I Wanna Be a Writer.

Of course it would help if I read more. I rarely read one book twice, it’s weird though–each I’ve read I remember (so far) forever.

I didn’t learn to read on my own until I wasa 9, maybe even closer to ten. Not for lack of love for literature. As far back as I can possibly go, at least beginning at age three my mom’s read to us. We’d come home from the library with more book than we could carry.

It was the Ralph Moody books. What fascinating recollections weaven together of the life of a hard working boy, you can just smell the leather saddles and taste the greesy breakfasts that the farm hands ate each morning at the crack of dawn.

More recently I read this red book with a rose on the front cover, from beginning to end it was about three inches thick. I con’t put it down! In fact I’d sneek in a bit of a read when no one was paying attention. That one was fiction, about an infant taken for a grocery cart while her mother looked the other way. Guess who never takes an eye off her grocery cart. I read that nine years ago!
Then there’s the Torey Hayden books. She has 18 books, and I’ve read them all. They’re best sellers in eight countries. I like to think that in another life I could be just like her, saving one crazy kid at a time.

And Jennifer Lauck’s book Still Waters, and the sequel. I had a bit of a wait on the second book through the library system, I could hardly handle the suspence.
The style she had captured me. Her life was full of abandonment, abuse and everything bad beyond my imagination but she took hold of her destiny and ultimately escaped. She prevailed.

What really held be, and kept me intrigued was her style.
Everything was written in the present tense. She broke writing rules with fragments and run ons. As these things that structure the literary world were rudimentary, limiting self expression in it’s raw reality. Unbelievable what this and the present tense writing made, against the usual retrospect style in autobiographies. Same thing with Torey Hayden. People love her work because they experience the hardship with her even if their lives are entirely different.

Jennifer Lauck had out another book of short stories following these two books. The style wasn’t againg fascinating. Still having read her Black Bird and Still Waters I devoured Show Me the Way. Although I was disappointed, and I wished I’d become a journalist. If it brought me to her excellence in writing. What does it take to write beautifully.
I mean the beautiful that pulls any reader in. Not the Christian motivational fiction that fill the bookshelves across America.

I wanna be a writer.

I want to remember everything and make something special through text. But what? I don’t have that magic, or the time to study it.
I have cloth diapers to rinse out in the toilet meals to make and laundry sorting to do. Some day I’ll sit down and write it, save it.

And be ever more thankful than I am now just to have been here and seen the beautiful in the ordinary of wiping runny noses and giving toddlers baths every night. Reading Tom and Pippo until my babies sleep, toilet training and spalshing in rain puddles. My name is Mommy. And there really is no better name than Mommy.

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