“Would You Rather” takes the reader through a life-threatening situation. When did you realize you had to write this story?
To be completely honest, this is a story I have tried to avoid writing. It stemmed from a prompt in a grief-writing course that asked me to recall “times you thought you were going to die, one emotionally and one physically.” The life-threatening event came to mind immediately. I could not let it go. Readers felt I was skirting around the hospital narrative and encouraged me to go deeper. At first, I resisted, and then, because I’m stubborn, tried to run straight into the fear.
You open by asking readers if they would prefer losing a best friend or a life, and until the very end, repeat that question. You use repetition as a poetic device. Do you enjoy poetry?
I do! My dad was a burly man who worked in the trades, was obsessed with hockey, and was always fixing and building something in the backyard. He’d never admit to his stash of poetry books, underlined and with notes tucked between pages. He was the first person to introduce me to poetry. He wasn’t religious, but poetry and music were his form of spirituality, and they’ve become mine as well.
What were the circumstances surrounding the birth of your child?
Her birth was traumatic. During the repair of severe muscle and tissue damage, a medical error led to a serious infection. Despite showing symptoms before discharge, my concerns were repeatedly dismissed. “Would You Rather” picks up when my family urged me to seek further medical care, but after everything I’d endured, I still resisted.
“The friend” remains nameless and without any physical description as do doctors, nurses, your baby, mother, and yourself, the narrator. In doing so, what were you seeking to achieve?
I strongly believe that much of the world’s division stems from the narratives we create about others as a way to shield ourselves from discomfort and deep emotion. I hoped omitting names and physical descriptions would leave as much room as possible for the reader to step into my experience, to sit with the discomfort, but in a safe container.
At the end, you acknowledge that there was never a real choice since you lost your friend and the life you dreamed about. Choice is often framed as an ethical decision, or one that determines the path of our lives. Do you believe there are no either/or choices?
Despite my attempts to frame it as either/or, I believe reality is much grayer than we’d like to admit. In this case, there was never truly a choice between one or the other, but we tell ourselves this all the time. If I pick option A, if I’m a good person, if I say and do all the right things, then everything will work out. But that’s a false choice. Reality is messy. We try to make sense of negative outcomes by tracing them back to the decisions we made, carrying guilt and shame as if we had control. But life is so much more complicated.
Passionate, all-consuming love is a destructive force here. You describe a strained marriage, and a career, “you can never quite fully return to.” What did the narrator return to?
I think perhaps the hardest part, the most difficult thing to reconcile, is that passionate, all-consuming love, though beautiful, can also become profoundly destructive. The narrator didn’t so much return as she found herself forced onto an unexpected and unwanted path. She partially returned to her healthcare career, but it was permanently shadowed by trauma; it’s difficult to heal when trauma occurs within the system where you work. The narrator had envisioned a life defined by adventure, growth, and love. Instead, she became trapped by years of invasive medical procedures and chronic pain, placing immense stress on herself, her partner, and her child. Life became less about adventure and more about survival. Thankfully, through the narrator’s resilience, her story isn’t finished.
Do you tend toward structured and economical writing? What are you working on now?
I tend to prefer to write in a structured and economical way, as it feels safe. However, in “Would You Rather” I felt like I was losing control, and it was deeply uncomfortable.
At the moment, my main project is a memoir. My father died during my adolescence, and it was something I tried to minimize and suppress. It’s only in the last few years I’ve come to realize how his death shaped me in ways I wasn’t ready to see and how there are changes I need to make if I truly want to live. The memoir is allowing me to see myself and my past through a new lens rather than the warped fun house mirror I looked through before.
I also co-write Curiosity Kitten(s) on Substack with a dear friend, where we openly explore our writing-related self-doubt in hopes of making others feel less alone.
What is your creative process? Are you able to write every day? Do you have a journal, a regular time to write, etc.?
Over time, my creative process has shifted to start with intuition. When working on the memoir or an essay, I either set a timer for five minutes and wait to see what images, scenes, or words bubble up, or I freewrite, asking the project: Where do you want to go today, and how can I help you?
I do have a journal. Actually, I have piles of journals. These days, I have four in rotation: a process journal, a reading journal, a quote journal, and my daily journal.
I typically write something every day, though it’s not always toward a specific project. More than anything, community and accountability have become critical for being brave, trying new things, and allowing myself to make mistakes during the process.
Are there other writers or artists who inspire your work?
I’m a voracious reader, so this list could get long. But if I had to choose, I’d say reading Melissa Febos sparked something in me. After finishing Girlhood, I could no longer turn away from writing. Laraine Herring has also been a significant influence.
Music is another huge source of inspiration. I’m in awe of some of the songwriters out there. And beyond that, I’m deeply inspired by the incredible people in the writing communities I’m part of.
