Being that today is Mother’s Day, writing about my mother seems fitting. I’ve written about her before, and if you’ve read some of those posts, you already know that she was my everything. You also know that she wasn’t a writer herself, but she was a huge reader. Her favorite genre was mystery/romance, and despite suffering from macular degeneration, she read until she died. It goes without saying, that she made me the person I am today, and that includes the writerly parts of me. A teacher by vocation, she taught me many things about writing, not intentionally. My mother was polite, and quiet, never pushy. I learned about books by observing her.

First and foremost, she taught me to write to and for my readers, and not for anyone or anything else. Not sales. Not peer approval. It was seeing her passion for books that brought this lesson home for me. Now, when I’m writing a scene and I’m not sure what direction to take, I picture her propped up on her La-Z-Boy chair, turning pages, and I think what would my mother, Joan, find intriguing, and I grab my laptop type.

My mother also taught me that stories are precious.  Books took front and center in every room in her townhouse, even in her kitchen. She kept them on her butcherblock cabinet. She stored them in the bathroom beneath the vanity. Books filled her living room shelves beside photos of my sister and I and her grandchildren.  Their presence told me that they were necessary in the same way that carpets and windows are, and their prominence in her home reinforced the belief that stories should be beautiful and special, not phoned in or formulaic. Whenever I think I’m done editing, I ask myself, is my book worthy enough to sit on a grand piano? Do my words sparkle like a crystal vase?  If the answer is no, I do another editing pass.

Fun fact, my mother was a tea drinker. Through our deep conversations while sipping orange tea, she taught me to write about topics that matter. I believe that the best stories say important things, just like friends, sisters, and moms do. How do we create such a book? By always writing authentically and honestly. By making sure that our stories feel real and that they tell our characters’ truths.  Sure, entertaining, plotty stories are awesome, but reading about character’s that we can’t connect with is like having tea alone… dull.

Last but not least, I want to talk about how writing can be difficult and often painful, and how expecting setbacks and adversity is part of the writing journey. My mother had severe arthritis and struggled to walk. But she persevered regardless. She cared for her grandchildren, gardened, and volunteered at a local elementary school until she was eighty-nine. I’m not saying that she never complained, didn’t struggle, or never fell. What I am saying is that she followed her passions, took things day by day and powered through. Writing a novel is kind of like living with severe arthritis. You have good, bad days, and setbacks. But you keep writing because that’s the only way that important stories get told.

Happy Mother’s Day!

Thanks for reading thoughts about my mother.

What writing lessons have you learned from your mother?