Grimoire Issue IV poetry contributor Lisa Marie Basile is a poet, essayist and editor living in NYC. She's the founding editor-in-chief of Luna Luna Magazine, an online magazine & community dedicated to poetry and writing, magical living, and ideas. She’s also the author of two nonfiction books exploring accessible ritual, healing, and writing—The Magical Writing Grimoire and Light Magic for Dark Times. She’s also the author of NYMPHOLEPSY (co-authored by Alyssa Morhardt-Goldstein), which is included in the Best American Experimental Writing 2020 anthology, as well as other poetry collections. Her essays and other work can be found in The New York Times, Catapult, Narratively, On Loan from the Cosmos, Sabat Magazine, and more. She earned a Masters's degree in Writing from The New School and studied literature and psychology as an undergraduate at Pace University. You can follow her at @lisamariebasile and @Ritual_Poetica.
We caught up with Lisa recently to celebrate the publication of her second nonfiction book, The Magical Writing Grimoire, which was published by Fair Winds Press in April 2020.
Some of the many things we loved about this book: The way ritual is writing practice is ritual, showing how the two have always been inseparable. How spells are capacious: they are affirmations, and questions asked of the universe, and societal critique, and more. The specific rituals for psychological interrogation and healing. The openness of the prompts—so many books about writing turn it into drudgery. Your book emphasizes possibility and creating space for magic to come in. What are your favorite bits, and why?
I loved writing about writing and dream rituals, poetry as spellcraft, bibliomancy, embracing the shadowy side of your sun sign, and tarot writing. But I think the rituals I love to write the most are the ones that focus on healing — letters to the dead, giving your shadows a name, writing to your younger self. I’m a Scorpio, it’s in my nature, haha!
This is your second nonfiction book. How was writing this different from your first nonfiction book, Light Magic for Dark Times (which we also loved)?
I feel like these books are siblings! Light Magic for Dark Times was meant to be a book of accessible rituals and practices for anyone to use in a myriad of situations — when feeling burned out, feeling gaslit, feeling creatively drained, experiencing grief. It has a writing chapter, too! The Magical Writing Grimoire is a bit more in-depth, and it focuses on not just moving through trauma or crisis, but finding presence, balance, and self (as well as healing) all through (also accessible) writing-based rituals. Rituals might include bibliomancy, automatic writing, or guided meditation journaling.
I loooooved writing both of these. I know they’re not for everyone — they’re not your standard witchcraft book, they’re super accessible, they’re heavy on shadow work, and they don’t follow one path or practice — but they’re made from my heart.
What are your feelings about other books at the intersection of writing craft, self-help, and spiritual practice, like Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way? We were grateful you avoided pitfalls like unconscious privilege and assigning binary gender to the inner self. Do you have favorite writing, self-help, or witchcraft books you love and return to? Any you’ve found to be actively harmful to your practice?
I have turned to a wide array of books and people over the years; some were perfect for the time. I used The Artist’s Way a while ago. It played a role in my life at that time, for sure, although there is some language that I take major issue with in the work. I love Women Who Run With The Wolves, Writing Down the Bones, and even books like The Art of Death: Writing The Final Story (Danticat) because it enables me to do a sort of shadow work through the craft of writing.
There’s a book called Poetry as Spiritual Practice: Reading, Writing, and Using Poetry in Your Daily Rituals, Aspirations, and Intentions. I also adore zines that embrace writing as magic, like one I picked up at HausWitch called Conjure: Zines As Ritual Magic by Nyxia Grey. There’s so much out there — and sites like Mooky Chick; Yes, Poetry; and Grimoire that offer magic, literature, spell-poems, and rituals — always inspire me too. Audio journeys like Joanna Devoe’s Shadow Love and some lunar self-care rituals from The Glam Witch.
I avoid any sort of self-help stuff that relies too much (for my taste) on gender, asks me to “raise my vibes” in order to escape poverty or avoid thinking about serious issues lest I give them power, or blames the victim/tells me that I am subconsciously asking for my pain or allowing it because I want to punish myself. Not my thing. There’s a lot of ideas out there — and sometimes I don’t even recognize the issues that work for me or don’t work for me right away. I am always learning.
You write about chronic positivity as something you’re actively resisting in this book, and we appreciated that. The inclusion of giving back in your spell-work and a section on manifestation work as community-building practice may already answer this question, but what are your best recommendations for avoiding chronic positivity?
Thank you! I think an issue with chronic positivity (“good vibes only!” or “everything will be work out”) is that it gaslights others and yourself; it can be avoidant and negligent. Sometimes things don’t work out and we need to sit with that and make a change. Anger, sorrow, jealousy — these are all feelings that can be used for energy and used as catalysts for change and personal transformation. It’s the big feelings that guide us. As a scorpio, I feel like the shadow self is where the change happens. Some of the wisest people in my life healed from tremendous traumas by actively digging into the reality of tough emotions and thoughts.
I like to tell myself to feel the negative feelings, and give them the space and gravitas they deserve. I also do some journaling to get the Source of the feelings. I let them just be. I try to be careful with my language and let others know that stuff just sucks sometimes rather than write off their feelings with a sweeping, “love and light” affirmation. All of that said, avoiding toxic positivity doesn’t mean sitting in negativity; it just means embracing the shadow.
What was it like working with your artist? How did you find someone who got you and what you were trying to do with this book?
Oh my gosh, Ada Keesler (@adagracee on IG) is so damn talented. Ada designed my first book, Light Magic for Dark Times. My publisher assigned Ada to work with me, and we worked with Ada again for the Grimoire. I envisioned all the illustrations and the vibe, then Ada took my vision and ran with it. So versatile and dynamic and she really captures the magic and softness I was going for. I got lucky because Ada is very talented and intuitive.
Your audience for The Magical Writing Grimoire, and for Luna Luna, contains both novices and advanced practitioners. How did you strike a balance between your own idiosyncratic practice of witch- and word-craft with more general advice? Do you have an ideal reader for this book?
Hmm, I don’t have an ideal reader, really; I think whoever finds their way to the book and appreciates its inclusion and adaptability would be my ideal reader, I suppose — because I want people to come away feeling like they can embrace (and create) something sacred in a way that feels accessible to them. Poets, dreamers, witches, word-witches.
I try to write books like I’m telling a good friend something but sprinkle in the literary and the things I’ve learned along the way. I always trust the audience (and am informed by them, too; I often do forms and questionnaires before projects like books to get a sense of what would speak to people — and then I keep that it mind when writing what feels right to me).
The references you cite in these pages are eclectic and wide-ranging, from Mary Karr to Octavia Butler to Edwidge Danticat to Anais Nin. Could you talk a bit about your influences as you were working on The Magical Writing Grimoire?
I have a shelf in my room where I keep all of my favorites. Things that I return to and read during certain seasons or in certain episodes of my life. Many of those voices made their way into my book. I essentially kept a long notebook of quotes and thoughts and passages from my favorite writers, musicians, activists, poets — and applied some of those to the book, too. I just wanted to offer some little gems here and there, to get the reader thinking, to add to the ideas and feelings.
Do you have a favorite or reoccurring dream or dream image you’d be willing to share, and why it clings to you?
I see the number 33 everywhere — in my dreams, in my waking life. The computer says it’s 3:33 when I look. I open my phone to see 33 likes on a post. It’s 33 after when the train comes. Everything, all the time. I was born on 11/3, so perhaps there’s a connection there, plus 33 is a holy number according to most numerologists. It feels really auspicious and beautiful and comforting. I like to think it’s just a reminder of divinity.
