Amanda Barrett and I met as graduate writing students at Hopkins. We shared our experiences in writing about death and grief over a Zoom call in early November, 2021. Below’s an excerpt from that conversation.

Raquel: When people ask me what I’m writing about and I tell them, the next question is whether I find writing therapeutic, I imagine you get that too. How do you respond?

Amanda: I would say if you need therapy, go to therapy for therapy and don't try to write your therapy. I mean, you don't want to read someone's therapy session. I do feel like what was therapeutic about it, if that's the right word, is that for me, letting go of things is really hard. And so to turn in the thesis and let go of this phase of things is a relief. And so to that extent, it's a little bit like grief, right? 

Raquel: You said something about letting this phase go. What exactly are you referring to?

Amanda: Well, to have a substantial chunk of writing than letting other people read and saying, here's my work. Here's what I've done. I always have a problem with that because I'm kind of a nutty perfectionist, and that makes me shut down and not get things done. See, this is therapy. This is the therapy part. But here's one thing I do want to say. I don't know if you've heard this expression when they say to people "write like your family is dead." So write like your parents are dead because the implication is that you feel like you have to please them and just forget about that.

But here's my take on this. My parents are dead. Everybody's dead, and they're still in my head. They're still talking back. They're still saying, don't do this. They're still saying all the things they said in real life or in the things I imagined. You have to get to that place on your own. 

Anyway, do you feel like it was therapeutic? 

Raquel: If there’s something that’s therapeutic it’s the act of writing. I'm so drawn to the page, the hours I spend looking for the right words, the right sentences, the right structure are so captivating in terms of mind and soul that in some way they numb the pain, because I am not in my grief. I am in the craft of writing. 

Yes, that very first draft is painful, especially when I’m reviewing medical records or photo albums. That is painful. But by the time I'm revising for the third or fourth time, it's all about the craft. You know, writing has been one of the few things that has grounded me in a world without Gabi--writing and walking and reading. So as I finish my thesis, I’m already asking myself what next. Finishing my memoir, of course, but I need to envision what I’ll write about after that. 

Amanda: Well, that was a really beautiful answer that you just said about the craft and the returning to the documents. I did that a lot, too, because these tangible things and they really have a lot of force. You look at something again and your stomach drops. But then, as you say, there's also the part where at least it gives me something really specific to write about. It's an object to describe and to tease out. 

Raquel: What surprised you the most in terms of what you learned in this process?

Amanda I think it was as horrible as I expected it to be. [Laughs.] What's surprising to me is that I got it done. What about you?

Raquel: Maybe sensing that readers enjoyed my writing and my story. Initially I wrote for myself. Then I realized, in a workshop, that others appreciated my writing and seemed genuinely interested in my story, despite its darkness. And that was inspiring, that validation, especially when they’d say tell us more, slow down. 

Amanda: When people read your work, what do you think they will learn or take away? 

Raquel: It's definitely not a how-to story about how to live with grief. I want them to walk away with Gabi’s spark and glitter. She put up with some real hardships, and she was just a kid, you know, but goodness, she lived. How well she lived.