In our online series ‘the art of writing,’ we sit down with gifted Irish authors to celebrate the craft of writing in all its forms.
Anne Griffin is an award-winning novelist and short-story writer from Dublin. She has penned three books: When All Is Said, Listening Still and The Island of Longing. Her debut novel, When All Is Said, created a notable stir in the Irish literary scene, earning her the Newcomer of the Year award at the 2019 Irish Book Awards. In conversation with us about how she began writing at the age of 44, Anne discusses working on her next novel and shares her writing process along with the ups and downs that accompany a writer’s life.
Tell us about your writing.
I am the author of three novels: When All Is Said, Listening Still and The Island of Longing. All are set in Ireland, occupying the middle space between literary fiction and commercial storytelling. My settings tend to be rural, even though I grew up in Dublin. My heart and mind, I think, have always belonged to the land, the trees, and the rain. My work has been translated into twenty-three languages.
Have you always known you wanted to write?
Reading, yes; writing, not immediately. I’m a late bloomer, starting to write at 44. It was a surprise and a joy, and it led me to pursue an MA in Creative Writing at UCD. When All Is Said, my first novel, was subsequently bought at auction and won an Irish Book Award. Honestly, I never quite knew what I wanted to be; becoming a writer is a wonderful gift, and I appreciate that life has offered me different avenues. I’ve worked as an accountant, a community development worker, a bookseller, and now a writer. These roles stay with me in my head and heart, alongside being a mother, a reader, a grower of fruit and vegetables, and a TV addict.
Talk us through your writing process
When I set out to write a new novel, I often begin with a sentence, a word, a phrase, or a single idea that pops into my head unexpectedly, and I follow it from there. It’s fascinating to see where it leads. For When All Is Said, I already had the ending in mind—a successful farmer facing a difficult decision—and I started from that point. For Listening Still, my aim was to explore life in an undertaker’s, and the characters grew as I wrote. For The Island of Longing, it was a particular fascination that drove me—the missing people of Ireland—and a fondness for Cape Clear Island off Cork’s coast, though I named it differently for the book’s setting. Once the thread is clear, I’m happy to let the story unfold in its own winding way. Naturally, this means a lot of final-stage restructuring, but I’m fine with that.
How long I write in a stretch depends on how much energy I have left. If I’m tired, I might stop after an hour and re-read what I’ve done, perhaps pondering the next scene. It’s a long, sustaining process. The current first draft of my present project has been underway for a year, with only a hint of an ending in sight. It will take many more months before it feels ready to share with a trusted reader who can point out what isn’t working, and then I’ll move on to draft two. When it will reach my editor is anyone’s guess. Typically, I write in the mornings, when I feel most alert and energized.
Describe your writing space.
It can be anywhere, really. I don’t have a fixed workspace. Wherever I am will do. A proper desk helps when I can manage one, but more often than not I sit on my bed and type away. An injury to my shoulder a few years back put that habit on hold for a while, so I switched to using a chair and table. I do own a desk if needed, but I work with the laptop, my notebook (one notebook per book), headphones (not to listen to music—the noise dulls the sharp edges of distractions around me), and I can write pretty much anywhere. At this moment, I’m seated on my couch as I write this.
What is a piece of writing you wish you wrote and why?
It’s less about a single piece and more about a healthy envy of some favourite writers. Anne Tyler, Mary Lawson, and Richard Russo have long been go-to authors for me. A newer writer who has captivated me is Mary Beth Keane. Her forthcoming Whale Harbour is slated for January 2027 and already feels like a keeper. The same goes for Callan Wink’s Beartooth, released in 2025. These writers render life with exquisite precision, capturing what it means to be fallibly human, and they move me deeply. It doesn’t always require a grand plot, though a well-crafted arc is essential.
Anne Tyler’s Digging to America, Mary Lawson’s Crow Lake, and Maggie O’Farrell’s Instructions for a Heatwave simply spell out life for me, and I admire their brilliance at capturing what goes on in our heads and hearts. They add touches of humor too, which I cherish. I don’t insist on spectacular sentences, though when they appear, they are hard to beat. A humane voice on the page—simple yet profound—satisfies me every time.
What are your thoughts on AI and writers using it to assist their own writing?
Transparency is my foremost principle. If a book, play, or screenplay is created with AI involvement, then that involvement should be acknowledged—let the reader know, with no pretense. This hands readers the power to choose what they want to read. Likewise, if a writer uses AI to enhance large portions of their text, that usage should be disclosed. However, if I use AI merely to check spelling or to find a synonym, as I have done with online resources and dictionaries for years, that’s acceptable. Knowledge is power, so let’s be honest with readers about any tools used and stop pretending it’s all solely my own talent.
Finally, what tips do you have for aspiring writers?
Read voraciously, and read widely. Learn from both the masters and the less celebrated writers. Writing is extraordinary but also can be heartbreakingly difficult. I’ve just come through a period of that. So ride the wave when it’s there, when those words flow onto the page and you feel a surge of genius, you might be onto something. When the lows come—which can cluster into days, weeks, or even years—you must still write. Write your way out of it. Write as often as you can, ideally every day (even just fifteen minutes) if your day-to-day life allows. Put everything down on the page; half of it might be terrible and be discarded, but there’s another half waiting to replace it, and some of that will be the good stuff.
Find people you trust to read your work—other writers rather than a best friend or partner (unless, of course, they happen to be Anne Enright). You want honesty: someone who will tell you when something you’ve written works and when it doesn’t. You’ll find such readers in creative-writing courses at the Irish Writers’ Centre, at your local library or through a writers’ group. You might even aim for a college course at ATU Sligo, University of Limerick, UCD, TCD, DCU, or NUI Maynooth, among others offering excellent programmes with outstanding teachers. Most of all, enjoy the process, even when it’s tough. Do it. Love it, even if you sometimes hate it, but keep at it anyway.
Read next: The art of writing: Patrick Freyne shares how he makes time for writing amidst a busy life.
