River of Words

My mother, with whom I had a rather distant relationship (we mostly didn't "get" each other), often encouraged me to write. She felt I had the knack. Her encouragement was surprising and notable, since she generally didn't focus on my strengths. I took in what she said. I wrote. Letters, journals, stories and, as soon as the internets were up and running, I started blogging. That was almost a decade ago. Now I write two blogs. So indeed whether or not what I write is GOOD, the truth is, I am a writer.

I was thinking about my mother yesterday after I signed up for National Novel Writing Month. It's a funny thing for me to do since I don't even read novels, well not often anyway. But I thought of her encouragement, signed up, had a laugh. It might turn out like my attempt to learn to play the bass; something I always thought I could do, but then when I tried, it turned out I was not built for the job. Oh well. In the case of NaNoWriMo, I might stall out and not write anything. But I'm going to give it a go anyway, why not?

Running a quick errand after work yesterday, I was thinking of my mother fondly. I came across a stack of books on the sidewalk (people do that here all the time: clear off a bookshelf, put what they no longer want to keep out for others to pick up). In the stack I saw "The Family of Man," an old book of photographs. This was one of my mother's very favorite books. Of course I picked it up!

In some way I feel my mother is rooting for me from the other side of the veil. Seeing that book yesterday of all days made me smile. Hey, thanks, Elizabeth! I'm going to spend a month writing with abandon, just as you suggested long ago. I'll let you know how it goes.

Wish me luck? Thanks to y'all as well. Is the pen mightier than the sword? We shall see!