Q&A with Jackie Shannon Hollis, author of This Particular Happiness: A Childless Love Story

“This is what I did. This is what my girlfriends did. With dolls, with little sisters and brothers, with children we babysat. We pretended. We practiced. We prepared. Our mothers said to us, ‘When you grow up.’ ‘When you have your own children.’ No question. We would grow up. We would have children of our own.”

~ from This Particular Happiness: A Childless Love Story


From the title and from the quote above, you might think Jackie Shannon Hollis’ new memoir, This Particular Happiness (Forest Avenue Press) is simply about one woman’s decision not to have children. But this book is so much more.

As women, we revolve around expectations passed down through generations: we will get married; we will have children; we will live happily ever after watching those children grow into adults, marry, have babies of their own. Those expectations may serve one woman well but may cloud the journey of another woman walking the same road.

Jackie Shannon Hollis’ new book digs into beliefs taken on so easily and grapples with the weight of them. When she meets and marries a man who does not want to have children, she must take a closer look at the vision of her life as she had planned it and redefine who she is outside of those expectations.

Written in a structure that mirrors the way we often reason things out, we walk alongside Hollis through past and present, as she studies one moment in relation to another, beginning to see how everything she has experienced is connected, not by the thread of desire to have children but by something much deeper and more vital to the core of her being: the desire to be happy, to love, and to be loved.

I’m thrilled to host Jackie today for an interview about her book, community, and the gift of travel. There’s also a book giveaway! Enter your name HERE by Tuesday, October 8th, for a chance to win a copy of This Particular Happiness.

And now, welcome Jackie Shannon Hollis!


Christi Craig (CC): Your memoir unfolds in a fluid way, moving back and forth in time, and several chapters work as stand-alone essays. Where did you begin in writing This Particular Happiness and when did you know it would become a memoir?

Happiness: Jackie Shannon Hollis

Jackie Shannon Hollis (JSH): I remember the exact moment. I was with my writing group. I brought in what I thought would be  an essay about being childless. I was in my mid-fifties and the essay was intended to explore what it was like to be at that point in my life when the possibility of pregnancy was long past, but the experience of being childless kept unfolding.

As often happens when I am writing these nonfiction pieces, I struggle with the awarenesses that context and personal history are such an important part of our current story. It’s hard to contain a story just in the present because I feel the need to understand how the present experience is informed by the past. As the group was critiquing my piece, they asked questions. “But why didn’t you have children.” “Why was it so important to you to stay with your husband when he didn’t want children and you did.” Well here was the whole entangled story to unravel and explore. I knew right then I wanted to write this longer story. 

CC: One of my favorite passages is in the chapter “A Path to Somewhere New,”where you write, “A friend said, ‘I look at your beautiful garden, your house, even the way you dress. It seems like something is trying to rise up in you.'”

She gently points you toward your creative self and writing, but really, what she says is indicative of how life works. As we go in search of who we are or what we are capable of, the pieces of the puzzle often lay right in front of us, if we are only willing to see them. Your book is testament to discovering those pieces and putting them together. It’s a book that will leave an impression on any woman struggling to move beyond the expectations society places on her. What impression has writing your memoir left on you? Or maybe a better question is, How has writing your memoir changed you?

JSH: Christi, I am so pleased that you were drawn to this chapter because, for me, this was a turning point in my life, for exactly the reason you express here. And it can get lost in the idea that this book is solely about childlessness. I see This Particular Happiness as being about the discovery of self and an exploration of meaning. I think most women go through this at some point, whether they have children or not, a turning point where we look at what we are doing and ask the questions: Is this what I want, or is it someone else’s want? How do I carry the expectations of others? How do I move forward when I know I am turning away from what is expected of me?

Writing this memoir deepened the sense that this path I am on is where all the various threads of my life were leading me. I feel a sense of confidence in myself that comes of no longer being secretive about the fact that I longed for a child, and the times where that longing still rises up. And I feel a confidence that comes from having chosen this different path, one I am happy about and likely would not have found had I followed the expected.

CC: Several years ago you wrote a beautiful guest post for my blog, “Writers as Witness,” where you talk about being in community and the rhythm of writing. What has been the greatest gift in sharing with other writers this journey to self, story, and publication?

JSH: The community of writers IS the gift of this whole experience for me (and I must say my community of non-writers had been delightfully excited about my writing all along and especially about this book).  

Happiness: Writing group gathered at table with pen and paper

I am part of a writing group that meets weekly. We call ourselves The Dreamies. We’ve been together for many years. We know each other and know and respect the unique angle each of us take in critiquing a piece of work that one of us brings in. My memoir was shaped in this group. I cannot thank them enough for their ears and eyes on my pages, and for listening to revision after revision of chapters I was struggling with.

Three of the five other writers in the group have previously published books and their guidance has been so important to me, both in the querying and submitting to publishers, and now in bringing the book out for publication. This is a long and vulnerable process and it helps to have people who have had similar ups and downs offer support, encouragement, advice, and reality checks.

I’ve wanted to have a book out there for a long time. For a while, I’d made peace with the possibility that this might not happen. Now that it is happening, I don’t feel like I am more or less for having a book published. I still feel like me. And yet, I do feel a new kind of confidence that goes with having made it to this point. And there is a certain external validation that comes of having a solid book to hold in my hands.

But most joyous to me is being part of the literary community, being celebrated for showing up, for writing, for continuing to write through difficult times, for risking on the page. This is what the writers I know and honor do for each other. 

CC: What are you reading these days?

JSH: Over the summer I read three ARC’s. Two debut memoirs which captivated me. Codependence: Essays, by Amy L. Long, is an exploration of chronic pain and opiate addiction told from the perspective of someone who understands her addiction and sees it as vital to management of her pain. This Is My Body: A Memoir of Religious and Romantic Obsession, by Cameron Dezen Hammon, is a very personal exploration of her faith and of love. And I read The Royal Abduls, by Ramiza Koya, which is the next book coming out from Forest Avenue Press. I’m really excited about this book. 

I am just now finishing Sion Dayson’s debut novel, As a River.  She writes beautifully and with a sureness I admire, and the story is powerful.

I also listened to two very brutal and deeply researched and beautifully reported non-fiction books on audio. Missoula, by Jon Krakauer. I’m a bit late coming to this book, which came out in 2016. It’s about the sexual assault cases at the university there and the minimal response by the University and law enforcement. And Columbine, by Dave Cullen. Wow is this a powerful book.

CC: In your memoir, you touch on some of your travels. Where is one favorite place to visit?

JSH: I’ve had the good fortune to travel many places. I’m drawn to any place that offers me a view of other ways of living, new perspectives, different foods and landscapes and languages. But also, Bill and I now travel to the same places more than we go to new places. We go to London and Switzerland, to see friends whom we met on our travels. They have become family, which is something I write about in This Particular Happiness.

Happiness: desert land, The Wave Trail in Utah.

Of the places I’ve been, if we’re speaking of landscape alone, I am still most captivated by the southwest desert of the US — Southern Utah, Arizona. I also write about this in my memoir. In the desert you can see, so vividly, how the land was formed — under water, through earthquake and upheavals. The layers of time are painted into the landscape. The colors, the sense of unmarred history consistently draws me back. It’s a beautiful area to hike and to experience solitude.


Jackie Shannon Hollis, a lifelong Oregonian, resides with her husband in a home her friends call the treehouse. Her education and work as a counselor also pushed her to hold up the mirror to her own self. In addition to thinking she would be a mother, she once dreamed of being a June Taylor dancer or a racecar driver. Her short stories and essays have been published in The Sun, Slice, Inkwell, High Desert Journal, Rosebud, and other publications. Read more about Jackie and her writing on her website.

*Photo of group above by Dylan Gillis on Unsplash
*Photo of desert: The Wave Trail, Utah by 
Gert Boers on Unsplash

Don’t forget: enter the giveaway by Tuesday, October 8th, for a chance to win a copy of This Particular Happiness.

Writing Prompt: I’ve let myself just run on like that.

“I’ve let myself just run on like that. I’ve decided that saying something is better than saying something perfectly. Maybe I’ll go back and make it better. Maybe I won’t.”

~ Jan Wilberg, “Addicted”

*Inspired by Jan Wilberg’s post, “Addicted” (read hers in full HERE),
I wanted to use the quote above as a writing prompt.

In letters. On the phone. Face to face. I ask too many questions. I want to know all the details, the trajectory, the plan of action. I’ve let myself just run on like that. Maybe I am predicting every possible scenario, maybe I am collecting story. Mark me anxious or curious or well-rounded in thought, but never mark me without words.


In conversation with my father after my grandmother–his mother–passes away, I sit across from him, the span of his desk and piles of her papers between us. I wonder aloud about her growing up, his growing up. I learn that she had another sibling who died very young, his name left off of the family tree until years later when my grandmother or her sister or…(a detail I have forgotten now) wanted to acknowledge a baby brother, a missing piece to the puzzle of family. I learn that my father played the steel guitar when he was young–in a band! I have never known him to be musical, other than being a fan of Willie Nelson and the old greats. Perhaps because the house was quiet, perhaps because a death makes us more willing, I’ve let myself just run on like that, asking questions, uncovering answers, and he has too.


My daughter goes without her phone one afternoon, and I panic. Well, first I get angry, sure that she is ignoring my text messages–I’m here. Where are you? Hello?, not taking my calls. THEN, my mind turns to the worst. I call another parent, circle the block several times. When answers finally come and she is just down the street, she gets into the car and I let loose with words. Questions. Assumptions. She is learning the art of communication. So am I. Still, I’ve let myself just run on like that, repeating myself for emphasis, falling into a lecture, hands in the air, until finally she stops me. I can see in her eyes she has had enough of my going on. And so have I. We drive in silence, through an intersection, we round a corner, we climb a hill. I lose sight of where I am. Fear got the best of me, I say. At home, we move to separate spaces. Later, I take her to dinner, knowing a change of scenery (and a change of topic) will bring us both back. I tell her about my yoga class that day, how the teacher talked about transitions between poses, how they are so hard but so important. We tend to rush through them, just wanting to get to the other side, and we miss so much. We don’t even think about the steps we must take to get from a warrior pose to a standing pose, tall and strong with arms out like a sunflower. Gaze lifted. Hearts open. Breathe in, breathe out.

I am in transition, I say.

And there is so much to learn.

Q&A with Beth Mayer, author of We Will Tell You Otherwise

“When everyone in the house is finally asleep, I step outside. It is fall in the Midwest and sometimes that means the air is made of silk. My feet bare on the concrete driveway, the night feels good against my skin. Almost like a secret human touch.”

~ from “Tell Me Something I Don’t Know” in We Will Tell You Otherwise.


The gift of stories, fiction or non, is in finding connections: the writer connecting with the reader by creating relatable characters, and the reader rediscovering self as she views the world through the eyes of these characters.

cover image for We Will Tell You Otherwise by Beth Mayer

Beth Mayer’s We Will Tell You Otherwise (just released from Black Lawrence Press), is a collection of short stories about the human spirit and our need for strong connections.

From a father and son brought closer by the death of a stranger, to a mother who takes over the itinerary of a failing family vacation to save her own spirit and that of her kids, to a young wannabe psychic who provides temporary promise in her prediction, Mayer offers readers a close look at the intimacy and ties created in conversations and in correspondence.

Winner of the Hudson Prize (2017), We Will Tell You Otherwise is called “slyly ironic and often sardonic” by David Haynes (A Star in the Face of the Sky), who also says is “these stories kept me smiling all the way through.”

Beth Mayer stopped by during Short Story Month in May, and I’m thrilled to host her again, this time for an author interview. I’m also hosting a giveaway! ENTER HERE by Tuesday, August 27th, for a chance to win a copy of Mayer’s new collection (courtesy of Caitlin Hamilton Marketing & Publicity and Black Lawrence Press).

Now, welcome Beth Mayer!

Christi Craig (CC): In your guest post on my blog during Short Story Month, you talk about the complexity in crafting short stories and say, “I have grown to understand how, when I give myself permission, a short story determines itself.” How did this collection come together? Did you have a plan from the beginning or did the whole of the book fall into place organically?

Beth Mayer: I’ve been writing short stories for a long time. Once I got serious about my first collection, I knew I was getting close when it was a finalist in a few book contests. Looking back, I see now before this book was really done, I was busy getting better, revising, writing new stories, and refining my vision. With a lot of patience and faithful work, this collection determined itself and I love where we ended up.

CC: “Darling, Won’t You Tell Me True?” is a story about Mr. James Harrington, who begins a correspondence with his mother’s caretaker, Miss Christopher, after his mother dies. Through James’ letters only (we never read a word that Miss Christopher writes), we see a relationship unfold, a budding romance, and the pieces of the entire story are present in his responses as he writes such things he might never say aloud face to face. Your story is fiction, sure, but there’s always truth in fiction. What is it about the intimacy of letters that allows us as humans to open up in ways we could not otherwise?

Beth: I am fascinated by old letters, documents, recipes with notes on them. My old postcard collection—ones with writing on them that I found in antique shops—reveals how the stuff of life can be shared through personal correspondence. Think the crops were good; the baby died; I am back from war and still sweet on you, if you’ll have me.

As a reader, and writer, I find fictional epistolary of all kinds quite engaging. Humans, I suppose, think that letters allow us to craft our messages. Perhaps time and distance allow us to feel less vulnerable since we aren’t face-to-face with how our message is received. And isn’t it interesting that in 2019 we are again writing back and forth—albeit digitally and with immediacy—about the most mundane and intimate matters?

CC: On your website, you write about winning the Loft Mentor Series in fiction and the power of working with a mentor. How has that experience affected your work on short stories and continued to inspire you as an author?

Beth: To begin, the chance to be expected and required to regularly show up to the Loft in Minneapolis—which is a beautiful space—felt good. That time was pivotal for me. It had been a while since I had finished my MFA and landed my teaching position, so I made a conscious decision to really use my program year to renew my commitment to my writing and to my life as a writer. Several of the new stories I wrote challenged me in the best possible ways, because I was ready to be challenged. Those same stories informed my collection as a whole and are now part of my first book. From my year in the program, I have lasting friendships and am now even more committed to helping my own students or mentees discover what it is they are aiming to do on the page.

CC: What are you reading these days?

Beth: The Best American Science Fiction and Fantasy 2017, Edited by Charles Yu, Little Fires Everywhere by Celeste Ng, The Best We Could Do: An Illustrated Memoir by Thi Bui, Parable of the Sower by Octavia Butler.

CC: Being from Minneapolis, I imagine your summers are as short and sweet as those in Wisconsin. What’s your favorite summer activity that not only feeds your need for play for also fuels your creativity?

Beth: The best summer for me comes with time for thinking and dreaming. Time to take in ideas and images makes me happy and helps spark my own imagination. My husband and I like to have coffee out on our patio and walk our spoiled little dog. I love to spend time at the lake place that my extended family shares in Wisconsin. And as a teacher, reading whatever strikes and interests me is one of my greatest summer pleasures.


BETH MAYER’S fiction has appeared in The Threepenny ReviewThe Sun Magazine, and The Midway Review. She was afiction finalist for The Missouri Review’s Jeffrey E. Smith Editors’ Prize (2016), her work recognized among “Other Distinguished Stories” by Best American Mystery Stories (2010), and her stories anthologized in both American Fiction (New Rivers) and New Stories from the Midwest (Ohio University). Mayer holds an MFA in creative writing from Hamline University. She currently teaches English at Century College in Minnesota, where she lives with her family and impossibly faithful dog.

DON’T FORGET! Enter the giveaway by Tuesday, August 27th,
for a chance to win a copy of We Will Tell You Otherwise.