Eva May Hutchinson, about 5 years before my birth.
Which lessons from your mother serve a purpose when you’re writing?
I’ve been pondering this question lately, in honor of Mother’s Day. When I posed this question on Facebook, I got some wonderful responses. I’m reposting them here, with the writers’ permission, and added my answer at the bottom. I hope they’ll inspire you, and that you’ll also chime in!
Jeannine Atkins: Never mind the dirty floors. I bless her whenever I survey the kitchen and decide to write instead of scrub. And my sister feels the same.
Victoria Nimmo-Walters: Do it right or not at all. (I get to blame her for my strive toward perfectionism…)
Susan Taylor Brown: You can do better than that.
Kim Baccellia: Don’t let others comments get to you.
Wendy Lynn Decker: Never give up.
Gail Goetz: Why ruin a good story with the truth? Ordinary wasn’t in my mother’s vocabulary.
Erin Blakemore: Stop talking, start working! 😀
Sheryll Suva Fong: Because I said so.
I might answer differently tomorrow (next week, next year…), but for today at least, I’ll go with, “Look!”
My mother was blind to certain circumstances, inscrutable in others. But when it came to Mother Nature, she had a very keen eye. “Look,” she’d say, and in her cornflower blue eyes, I’d see the shimmery reflection of the stars. “Look,” she’d say, and it was only then that I noticed the tiny cluster of purple verbena against a vast expanse of sand. She taught me to pay attention to the smallest details, and to recognize their magic. She filled my soul with a sense of wonder, opened my eyes (and heart) to things I might otherwise have missed. And in my own writing, I bear witness to what I’ve seen.