PHOTO: Beth Hilgartner at home in Vermont, surrounded by her beloved books, instruments, and the quiet hum of imagination.
A Story Of Essence Identity And Imaginative Worlds
Beth Hilgartner discusses her return to writing with The Ivory Mask , exploring identity, creativity, and dual realities shaped by spiritual and political themes in a richly imagined fantasy setting.
Beth Hilgartner’s life has always been steeped in stories—told, sung, and lived. From her early years in Rochester, New York, to her current home in Vermont, where she is surrounded by cats, clocks, and gardens, her creative spirit has never faltered. What began as a childhood discovery—that books are written by people, and perhaps she could be one of them—evolved into a lifelong pursuit of narrative and expression, branching into music, faith, and public service.
Her writing, much like her varied vocations, is layered and resonant. A retired Episcopal priest and classically trained musician, Hilgartner brings to her fiction a contemplative depth and a nuanced understanding of the human condition. Her characters often navigate worlds rich in both spiritual texture and political complexity, where the presence of gods is real, and the moral terrain is rarely simple. In The Ivory Mask, she returns with a story that is as imaginative as it is introspective—a tale where essence transcends form and identity unfolds across worlds.
What distinguishes Hilgartner’s work is not just her capacity to imagine intricate worlds, but her refusal to be constrained by formula. Whether writing fantasy, speculative fiction, or something delightfully eccentric—like cats ruling cyberspace—she follows the story that insists on being told. Her creative process is intuitive, character-led, and deeply personal. For Hilgartner, writing is not just an art but a conversation with her own spirit—and one she invites us all to overhear.
In an era where publishing often demands constant visibility and market-savvy branding, Hilgartner offers a refreshing alternative: a writing life rooted not in commercial ambition, but in authentic expression. And with The Ivory Mask, she proves again that some voices, no matter how long their silence, return when the world most needs to listen.
What drew you back to writing after your prolonged absence, and why was The Ivory Mask the story you chose to tell now?
I began work on The Ivory Mask about 16 years ago and wrote much of the first draft then. Events conspired to push writing to the back burner; periodically, through the years, I would come back to the project, but Real Life kept intervening. After I retired, when I had time again, the characters and story were still compelling. I used the book to explore what inhibits people from becoming eminent and used the mechanism of switching the animating essences of my two main characters. It turned out that (for various reasons) each one of them was more able to reach their full potential in the other’s world.
How do your experiences as an Episcopal priest and a musician influence the worlds and characters you create in your novels?
I think the largest ways those elements exert influence is that my characters tend to have interior lives that involve a spiritual sense (sometimes quite overt; sometimes more subtle) and often some form of creative expression. I like creative people, and my characters reflect that bias. As well, in the fantasy novels gods are often real, present and active; I am cognizant of ways political and faith leaders manipulate religion in attempts to influence or control the population, and that awareness finds its way into my writing, especially since I am active in politics.
You’ve said you rarely use outlines and often don’t know where a book is going when you begin—how do you manage plot consistency and character development with such a fluid process?
The most important part of my process occurs when characters show up in my head and begin to insist I tell their story. When things are going well in a book, I write the first draft fast. It’s my way of getting the story down, often in a kind of shorthand. The next set of rewrites involves careful consideration of character development, making sure the plot and timing follow logically, and balancing how much of the backstory should be included for the reader. Subsequent rewrites involve polishing the language, making sure each character’s speech patterns are consistent, and fixing any other issues that arise. Outside editing eyes on my “final” version catch things that don’t work for readers.
In The Ivory Mask, Thea and Thehath wake up in each other’s worlds—what inspired this dual-reality concept, and what challenges did it pose in the writing?
The ‘chain of creation’ concept (linked worlds, alternate universes) is not original to my work; but since I wanted to explore how external circumstances are limiting or freeing to Thea and Thehath, putting them in very different settings seemed obvious. Having only their essences switch (and not their physical selves) served to change their circumstances utterly. The challenges were keeping track of who knew what, when (and where); keeping the voices consistent with whichever inhabiting essence was speaking while not making them so distinct that readers would have a hard time believing other characters didn’t notice; and matching the timelines across worlds. There were grammatical issues, too: with the gender switches, did I (as the omniscient narrator) refer to Thea-in-Thehath as ‘she’ or ‘he?’ (When I began the book, the option of using ‘they’ was still a grammatical outlier, and by the time I picked the story up again, I had already reached a workable compromise.)
Your stories often include rich political and court intrigue. What do you find compelling about weaving these elements into your fantasy settings?
I have always used my writing to wrestle with personally compelling issues and questions. For example, the YA pair of novels, Colors in the Dreamweaver’s Loom and The Feast of the Trickster had their genesis in my struggles with my calling to the priesthood. I joke about being a ‘politics junkie,’ but I’ve been an activist since the war in Vietnam. I also find the complexity of human interactions and the processes by which decisions are made fascinating, so intrigue and politics are a natural fit.
You’ve created everything from alternate realities to feline internet entrepreneurs—how do you approach such different tones and audiences in your work?
I have been privileged to write whatever I need to. Early on I chose not to support myself with my books, since writing is so deeply tied to my personal inner life. The question: “Will this book make enough money to justify the time?” entirely derailed my psychological/creative process. Today, with the shifts in the traditional publishing industry and the meteoric rise of independent publishing, it seems that anyone who wishes to support themselves with their novels must also excel at marketing, self-promotion, and engaging with readers. They also need consistently to choose projects that are marketable, appealing to their current fans, and attractive to new readers. I think emerging authors need to decide if they are writing for themselves or for a market, and plan accordingly. If writing for oneself, then I would advise pursuing an (alternative) career that provides enough flexibility for non-career-centered creative endeavours. If writing for a market, then also take the time to learn not only the craft of writing, but the skills for effective marketing and self-promotion.
