English 2281: A Writer’s Life—Publication Capstone interview with Tracy Youngblom

Tracy, thank you so much for answering our questions about your award-winning memoir Because We Must.

1.      AURORA MONTHONY: Because We Must followed the journey you and your family were thrust into and the challenges you faced after your youngest son, Elias, was in a car accident that left all of your lives forever changed. In the very beginning of the book, you said to Elias that you would not write a book about him. What was the catalyst to changing your mind? Was there a certain moment you realized you would write your (and his) story?

TRACY YOUNGBLOM: There wasn’t a certain moment, there was more a gradual process. But it wasn’t entirely a conscious process.  I started writing in the fall after the accident, just as a way to process some of the emotions. I was back in the classroom, and my life resumed a structure, a shape, that belied how chaotic my emotional life felt. So, I was just venting—using what I knew about the essay form to try to capture some emotions, gathering them under some “themes” or ideas. The writing was raw and not ready for an audience.

Then, on New Year’s Day 2016, my computer got a virus, and I LOST all that writing. After that loss, I was furious, and I began trying to reconstruct what I had written, and that attempt to recapture—to prevent anything from stealing my work--lead me pretty steadily to thinking I should keep going. By March of that year, I can see from earlier drafts, I was starting to consider an audience, and so at least informally I was thinking “book.”

2.      IODINE CONNETT: In Because We Must, the story is largely told non-chronologically, jumping back and forth through the timeline of Elias’s recovery following his life-altering accident—even, at times, reaching back into his childhood. My question is, how do you interpret the fragmented arrangement of those moments to shape how a reader might understand or digest the story as a whole? What compelled you to structure the memoir this way, as opposed to a more forward-moving narrative?

TRACY YOUNGBLOM: The shape of the later essays—I love how you describe them—arose organically as I continued to write. Something would happen in the present—for instance, Elias returning very quickly to working with marching band students—and I would see his altered physical shape and know with certainty the accident hadn’t changed the core of who he was. So, though the world saw a blind young man who could barely walk, I just saw my son in his most true form. And for me, writing about observing his struggles and progress, I naturally connected it to other vivid events from his earlier life that showed his character. I don’t want to say this was totally conscious. I also found it hard to write straight narrative about the present. So, the collage-type form of the essays allowed me to write in small fragments and suggest meaning rather than pronounce. Actually, that’s how I think readers can follow along. That’s how I think memory works for us—we process things bit by bit, not in full understanding, but in a gradual shaping of understanding over time.

3.      IODINE CONNETT: In what ways do you look back on Elias’s first weeks in the hospital differently, knowing now that he doesn’t remember much of it? How did that realization recontextualize that period of time for you? How do you believe this informed the choice to tell sequence of events in the memoir out of order?

TRACY YOUNGBLOM: As I learned from him that my understanding of that time was flawed, it was shocking—it made me see how mistaken we were—and how that made the discovery of his blindness more devastating. In writing about it, especially in the initial first 3 chapters, I wanted to present how it was for us at the time—as we were going through it.  That was our truth.  In a way, it still is—my knowledge that I was wrong doesn’t alter what I thought at the time, but now my knowledge makes me feel a bit sheepish—it shows me my own vulnerability. At the time, I didn’t feel like I could be vulnerable; now, I can.

Then, as to the question about order: later in the memoir—for instance in the chapter called “Trauma”—we finally talk about it, and that’s its own kind of truth.  We really didn’t get to discussing this aspect of it until several years after the accident.  That seems strange, but I think looking back is a privilege, and for the first several years we had to focus on the future, to keep thinking about moving ahead. Again: I hope this isn’t confusing for readers; I do think we all come to an understanding of an

emotional truth only over time.

4.      YURI RYUUGAWA: In Because We Must, you said that you were mindful of people's privacy, such as healthcare personnel. How did you balance maintaining people's privacy, especially Elias', as talking about someone's body can sensitive territory to navigate?

TRACY YOUNGBLOM: That wasn’t as challenging as it may seem. It was his idea for the book—even if his suggestion was meant ironically.  So that gave me a sense of freedom to write about him and include relevant details. That’s what I tried to keep in mind, to balance: relevance. What was necessary for the story, rather than including EVERYTHING that happened.

In truth, I revealed the most specific and sensitive details in the CaringBridge posts I kept for a year. I explained in depth the procedures he underwent, his reactions, our reactions. So in a way, those posts were far more revealing than what eventually ended up in the book. As Elias regained his consciousness of the world, I occasionally shared with him the posts and people’s reactions. It was a huge boost to his recovery to know that people were thinking of him, praying for him, cheering him on.

I did also share drafts of some chapters as I wrote, too, so we kept up a dialog about the book’s progress. He never asked me to keep anything private—except, we both agreed the driver’s name would not appear in the book.

5.      YURI RYUUGAWA: Were there moments where your memory or perspective differed from the memory of the people in Because We Must? If so, how did you decide which "version" of the memory to tell? What conversations did you have with your family while writing your memoir, and how did their responses impact the final version of the story?

TRACY YOUNGBLOM: There weren’t really any disputed memories. As I said, I kept a CaringBridge site, and I consulted it as I wrote; they were accurate as to details of recovery, dates, people in attendance.  Of course, I didn’t report EVERYTHING that was happening!  One family member did request I include more specific prayer requests in the CaringBridge posts, such as asking people to pray for Elias’s sight to be restored. But I never did that; I guess I didn’t expect that to happen, so I didn’t request that.

In the later stages of writing the memoir, I sent parts of chapters to family members—to check the accuracy of what I had included and to make sure they were all right with being included. There were no quibbles; people wanted the story in the world—Elias’s remarkable story—so they gave permission readily.

6.      AURORA MONTHONY: Most of Because We Must is written in a rather straightforward, “typical” prose format, with the exception of the section titled “Recovery in Two Acts, with an Interlude,” which is written in a play format. Why did you decide to include a play format in your book, and why did you choose that section (and only that section) to be written in that style?TRACY YOUNGBLOM: I was struggling with that section in later revisions. Actually, it was a rather late revision to make the early chapters so narrative based.  Previously, they were more reflective. But after I revised the chapters up to discovering Elias’s blindness, I felt I needed to write about the rest of his hospital stays—I scoured the CaringBridge posts, trying to decide what I would focus on.  Those months were really different than the first month, up to the diagnosis of blindness.  I didn’t feel like trying to give a narrative account of them would work well, and because they were so different, that didn’t seem like the right form.

One reader of the manuscript had made a comment about the draft in general—that I should consider “dramatizing” scenes more—including more about the who, what, when, where. And that comment stuck with me. 

And suddenly—I know it sounds dramatic, but it really was a split-second decision—I thought, “I should literally dramatize those months!” It was a “Eureka” moment.  Once I had the idea, I revisited the CaringBridge posts and selected the scenes/moments that seemed most important.  It helped me have a sense of purpose—focusing on moments of significance in his LONG recovery in those facilities. 

7.      AURORA MONTHONY: In “Recovery in Two Acts, with an Interlude,” the scenes flow from one to the next without much warning and swap in the middle of conversations. Why did you choose to cut scenes off midway in this section, such as leaving Elias’s question about what happened to the other driver unanswered? Why did you choose to have Mother/Narrator address the audience at that time?

TRACY YOUNGBLOM: That is a great question, and I don’t know that I can answer it clearly because it wasn’t as conscious of a decision.  Once I selected the moments from the CaringBridge posts, I saw that I was trying to highlight Elias’s recovery—focusing on the times he said or did something remarkable.  So sometimes the scenes are really just moments cut from the entire cloth of a day—so not scenes, really.

For instance, the opening scene, with question you mentioned, when he had only just learned to talk: I felt like his question showed what I was trying to show, that even after a life-changing discovery, he wasn’t thinking only of himself, but the other driver. In addition, I recall his dad and I being speechless--not really knowing what to say. The question reverberated for us, and I wanted it to reverberate for the audience.

The Mother/Narrator’s speech to the audience was excerpted from CaringBridge—almost verbatim. I wrote it right after the transfer, and I spoke not so much of Elias but of our need for continued support. So, I decided that the Mother/Narrator should speak to the audience, as I had in that post.

8.      IODINE CONNETT: As described in a 2023 Atticus Review of one of your previous releases, Boy, the book explores grief through a series of poems. It shares some similarities with Because We Must in that it, too, describes family tragedy and traversing those emotions, and truths. How has death (or mortality, as Elias’s survival truly is a brush with death) influenced your worldview, and, in extension, your writing?

TRACY YOUNGBLOM: Losing my brother in childhood was indeed a loss—but it was not the only loss by a long stretch. From the time I was six and I lost my beloved grandfather, there was a string of relative deaths, of which my brother’s, though certainly the most difficult, was not the last. So, my early childhood was full of death.

At the time, I wasn’t thinking of a worldview, but I did obviously see that death was going to be a part of the journey, so I could not be surprised at it or try to prevent it.

However, what happened to Elias was a tremendous loss—one edged with gratitude because he’s alive, isn’t he? But the crash was completely unaccountable—preventable.  A single person’s bad decision determined his future. So that event has shaken me more than anything that happened previously. He had no control, we have no control—perhaps none of us has any control over what happens.

I don’t like to be cynical—as a person of faith—or at least a person who aspires to faith—that seems like giving up.  But I am always aware, now, that seemingly out of nowhere something could happen--another devastation.  I have tried to respond to that reality with gratitude—for instance, I value my relationships, especially with my sons, and express that gratitude to myself daily. But I also hold on loosely—I don’t want to turn into some kind of helicopter parent, never letting my children alone to live their lives. That paradoxical stance, I guess, is my new worldview.

It is hard to say how this has impacted my writing. I will say I have no new “project” yet—just working on some older projects.  I like to trust that another idea will come to me, and I hope it does—but right now I don’t know what that idea might be. 

9.      IODINE CONNETT: As the name suggests, there is a prevailing theme of perseverance throughout Because We Must, a seeming obligation to press on through the incredible hardship. It suggests that one’s only path forward in the face of tragedy is endurance. Often in the memoir, hope and optimism are coping mechanisms for a tremendously heavy trauma that the family communally bears. How did you land on this phrase for the title of the memoir, and what does that choice say about the story?

TRACY YOUNGBLOM: The title as you know is the ending of the opening, prologue chapter.  That phrase was even in early drafts, so it was an idea that was intricately woven with my writing about Elias’s recovery. But it wasn’t the title until later—until I realized that that idea describes both our (very different) approaches to the trauma and recovery.

I think the story IS that idea. Of course, all of us have the choice of giving up, laying down, refusing to live.  But most people don’t do that. Even when it seems impossible to go on, we usually do. There is something compelling us to stubbornly cling to life, even when we don’t want to.  I think people experience that in many situations, a response to many types of loss.

10.   IODINE CONNETT: In “Spatial,” you say that you wish you could adjust to Elias’s blindness as well as he has. How did the writing process for Because We Must lend itself to reconciling with these feelings, and how did that process impact how you chose to write about it?

TRACY YOUNGBLOM: As I wrote, I realized that he was doing better than I was—moving forward with freedom, with mostly happiness. Our paths of recovery diverged in that way—I was still struggling with the adjustment, and he was less so as time went on.

I discovered that truth only as I wrote—so the process of writing the book revealed to me the disparity.  I don’t think I can reconcile it; our experiences are still very different. As a parent, I will continue to grieve for the imposed changes on my son’s life, even as I continue to be grateful for who he is and how he’s responded to the loss. 

11.   YURI RYUUGAWA: As a reader, several scenes were difficult to read, including picturing Elias’ recovery and him facing the driver who hit him in court. But for me personally, reading how you read The Tale of Despereaux to Elias hit me the most because it reminded me of reading to my own Mother during difficult medical events in her life. What was the most difficult scene for you to write in Because We Must, and how did you decide it needed to be included?

TRACY YOUNGBLOM: It was definitely difficult to write the few scenes about the driver.  In fact, those scenes weren’t included until very late drafts, when readers asked me about her. Only their readerly curiosity compelled me to include anything about her. I had avoided it because I didn’t want her to have any notice or attention.

But the later chapters, including “Cutting Words” and “Light”—especially “Light”—were especially difficult to write because they highlighted for me the reality I struggled to accept. Elias really did say to me, “I don’t even know what you look like. I haven’t seen you in three years,” and that struck me with such force. It still does.

Of course, he was just stating his reality; he didn’t mean anything by it. That encapsulates the difference in our perspectives: his not being able to see me is simply life, but it symbolizes for me the depth of his loss—and my loss. It will always be difficult for me, thinking about what he can’t see and how the accident changed the trajectory of his life.

12.   YURI RYUUGAWA: In the introduction of Because We Must, Elias was in the beginning of his recovery, and you said you didn’t know how his story would end. By the end of the memoir, we’re three years post-accident. How did time help shape your perspective and the memoir?

TRACY YOUNGBLOM: What I meant when I wrote that was very specific at the beginning: was he going to see again?  I didn’t hope for it, exactly, but a part of me must have—thinking that maybe some new technology or treatment would appear. When I wrote those words, the pain was pretty raw—he was still in a wheelchair, encumbered by medical equipment: it was hard to imagine his life, even, as an able-bodied person.

As time went on, my perspective changed, and part of that change was due to writing the memoir.  I could see that he was going to reshape his life—that’s what I was capturing in the chapters, his actual process of doing that—and that the reshaping wasn’t going to diminish the quality of his life.  So, as I wrote about his progress, I had to adjust my attitude as well. In a general way, then, writing the memoir helped me see that he didn’t need to see to have a great life. 

13.   AURORA MONTHONY: You said in your interview with Paige Riehl in Midway Journal that you had written poems to include in this book, but at the last minute pulled them out because it felt like you had been forcing them in. Did you ever do anything with these poems? If not, do you plan to?

TRACY YOUNGBLOM: I am inordinately fond of those poems!  I still send them out occasionally, to see if they can be published, but no luck so far.

When I think about it now, only two of them were actually pretty good poems—but to me they worked best in the context of the memoir. Perhaps that’s why they haven’t been published. Perhaps they do not really stand alone very well.

14.   YURI RYUUGAWA: There are several moments in Because We Must where you set your emotions temporarily aside to support your son and the rest of the family, such as when you first received the news about Elias’ optic nerves. How did these moments, as well as writing the memoir itself, change your understanding of resilience and strength?

TRACY YOUNGBLOM: I don’t think those moments changed me or my understanding—they reinforced the resilience that my childhood taught me. As I said previously, I lost many people as a child; my parents divorced; I lived with a single mother in a time when no one did that. So, I learned to be resilient, to pursue things like school that gave me something to look forward to.

I have been asked before what I learned from the experience of this particular loss. And the answer is always partly about the whole notion of plowing forward—because we must—about how I can put the emotional pot on the back burner.  I don’t necessarily think it’s good to be able to do that—in the moment, perhaps—but I have worried that I have permanently shut down some of my capacity to feel and experience freely.

15.   AURORA MONTHONY: Did it help you emotionally to write about the accident and Elias’s progress, or was it a struggle? Did you choose to tell this story because you wanted to or because you felt you had to? What advice would you have for others who feel compelled to write about deeply personal or traumatic experiences?

TRACY YOUNGBLOM: Can I say both?!  It did help, but it was a struggle. Often, I wrote alone late at night, and often with gut-wrenching emotions as I tried to be honest about what was happening.  I didn’t always share the writing right away, but when I started to have readers and receive feedback, it made the difficulty of it more bearable.

I wanted the story in the world; I wanted to share the story of Elias’s resilience and offer him as an inspiration, which I think he is.  But I also felt compelled to write about it.  Even if I had never published this book, I would have done some of the writing on my own—as I wrote the CaringBridge posts for the first year as a way to process the overload of information and news.  I do try to get to meaning and understanding of life through writing—and with any luck I will continue to do that.

My advice to writers is to be patient with yourself. Writing about traumatic experiences seems to take more time and require more revision—at least it did for me. There is no “right” way to do it, either—I didn’t know what I was writing and then when I figured out I was writing a book, I didn’t know much about writing a memoir. So, I was really feeling my way along, and discovering the form the book ultimately took was a years-long process.  I was not only having to decide WHAT to focus on but HOW to express the ideas.  I definitely didn’t think a straightforward narrative was going to work, because the grief of loss isn’t necessarily processed in an orderly way—more like sporadically and over time. So as others write their stories, they might encounter a similar conundrum: deciding not only WHAT to write, but also HOW to form those ideas into a shape that fits the experience.

Tracy Youngblom earned an MA in English from the University of St. Thomas and an MFA in Poetry from the Warren Wilson College low-residency program. She has been writing and publishing poems since the early 1990s. She has published two chapbooks of poems, Driving to Heaven and One Bird a Day, as well as two full-length collections, Growing Big and the recent Boy. Her awards and honors include two Pushcart nominations, including one in 2017 for a poem from Boy. In addition to poems, her memoir, Because We Must, won the Juniper Prize for Creative Nonfiction and was published by the University of Massachusetts Press in March 2025.