Lil O'Brien

1. Please tell us a bit about yourself and your work.
I’m a freelance copywriter by day who always likes to have a passion project on the go. This led to my first book, Not That I’d Kiss A Girl: A Kiwi Girl’s Tale of Coming Out and Coming of Age – a memoir, and most recently an anthology of essays called Otherhood: Essays on Being Childless, Childfree or Child-adjacent. I edited this with Kathryn van Beek and with Alie Benge. The publication of Not That I’d Kiss A Girl has led me to screenwriting as we adapt the book for film and that’s been a super cool experience that’s taught me a lot of new skills.

2. Has writing always been a focus for you or was it a Plan B?
I mean, this is an interestingly-phrased question. I don’t think parenting and writing is an either-or situation! But if I dig into this a bit more, I agree that a big life event like going through fertility treatments etc. can spark the drive to write. Writing has always been a big part of my life, but the events of my coming out as a teenager and into my early 20s is something that was a huge catalyst to the path my writing career has taken. And then I guess my fertility journey is something I knew I would write about at some point – and that eventually became Otherhood. For me, writing about things that have happened in my life is a way of honouring them. Addressing them and giving them meaning, and ultimately putting them to bed so I can move on.

3. How do you explore ideas or find inspiration for your work?
It takes a lot for me to commit to writing something and I’m not prolific in my output. Possibly that’s because my income is derived from copywriting, so although that’s not emotionally-fulfilling, it does scratch a certain itch as it means I write every day.

I’m constantly collecting observations or insights and sometimes that will spill over into a project. That’s often sparked by someone giving me an opportunity. I’m terrified of letting people down so it’s what cracks the whip on me to actually start and finish things. Like someone asking me to write an essay – or with Otherhood, it was sparked by a Twitter conversation with Kathryn and Alie about a fantastic essay called ‘No Miracle Baby to See Here’ by Kate Camp (which you can read in Otherhood). We were talking about what a great topic it is, but I possibly wouldn’t have done anything about it if Kathryn hadn’t emailed me the next day with a pitch. We roped in Alie and then we all became accountable. And I’m glad we did, because it was an amazing experience, both in working with them and by having 33 other writers sharing their stories about being an ‘other’.

4. What does the process of writing involve for you?
I’m not disciplined, and every project has involved a different method, so the answer is "What process?" I wrote most of Not That I’d Kiss A Girl at pubs and bars and restaurants, because I would bribe myself to write with a beer or cocktail. This is not conducive to writing a lot, unless of course I
embrace the alcoholic writer trope. Writing requires me not only alone time to write, but also the right conditions to build up to that moment. I’m always searching for the right emotional state first, which is a terrible approach. There’s also a certain selfishness you need to have to be a writer; to carve out time for yourself and protect and value it. And I think that can be hard, especially for women.

With Not That I’d Kiss A Girl I had no idea of what I was doing so I just wrote instinctively, starting with a bunch of anecdotes and fleshing them out. I knew I’d open the book with the scene of my actual accidental outing to my parents – the hook – and then I went back to my childhood and worked
forward. Now that I’ve been exposed to the publishing industry more, with my next book I’m trying to use the Scrivener app and become more of a ‘plotter’ than a pantser.

5. And what does writing then also give you in return?
The time after I’ve just finished a writing session is the time when I feel most at peace. When you’ve exhausted yourself mentally but also can feel like you’ve achieved something with your day – that’s a hard state of mind for me to reach. I have a problem with needing to feel I’ve made the most of every day.

On a wider scope, since I published my first book, my life has opened up so much. Yes, because it introduced me to a writing community, but also because it’s the first time in my life that opportunities came to me, rather than me having to create them. Like being asked to do this profile! Or speak at writer’s festivals and be on podcasts. It unlocked a lot and has made me feel more fulfilled.
 

At an emotional level, I think very few people will get to experience what I’ve been lucky enough to experience from the publication of my books, particularly Not That I’d Kiss a Girl. People – often young women – have messaged me from all over the world saying it talked to them in a way they’d
never experienced before. Gave them comfort, made them feel seen. To me that is the best possible outcome of publishing your writing in some way. That and when people tell you that your story made them cry, lol. Otherhood has also provoked some amazing responses, so I guess at its core I’m
interested in finding connection and meaning-making.

6. Has seeing your work in print changed how you view yourself, and also how you view your NoMo status?
It has definitely been an ego boost, I can’t lie. Particularly with my earliest publications, it was the first time that someone validated my writing. What makes you go "Oh, maybe this is actually good!" And it makes you feel the power of writing, which is heady. I think most writers start out as readers, so we know how powerful writing is, but the first time you get feedback on your work you start to see that anyone can be a writer. Even you!

I’d also like to clarify that ‘in print’ or ‘published’ can mean so many things. One of my most meaningful experiences was writing a fan fiction in my early 20s and getting online fans. So you don’t need to publish in traditional ways, or even have an audience to feel good about your writing.

In terms of my NoMo status, no. The thing that challenges me most related to being a NoMo is now having stepkids, after going through IVF then deciding that I didn’t want children. Because I feel like I have a foot in both camps. I understand parents more now, and how you want to talk about the kids in your life. But I don’t identify as a parent or know how to label myself – I resist a label. We have a great essay in Otherhood by Jazial Crossley where she talks about not identifying with the word ‘stepmother’. And that’s me too. I’m like "Don’t put me in a box!"

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?
I don’t think it’s changed how people view my identity, but it is nice to be able to articulate the experience I had on my fertility journey with my essay in Otherhood. Which in some ways was very common, but then had the particulars of being a queer person navigating the American fertility industry, as a foreigner. Because when you have a miscarriage, for example, or people know you’re going through fertility treatments, you can’t tell most people the details. It would be a bummer, or it’s boring to them, or they can never understand it, or perhaps even it’s a sensitive subject if they’ve
been through something themselves. When you write an essay about it, you get to put all that out there, and people can choose to dive in or not, but at least you got to put all your rage and sadness or even share the funny things that happened. And I think it gives them a whole new level of understanding about your experience. Even if one essay is completely inadequate to capture what you went through.

8. How do you feel about the current representation of childless and/or childfree people in literature?
To be honest – and this is going to sound weird given I’m one of the editors of a book about not having children – I don’t think about it that much. It’s very underrepresented, and that’s why we wanted to create Otherhood. To bring conversations and experiences into the light. To give people ways to feel seen, and have their feelings and experiences validated. I think we achieved that and I’m so glad to have a book out in the world that I think will always have an audience.

But it’s not something I carry with me every day, like I do with being queer. I see everything through a queer lens, but I don’t often find myself putting on the childfree lens. And possibly there is a link there. As a queer woman I’ve always been surrounded by so many other women who don’t have kids. It’s certainly not an expectation for our community. I think straight people have it so much harder, with the expectations and the dumb comments they have to put up with!

9. What would you like the publishing world to know about non-parents, both as writers and readers, and our stories?
I guess I’d just like any kind of content creators or facilitators to think twice about their messaging. You cannot create or publish for some kind of ‘ideal’ if you want to create things that are meaningful and add to our society – in so many senses. And that happens in so many fields. As a copywriter, for example, so many brands I write for talk about things being ‘family-friendly’ and you know they’re meaning the nuclear family. Which is just so not what most families are. So I guess I’d like to see gatekeepers and creators facing more consequences – particularly financial ones, as that’s what it usually takes to change behaviour, sadly – for perpetuating outdated ideas and ideals.

10. What future plans do you have, especially for your writing?
Hopefully finding a more sustainable way to write my novel that doesn’t involve going to the pub. The novel is about a woman who blows up her life to find self-fulfilment and self-actualization, and the flip side of that, which is how being selfish can affect your relationships. Given how many childfree people are told they’re selfish, I can see this audience being into it, so watch this space!