Writers’ Insight: Interview with Sarahmarie Specht-Bird, Winner of The Letter Review Prize for Nonfiction


How do you believe a writer improves? Practice? Mentors? Reading everything? Attending festivals? 

It’s a pretty basic answer, but I think the only way to improve is to write, and then write some more, and even when you think you’ve written enough, keep writing. But I also think that there comes a point, particularly when you’ve run out of ideas, that you have to back away and read something else. I find a lot of inspiration in the words of others, especially travel memoirs and nature writing, and I find that taking a break and reading those perspectives can unlock a new window on the world that can’t be gained from continuing to bash my head against an idea that won’t cooperate. I also have a few favorite books whose writing I really admire and strive to emulate. I find it helpful to go back to lines from those texts and reread particularly powerful sentences, and then try to break down why they’re so powerful, and harness that energy in my own work. 

What motivates you to write?

The urge to feel resolution, or to solve, or to make meaning. My default reaction to anything in my life, whether it’s something positive, neutral, or negative, is to write about it. I have to write in order to process my experience. It’s less of a choice and more of a reflex. 

What is the best piece of advice you have received? Or, what is the best piece of advice you would offer an aspiring writer? 

One of my sociology professors in college told me that I was a good writer but that my use of modifiers was holding me back. He had printed out the first page of a term paper I’d submitted and circled every adjective and adverb I’d used. The paper was covered in red ink. It was brutal, but he was right. Obviously, that was expository academic writing rather than creative work, but it still sticks with me. I’ll find myself rereading something I’ve written and thinking, Do I have too many modifiers? Am I getting in my own way? It taught me to be more sparing and precise when possible, even if it’s not my instinctual style. 

Who would you say are your literary forebears? Who have you learned the most from?

My favorite book is This is How You Lose the Time War by Amal el-Mohtar and Max Gladstone. I have read it at least four times; I’m endlessly inspired by the way those two authors weave words together. It’s art. I return to it often for inspiration, comfort, and relief from writer’s block.

Robin Wall Kimmerer continually reinforces my respect for Indigenous knowledge and my love of the natural world. Reading Braiding Sweetgrass for the first time scrambled my brain chemistry in the best possible way. 

Amy Leach’s whimsical Things That Are informed my ability to make unusual connections between creatures, their environments, and my relationships with them. 

Carrot Quinn’s writing in her zines, blog, and tender book Thru Hiking Will Break Your Heart was my gateway drug to writing about long-distance hiking. 

Mary Oliver’s instructions for living a life are my writing mantra: “Pay attention. Be astonished. Tell about it.”

What do you believe is the function of your art? 

Comfort and curiosity.

I hope that my art makes other people feel seen, and therefore comforted. When we read something that resonates, or describes an experience we feel crazy for having because no one else around us seems to understand, it makes us feel like we’re not on our own after all. 

I also hope that my art makes other people question or wonder about things they have never questioned or wondered about before. It’s the teacher in me, I think. I want to inspire curiosity because I believe that genuine curiosity is the antidote to fear. 

What do you find most inspiring? 

Nature. Being outside, anywhere outside, but especially on a long-distance hiking trail, or in the Appalachian foothills in the springtime. Basically none of my writing has ever sprung from being indoors. It’s not where we’re supposed to be.