With Mother’s Day approaching, we spotlight our mothers whether they are still living or have passed on, and remember fondly how these women have impacted our lives. My mother who was a unique yet troubled woman, taught me life lessons I will never forget. I, being a mother myself, can only hope that I’ve been able to fool my grown children into thinking I’ve passed on some of my positive qualities. (Fingers crossed)
But in my humble opinion, I honestly think most women represent motherhood. It doesn’t matter whether they’ve given birth or adopted a child or not.
One definition of motherhood is “the quality or the spirit of a mother.” Well, I firmly believe that we, as strong women, all have that spirit within us. I have to brag on my daughter here. She has not birthed an offspring so to speak, but she exceptionally defines the term motherhood. She is a teacher, which by the way, I feel is the hardest job on the planet. She not only educates kids (in her case, teenagers), but nurtures them, gives them guidance, and sets a positive example. She mothers her students along with her nieces and nephews and her friends’ children. And, of course, she views her much-loved pets as her babies. I count her among the strong women I’ve known throughout my life who possess the innate virtues of motherhood.
While writing notes on this subject, I recalled a special woman from my childhood named Margie who was born in the Bahamas and had the most melodious British accent. She helped my mother by doing some light housecleaning but her first priority was to take care of me–apparently, at a young age, I was a handful. A strong, proud woman, she came from a difficult background and lost her husband in her early twenties. Margie had no children of her own, but she sure knew how to take care of me. I loved this woman who had a gentle nature but took no nonsense from a feisty five-year old. She always smelled of lilacs, and her eyes twinkled when she smiled. “Now, little one,” she’d say, “go to sleep so the angels can watch over you.” I cried buckets of tears when my family moved away from Miami and I had to leave my second mother behind.
Don’t you know scads of women who fit this bill? So raise your glass to all strong women! Happy Mother’s Day!
Now, let me welcome my guest blogger, ERIN BARTELS. Erin is a copywriter and freelance editor by day and a novelist by night. Her first novel, The Bone Garden, is currently on submission and her second, I Hold the Wind, was a finalist in the 2015 Rising Star Contest from the Women’s Fiction Writers Association. Her short story “This Elegant Ruin” was a finalist in The Saturday Evening Post 2014 Great American Fiction Contest. She is also the features editor for and a regular contributor to WFWA’s quarterly newsletter, Write On.
Cherishing the Season You’re In
Midwesterners spend a lot of time pining. During the long, cold, gray winter, we ache for warm, colorful spring. During the hot and humid summers, we long for crisp fall. Our favorite seasons are the transitional ones, the fleeting ones, the ones in which the landscape seems to change daily—wave after wave of flowers bloom, tree after tree turns fiery orange, red, or yellow and sends its leaves raining gently down. Things are moving, always moving.
When we focus on the season to come rather than the season we’re in, we run the very real risk of constant discontent. Midwesterners are experts at discontent. I’ve never known anyone to complain about the weather more than my fellow Michiganders. It’s too hot, too cold, too rainy, too cloudy, too snowy, too humid. And yet, every season is beautiful in its own way and its own time.
In the same way, every season in a writer’s career has the potential to be beautiful.
When we are just starting out, just testing the waters of this magnificent, crazy idea of ours—Maybe I could be a writer!—every dream is ours. We’re blissfully ignorant of the work that will be involved, the years of toil and rejection, toil and rejection. The future is wide open. And though we may feel a little off-balance and unprepared, our potential is, at this moment, endless. Cherish that.
When we’ve been at it for a while, maybe on our second or third manuscript, finding our tribe, querying agents, entering contests, we have the benefit of some experience, some hard-won wisdom, some newly thickened skin. We can reach back and help those a few steps behind. We can look up and feel inspired by those a few steps ahead. We’re better writers than we were at first, even if we’re still finding our way. Cherish that.
When we’ve finally gotten past the first round of gatekeepers and have an agent, someone working on our behalf to get our stories to the right editor at the right publishing house, a part of us can relax. We have an advocate. Someone sees something in us, in our work, that is worth fighting for. Cherish that.
When we get the news—Someone wants to publish my book, and they’re going to PAY me for it!—and that first flush of excitement is swiftly replaced with a rush of anxiety—What if no one buys it? What if I’m awkward in interviews? What if no one shows up to my book-signing?—we can calm ourselves with the knowledge that we have a community of writers who are behind us 100% and will answer our questions and quell our fears. They’ll help us get through this. Cherish that.
We’re all eager to move our writing careers forward. But don’t forget to love the season you’re in right now. Because it will soon pass away . . . and you may find yourself missing it when it’s gone.
You can find Erin at the following:
Thank you all for reading my blog. I’ll see you at the end of May.