We all deal in grief in our own ways. Some people retreat into themselves, others find solace in a bottle, still others turn to their friends and loved ones for solace.
For cartoonist Sarah Leavitt, the death of her longtime partner Donimo — who had chronic health issues, and chose to end her suffering in April of 2020 — her way of dealing was to write and draw the comics she’s now collected as Something, Not Nothing: A Story Of Grief And Love (paperback, Kindle).
In the following email interview, Leavitt explains what she wrote about in these comics, why she decided to release them for all to see, and whether doing all of this helped her deal with her grief.
Photo Credit: Jackie Dives
To start, what is Something, Not Nothing about?
Something, Not Nothing is a collection of short comics I made in the first two years after my partner, Donimo, died. She had a number of chronic health issues, particularly myalgic encephalomyelitis (ME), which caused extreme fatigue, weakness, and pain. During the last months of her life, her health declined rapidly and she made the decision to have a medically assisted death in April 2020.
What prompted you to write Something, Not Nothing?
I wanted to document what I was going through and share it. I initially posted the comics on Instagram, and after a while began to think about collecting them in a book. This work is much more experimental than my previous comics. As I tried to convey what it was like to survive her death, I found myself using color, shape, and texture as opposed to representational imagery, and the text was often more poetic than I was used to writing. Grief was completely disorienting — like I was in a new world that I didn’t understand very well. It was a huge challenge to write / draw about the experience, and although I was diving into the depths of grief, death, pain, and loss, the artmaking itself brought me a lot of excitement and joy.
Grief is an especially personal subject, especially when it’s about a loved one. How often while writing Something, Not Nothing did you stop yourself, thinking you were getting too personal?
There were places that I didn’t go in these comics, but not necessarily because they’re “too personal.” For the most part, I didn’t talk about Donimo’s illness and disability, or about our relationship. Years ago, I did start a series of comics called “Chronics” that were about what it was like to live with someone in chronic severe pain. I even thought, briefly, about including those comics in this collection. But it became clear to me that I wanted and needed this collection of comics to document my own experience — not hers, not ours as a couple.
I’ve definitely gotten the impression that some readers are surprised by how much I share about my emotional journey. For me, it seems normal to be this frank. What I try not to do is to be self-indulgent or careless about what I share. Like there are lots of pieces of writing and drawing that no one will ever see, because they are very raw things that are made simply so that I can vent my emotions. In my mind, the distinction between material for my diary and material for sharing is a very clear one.
One of the personal details you didn’t shy away from including was that, as you said earlier, Donimo had “…a medically assisted death.” And you not only didn’t shy away from that detail, it’s also mention right on the back of the book. This procedure is controversial, so I’m wondering if you ever considered not including it in Something, Not Nothing, or not being that bold with it?
That’s an interesting question. I never thought about whether or not to include that information, and it never occurred to me that it wouldn’t be on the back cover blurb (though to be clear, the publisher wrote that blurb, not me).
Medical assistance in dying (MAiD) is central to this whole story — Donimo’s fear that she wouldn’t be able to have it, the whole weird / awful / beautiful / horrifying experience of knowing exactly when someone is going to die and watching it happen — and not only watching, but actually helping to make it happen and helping her prepare. In Canada, assisted dying had been legal for four years before Donimo’s death. She didn’t want to have to die, there were so many things that she loved in this world, so many things she wanted to do. But given her suffering and the complete lack of options, she was crystal clear that she wanted an assisted death. So it didn’t feel controversial in that way.
What I will say is that I have complicated feelings about MAiD. Bottom line: I think anyone who wants an assisted death should be able to have one. And at the same time, we live in a country where people can’t get what they need to live — like people with disabilities who rely on government “support” that keeps them below the poverty line. People like Donimo, who have chronic illnesses that don’t respond to treatment, are often treated with open contempt, disbelief, and hostility by the healthcare system. Honestly, some of the most respectful, compassionate and effective care she got from doctors was after she decided to have MAiD. Even those of us who support access to MAiD cannot deny that it’s paid for by a government that is unwilling to provide adequate support for people to live. So yeah, complicated feelings, but I would never hide or minimize the centrality of MAiD to this story.
You previously wrote a graphic novel that also dealt with loss: Tangles: A Story About Alzheimer’s, My Mother, And Me. Did you learn anything writing Tangles that made writing Something, Not Nothing easier? Or made Something better?
I’ve learned so much since making Tangles, and I do think it means that Something, Not Nothing is a better book. I have a lot of love for Tangles, but it was my first book and in so many ways I didn’t know what I was doing! I am a more skilled and confident artist now, more willing to experiment and flow — and at the same time, more willing to revise and revise something until it feels right. I’ve learned that there are certain materials I really like using, and I’m better able to make them do what I want them to do.
So I guess it’s not really things that I learned from making Tangles, but rather things I’ve learned since.
In terms of content, this book feels very different. They’re both about grief and loss, of course. But I made Tangles after the events of the story were over, and I was looking back on them and trying to create a clear narrative structure. Something, Not Nothing, for the most part, is a documentation of my experience as it’s happening.
The art in Something, Not Nothing is a mix of styles, and is not as rigidly or obviously structured as a lot of graphic novels or comic books. Was this a conscious decision on your part or just how it came out of you? And why was this the best approach for what you were trying to convey?
For almost all of the comics in Something Not Nothing, I didn’t make any sketches or do any planning at all. I just put pen and paint and colored pencil on the page and went with what happened. Looking back on it, I was in kind of an altered state: horribly sad, of course, and disoriented, as I said. Everything was intense. And my creative process felt dreamy and powerful. I went with whatever felt right.
For a while it was my deep black Pentel Pocket Brush Pen and a fine Micron Pigma, like in the first few pages. Then it was watercolor and colored pencil, sometimes 12 panels on a page, sometimes 16. There are a few pieces that are four panels of abstract shapes in colored pencil with a caption underneath. Each time I sat down I used the materials and composition that felt right. So inevitably that led to a variety of styles.
And when it came time to collect the comics, I decided not to try to shape them into a narrative or explain anything, beyond the preface and the notes at the back. I wanted the reader to read the comics as they were when I made them. It’s a documentation of my experience, as opposed to a story about that experience.
So, when you realized you were going to turn this into a book people could buy, did you look at anyone else’s graphic memoir to get an idea of what to do, or what not to do?
The biggest influences on my work are probably Anders Nilsen’s The End and the work of my comics bestie, Mita Mahato. The End has been one of my favorite books since it came out in 2005. Nilsen made it after his partner died, and as he documents his experience, his art and writing get weirder and weirder, more and more abstract. I didn’t consciously think about his influence on this project until I’d been working on it for a while, but as soon as I did, it seemed so obvious. I admire how raw and smart and powerful that book is, how widely he ranges in style.
Mita and I have shared our work with each other for about 12 years now. She makes comics from collage, cut paper, and drawing. They’re very different from my work. But I’m hugely influenced by the boldness of her work, how, over the years, she’s built this really unique and poetic style. She’s inspired me to be weirder, to be more comfortable with making work that’s more complicated, less easily legible, than I have in the past. Also, she reads my work with great care and attention, and gives me amazing ideas for refining it and pushing it further. I owe her a lot.
As we’ve been discussing, you wrote and drew Something, Not Nothing as a way of dealing with your grief. If you don’t mind me asking: Did it help?
I honestly don’t know if it helped me deal with my grief. I was lucky to be able to do that with therapy and endlessly compassionate friends and exercise and medication and time off work. But making the work did help me understand my experience after Donimo’s death, both the grief and the joy.
We talked a little about Tangles earlier. That book is being adapted into an animated movie. Is there anything you can tell us about it?
Sure! The film is based on Tangles, but is different in lots of ways. Some parts have been fictionalized, including some events and characters that didn’t exist in real life. The animation is not based on my artwork at all, and I love it — everything I’ve seen so far is incredibly beautiful.
I co-wrote the script with Leah Nelson, who’s directing the film, and screenwriter Trev Renney. The film is now in production, and I think it should be out in 2026. We started writing the script in 2013, so it’s taken a while to get to this point. But so worth it!! Lauren and Seth Rogen and their production companies got involved with the project in 2017, and the other producers are Giant Ant, which is the animation studio where the film’s being made, Monarch Media, and Julia Louis-Dreyfus. Julia is playing my mom, Midge, which is mind-blowing. The rest of the cast includes Bryan Cranston, Abbi Jacobson, Beanie Feldstein, Samira Wiley, Seth Rogen, Wanda Sykes, Bowen Yang, Sarah Silverman and Pamela Adlon. It’s unreal.
So, do you think Something, Not Nothing could work as a movie as well?
Oh gosh, I have no idea. What I’ve learned from working on the Tangles film is that it’s a completely different creature from the book. So, if someone came along with a cool idea for transforming Something, Not Nothing into a film, I’d be super excited to hear about it. But I doubt I’d be the one to figure out how to do it. It’s been so much fun to see what other people have done with Tangles — how they’ve made the film into something new and special in its own right, way beyond anything I could have imagined on my own.
Finally, if someone enjoys Something, Not Nothing, they’ll probably go buy Tangles. But once they’ve read that, what graphic novel memoir of someone else’s would you suggest they check out?
I highly recommend The End, which I mentioned earlier. It’s sad and beautiful, and pushes the boundaries of what comics can do.
Another favorite book is The Best We Could Do by Thi Bui, which explores her parents’ lives in Vietnam, their family’s escape to the U.S., and how this all shaped the family dynamics. The story and artwork are wonderful, and I was so inspired and excited by the depth of what Bui conveys via shape, line, color, and composition.
