Gayle Letherby

1. Please tell us a bit about yourself and your work.
Having worked as a nursery nurse prior to the miscarriage (in the early 1980s) of my, to my knowledge, one and only pregnancy, one and only baby, I gave up my job and listlessly, sometimes desperately, wandered through my own life feeling that I had no purpose and no future. Then, when looking for something to fill some time, I discovered Sociology at my local FE college where I studied it at A Level. This led to an undergraduate degree, a PhD and 30+ years of teaching, researching, writing and mentoring. The discipline (and especially its political potential) and the hard work of studying it helped me find myself again and continues to enrich my life. Since my graduation in 1990 the significance of mother or not has always been part of my academic labour and I have undertaken research and written much on the experience of those who do and those who do not mother (and father) and the implications and impact of this. My PhD was specifically concerned with the identity and experience of infertility and involuntary childlessness (which are of course not the same thing although they often interconnect). I interviewed and corresponded with more than 80 individuals, mostly women but some men too, and when writing up my thesis included some of my own experience in the text. Alongside other academic work I have also conducted a number of research projects on reproductive loss and on pregnancy and early motherhood (parenthood).

About 15 years ago I began to also write fiction and memoir, for both academic and lay audiences. My personal experience and my research interests are often the stimulus for the fiction I write and my significant others regularly appear in my memoir pieces. This includes my baby, the child who died months before her or his expected birth date, and also my mother, Dorothy, and father, Ron, and my husband John (all deceased). I find this writing both cathartic and energising and from the responses I have had I know that others connect with it and find it emotionally engaging.

2. Has writing always been a focus for you or was it a Plan B?
If my baby had lived my academic career would likely not have happened. Ironically, I think I know much more about the variety and complex experience of (non)motherhood/ing than I ever would have if things had turned out as I first hoped and planned. Across my career I have always worked auto/biographically and much of my own story has been told across my academic work, as well as in more ‘personal’ writings. I feel privileged to have the time and other resources to spend so much time on issues and concerns that, like me, many others believe to be both misunderstood and misrepresented. Through my work I have also developed very many positive and caring relationships (often with younger people) that bring me much joy. So it’s fair to say that my writing has evolved from my NoMo status and it, and the relationships that surround it, have added much to my life.

3. How do you explore ideas or find inspiration for your work?
Research and autobiographical accounts highlight that women (and men) who are unable to have children often feel pitied by others whereas those who decide not to become parents are often stereotyped as selfish. I have argued for many, many years that such labelling is simplistic and offensive for the reality of ‘living without children’ (which is problematic too as many of us who are ‘childless/free’ have personal and professional relationships with children) just like life as mother or father, is always more complicated in reality. With reference to my own experience I acknowledge my ambivalence. I am ambivalent about my status as non- (or not quite) mother – always feeling the loss, but grateful for, and happy with, the many opportunities and freedoms I have had and continue to have. I know that other childless not by choice individuals will feel differently to me, and that other people’s ambivalences will be different to mine. I know too that many mothers (and fathers) feel (at least some of the time) ambivalent about their maternal/paternal status and experience. In all my work, in all my writing, drawing on my own story and the stories of others, my aim is to challenge inaccurate stereotypes, to highlight differences, and to increase understanding.
 

4. What does the process of writing involve for you?
It is always different. If I’m undertaking a research or scholarly writing project I’m probably working to a timetable and usually juggling a number of jobs, so I’m often working right up to the deadline. With reference to fiction and memoir, I have an ever increasing list of ideas and writing plans which I never get to the end of, not least because something will pop into my head unexpectedly and I’ll feel the need to write that up immediately. I enjoy the writing always but also at times feel a little overwhelmed by all that I feel I want to complete. I’m a morning person and I think that some of my best work is done before breakfast but then again if the urge takes me at 9pm I go with it. Some pieces are easier than others, written in one short blast with little need for an edit; others take months, years even, before they feel right; and there are many abandoned projects that maybe I’ll return to someday, but then again maybe not.

5. And what does writing then also give you in return?
Writing gives me an enormous sense of achievement. Writing is emotionally challenging and enriching, it is hard work, it brings me joy. I don’t share all of my writing but when I do I’m so grateful when others respond by telling me what it means to them; whether their experience and thoughts are similar or different; whether they agree or disagree with my analysis and opinions. It doesn’t feel dramatic to say that Sociology (and the work that has followed) saved my life, in that it gave, and continues to give, me a sense of purpose. Without my work, and the writing is a hugely significant part of this, I know that I would feel less than whole as a person.

6. Has seeing your work in print changed how you view yourself, and also how you view your NoMo status?
Yes absolutely. The writing itself is meaningful to me, as I’ve highlighted above, and so too are the relationships I’ve made with like-minded others through my writing.

7. Tell us about the wider reception that you’ve had to sharing your story - has it changed how others have viewed you and your identity as a non-parent?
When I began my doctoral research in 1990 there were fewer people researching and writing about childlessness than there are now. Researching and writing auto/biographically (an approach which acknowledges always the relationship between self and other) was also less common. I received a huge amount of support throughout my study, and have ever since, and I am humbled by the generous way that colleagues have engaged with my work. Outside of the academy although there are times when I still feel excluded and marginalised because of my non-parent status I am warmed too by the encouragement from friends and family for my work and my writing.
 

8. How do you feel about the current representation of childless and/or childfree people in literature?
Although in some ways there have been improvements in the ways in which the complex, messy, multi-layered experiences of all people’s are portrayed in literature (and in other mediums) there remains oversimplified caricatures. This is true I think of women who do not mother (biologically related) children. The 2015 novel The Girl on the Train and the 2016 BBC drama The Replacement were each, I think, guilty of this. In both outputs the women who do not mother biological children/do not have children of ‘their own’ are damaged, disturbed, unbalanced. Here, it seems we have moved on from pity as the ‘childless woman’ is depicted as not only lesser but as a danger to herself and to others. There are many other examples, I think, where there are subtle and not so subtle suggestions that biologically childless women are at best distressed and desperate, in need of pity and help, and at worst villains colluding with, even initiating, the exploitation of their sisters. I accept though that not everyone might read/see/interpret these stories in the same way.

9. What would you like the publishing world to know about non-parents, both as writers and readers, and our stories?
I would like the publishing world, and indeed the world in general, to acknowledge that there are increasing numbers of people who live their lives differently; in ways that challenge the ‘expected’. Living without children in one’s daily life may happen through choice or not. For some non-parenthood is a constant challenge, for some a source of joy, and for others a complex mixture of pleasure and pain. At different times in our lives we likely feel differently about our status and experience as childless, childfree, non-parent, and this should not be treated with judgement, with censure. I want the stories of people like me to be recognised as complex, messy and valuable and for there to be interest in all aspects of our lives and our identities, beyond the reproductive and non/parental.

10. What future plans do you have, especially for your writing?
For a few years now I’ve been running creative writing workshops and writing retreats, and very much enjoy these. I think that creativity is important for all of us and I love it when participants say how much they have enjoyed ‘writing differently’. My own writing continues to lead to both academic and non-academic outputs.

Alongside writings on non/motherhood(ing)/parenthood and on loss recent national and world events, including attacks on the political Left and the
enforced solitude of the Covid-19 lockdowns, have influenced, and impacted on, my writing choices. As noted earlier I have, both in my academic work and in fiction and memoir, always attempted to challenge persistent and harmful stereotypes, not least with respect to the expectations of how to live one’s life as a woman. As I get older the pull of accepting and being grateful for the respect that comes with experience and the push back when I feel positioned in certain ways because of my age as well as my gender informs my writing too. I feel sure that this will continue.