd, interesting bits I gathered from the ruin of a 26-room boarding house I demoed on my rural property. (See photos of both). 

How did motherhood change your creative practice? 

No one tells you how motherhood hijacks your brain, body and being and sort of puts it all in a blender, creating a metamorphosis slurry that will never again resemble what you used to be. You might emerge better–someday–but certainly not the same. I found the changes challenging as a creative person and not what I expected, since I always thought I’d be that rocking artsy mom who did all the mom things in a funky, free way with her artfully asymmetrically-haircut kids. Instead, I couldn’t read, couldn’t write–though I’d read to them of course. I couldn’t create my own stuff, but I did plenty with them. Gone is the ego that propels the artist. If I were going to hide in a cave to write it would now have to change the world for the better. And where’s the childcare in the cave please? I wish I could have just relished that time more and given myself some grace, but instead I felt resentment and pressure–pressure to pay a mortgage I didn’t use to have, to have “real” jobs I didn’t used to keep when I could get by on a cobbled together freelance kind of life in NYC, to marry (and stay married) for the sake of the insurance. Now with babies I was in the suburbs instead of the city, isolated in a new life with these new lives and without support of any nearby family or network. I became a reporter to contribute my share to paying the bills, which was super-stressful with one and then two little kids on me like parasites. Though I didn’t love attending the Town Hall meetings, I did love creating a “Mom Spelled Backwards” column and reviewing “Movies Made Here.” Before I became the editor of the local Patch.com sites, there was freedom in just being a contributor and writing what I felt like. (Turns out I’m better as a free writer, not as a hack, of course). The reporting led to many other fulfilling gigs that led to bigger, better gigs and always with the perks of free family tickets to something spectacular and greater access to experiencing these beautiful Hudson Rivertowns I live in. 

Still novels couldn’t come, or even short stories, since they required sooo much time and space (and financial security to fund it) that I no longer had. Now it would be about the hustle, and getting by, getting through the day, day by day, and that remains to until now, although—

I feel myself, at the age of 50, getting ever so much closer to where I’m supposed to be. These last few years, when my daughters are tween/teens and I’m divorced so I now have actual time off from parenting (not that I recommend divorce for that, but shared custody really has helped!), rather than time where I’m sort of helping my partner help me have time off. My creativity compels me increasingly; I feel more alive than ever.

How does art enrich your life? How does being a mother enrich your art?

Art is everything. I feel like I’m losing track of myself and the recesses of my brain until I start reading books, which I’ve come back to in recent years thanks in part to the pandemic and getting a space that is off-grid where the internet isn’t even an option. I sleep better there, do yardwork, and read my head off. Reading starts tugging at my writing brain, and suddenly I want to jot stuff down and am having Ideas. I get a lot from happening upon public art, going to galleries, being in the cathedral of nature, supporting friends doing something interesting. I like to be crafty and my kids and I enjoy that so much we’ve dedicated a room in our house we call the craft room where the cards, jewelry, and 3D printer magic happens.

Motherhood has led me into my community in a deeper way since I’ve followed the lead of my kids and connected to other parents in playgrounds, Girl Scout Troops, etc. I became more invested in the village I live in through being a parent (i.e. end of selfishness, beginning of volunteering!) and started participating in public projects, and then found myself organizing them and becoming a leader. It was the work with my kids, being a Girl Scout leader specifically, that gave me confidence to apply more leadership into my own professional life and more confidence into my creative pursuits, and it’s grown from there into further productivity and successes.

What helps you make time and space for being creative? How do you avoid burn out?

Coffee, but only one cup! It helps that I’m a naturally anxious person and not a great sleeper. I spring out of bed at the crack of dawn fully alert and ready to go. So one cup of coffee and I can get a lot done before the kids even wake up. I also have a job that I squeeze some other things into without anyone noticing–don’t tell–but in fact it makes me a better, more efficient worker at the humdrum day job to also be able to dabble in some other creative things without having to feel smushed and confined. To not burn out, I jog a little every other morning, I escape to my land upstate and do manual labor. Moving is absolutely essential to my mental health, more than ever when all the paid work I have requires sitting at a computer. 

How would you like the world to see artists and mothers? 

Oh there’s so much work to be done to improve the lives of artists and mothers. Make them visible, and VALUED. Art isn’t free to produce and should be priced accordingly, and motherhood should be the most prized role of them all and should be honored and protected and MADE EASIER however possible. We need so much more structure in place to make a working mother’s existence better, for instance. Childcare at work, real healthcare, paid maternity leave, flexible hours, work-from-home options. A more communal level of support where mothers come together helping mothers. If only we really lived in villages where people could collectively raise their kids together rather than making up the whole thing in our isolated pods. 

What mothers inspire you? Who should I interview next?

Every mother inspires me–they all seem to be doing a fine job despite so many obstacles. We make it look effortless, not that we should. I gravitate most to the moms who are raw and show their scars, so they feel relatable to me but also inspire with their honesty and grit. My friend Pia Salk in recent years has adopted her foster child, and spent her life before that very dedicated to rescuing animals. She is a clinical psychologist (with the famed last name from her uncle Jonas Salk, who invented the polio vaccine) who conducts private practice in her home. Also in her home is a basement room dedicated to crafts, and another off her patio that serves as a shop where she sometimes hosts seasonal parties to sell her jewelry and various homemade goods. She really seems to be able to make anything and has all the right tools. I hung out with her at the storefront she had for a few years called Found in Irvington NY. She had all the materials of crafting, all fun found goods ready for repurposing, there organized in clear glass jars on every wall and surface. She inspired me to keep making art out of everything, and to also stay almost obsessively organized in this inspired hoarding. Pia’s empathy is her greatest attribute. She will of course make a great mom long term, as she is already.

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Krista Madsen received her BA in English from Yale University and her MFA in fiction from The New School, with her first two novels (Degas Must Have Loved a Dancer, Four Corners) in contract with Livingston Press by graduation. For five years, she owned and operated Stain Arts Lounge in Brooklyn, inspiration for the novel she's been working on ever since. She has been a journalist for the Hudson Independent and Patch.com, writing instructor at NYU and Gotham, project manager at Historic Hudson Valley, and managing director of the Hudson Valley Writers Center. She lives in Sleepy Hollow, NY and now works in government administration. She has two daughters, ages 15 and 12.

In addition to her novels, her short fiction and essays have been printed in The Citizen, 11211, Lit, Small Spiral Notebook, Urban Folk, Driftwood, and the River Styx; anthologized in Hunger and Thirst and My Little Red Book; and found online on Defenestrationism, Sunday Salon Magazine, All Things Girl, Reading Divas, Front Street Review, Emerging Writers Forum, Bite Magazine, Suitcase, and MiPOesias. She wrote the introduction about Washington Irving's life and legend for the 2017 RacePoint Publishing flexibound edition of Irving's The Sketch Book called The Legend of Sleepy Hollow and Other Stories. She writes the weekly newsletter "Home|body" found at sleepyhollowink.substack.com. 

Learn more at her website, sleepyhollowink.com. 

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Hi! I’m Heidi. Writer. Editor. Mother. I’m interviewing 100 creative mothers, because I believe the more we see other mothers making beauty and meaning in small moments, the more we will be inspired to make our own kind of art, whatever that may look like during this intense season of life. Support the project by sharing with a friend.