Melissa Ostrom has written two YA novels, The Beloved Wild (Feiwel & Friends, March 2018) and Unleaving (Feiwel & Friends, March 2019). Her writing has also appeared in The Florida Review, Fourteen Hills, Juked, and The Baltimore Review, among others. She teaches English at Genesee Community College. In Unleaving, Ostrom studies the rhythms and repercussions of trauma as well as the toll it takes on a young person’s life in particular.
Caroline Hagood: In Unleaving, you tackle such a challenging and important topic, college sexual assault, in a nuanced way. You not only discuss trauma, but you also show how it works on a daily basis. What sort of research and/or mental preparation was necessary to get to a place where you felt ready to embark on such an ambitious and significant project?
Melissa Ostrom: Thank you for the kind words, Caroline!
Typically, my writing begins with a question or an inkling. If I think it’s worth researching, I’ll find books related to the matter, flesh out my thoughts, and learn as much as I can.
Unleaving didn’t unfold that way. The horror of sexual assault has weighed heavily on my mind for years. In the past, if I read books and articles about abuse, rape, or trauma, I did so simply because I needed to know more. I didn’t have immediate plans for a writing project. Frequently, however, after reading something on the subject, I’d feel so sad and wonder about the person who’d been harmed. Was she or he holding up? Surviving? Moving on?
I suppose the idea for Unleaving eventually sprang from these questions. By muddling with my main character Maggie through the aftermath of her trauma, I was searching for the possibility of justice and healing. I was hoping for hope.
CH: What were you reading around the time of writing this book? What words were revolving in your head?
MO: I read many excellent books, but a few were especially helpful. Dr. Bessel van der Kolk’s The Body Keeps the Score, Alice Sebold’s Lucky, and Jon Krakauer’s Missoula expertly and compassionately investigate the subjects of rape, trauma, and abuse. The latter two works also reveal the many challenges—legal, social, emotional—survivors face in seeking justice.
CH: What are your thoughts on the #MeToo and Time’s Up movements? In what ways did they inform your writing?
MO: I started Unleaving back in 2014, but I think I must have been sensing the reckoning that was ripening and the rumblings of enough-is-enough. I was very ready for these movements.
CH: Your language is so rich and polished. What was your writing and revision process? In what ways have you worked on your writing—writing workshops and so forth?
MO: I appreciate that! I don’t have an MFA, though I did take workshops—all poetry—as an undergrad at SUNY Binghamton and as a grad student at the Middlebury Bread Loaf School of English. I got to study under Ruth Stone and Paul Muldoon. They were amazing teachers.
Mostly what I’ve had are books. I’m an avid reader, and over the years, without actually seeking instruction while enjoying good stories, I must have been learning, nevertheless.
I didn’t start crafting prose until ten years ago, around the time my first child was born. Sometimes I wonder why these two beginnings coincided—if maybe the radical shift in my daily activities and concerns made me hyperaware of my life being different (itself, a new story) or if maybe I was just flying through a ton of novels at the time (since holding a paperback was one thing I could do while nursing) and therefore got to thinking, Huh. I should try to write one of these.
Whatever the reason, writing fiction has become my early-morning ritual, my two or three hours of solitude and quiet before the kids wake up. I usually start with what I wrote the previous day and tweak, delete, shape, and add, then I try to drum up a bit more.
After I do what I can to polish a piece on my own, I turn to friends. I’m fortunate to know some wordsmiths who are willing to offer me their time and expertise. Most weeks, my wonderful writing pal Amber and I swap stories and help each other out. My brother Robert Ostrom is a terrific poet, and we’ll sometimes work together, too. Also, I’m not sure how I got so lucky, but the award-winning writer Rebecca Stead happens to be my agent. She provides invaluable assistance on my longer projects and has taught me a great deal. I’ve learned so much from my talented editor Liz Szabla, as well. She has an uncanny knack for discerning narrative missteps and gaps. These four individuals give me honest, excellent feedback. I’m grateful for them.
CH: What do you want to say to young women who have undergone such assaults?
MO: That they’re not alone. That there are ways forward, toward healing and (if they want to and if they’re ready) toward sharing. That change is happening. I often think about our current national conversation about rape, how more and more people are refusing to lug around the painful memories of their assault and harassment in silence. I think about this, and I marvel, and I hope. That even more change is possible and necessary. That our society still has work to do in fostering an environment in which survivors can freely and safely tell their stories. That rape is not just a girl problem, a female issue. It’s an everyone issue. That the best way to stop sexual violence isn’t to teach girls how to use their house keys as weapons but to teach boys about consent, self-control, respect, and boundaries—in short, to raise boys who don’t rape.