photo copyright Melanie Greenwood
In my dream I am alone in a garden labyrinth. “If I could give you a gift today,” I whisper, “I would finish those drafts I let you read, get my stories out into the world.” I take a shaky breath. “But I’m scared. My books–and my life–are such a mess.”
In her later years she delighted in bawdy language. I hear faint snickering, then her voice from a distance, quoting the handwritten note to herself I found on her writing desk. “This story is not going to unfuck itself!”
“Too true.” I give up and laugh. “Happy birthday, Mama.”
This lovely photo of a garden arrived just in time for February 4th, which was my mother’s birthday…and the first thing I thought of was how much she enjoyed visiting the local botanic garden. I admit the memories made me sad, since she’s been gone almost three years now. I envisioned myself there again with her, was probably about to write something maudlin–and then suddenly I got a dose of motherly advice. She was not one to put up with weepy self-pity. 🙂
Though she had been a rather formal person most of her life, in her last years my mother developed a love of vulgar language because she found it so “juicy and expressive.” She adored the author Chuck Wendig, and because she was a writer herself she read his blog every day, relishing his writing advice. After her death I found a yellow post-it note, written in her tidiest printing, on her desk. It says simply: “This story is not going to unfuck itself!” which is a quote from Chuck’s blog. I keep that post-it in a silver frame now, and every time I see it, I can hear her laughing at me…gently reminding me (the way some mothers do, no matter what) to get off my ass and get to work.
How funny. It’s her birthday, but I’m the one who got a gift. 😉
Find more Friday Fictioneers flash fiction for this week here.
I know that kind of mother 🙂 Good to see that she inspires you even now.
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I was very lucky to have her. 🙂
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I’ve a fairly high tolerance for bawdy language – and that is a quote to end all quotes about the story. Still grinning.
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She loved that quote. 😀 She would repeat it to me when I whined about my writing not going well. I always laughed in spite of myself.
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Dear Patricia,
What a delightful tribute to your mother. From your descriptions I’m sure she’s someone I’d like to have known. Good job.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Thank you.
She was one of the bravest–and funniest–people I ever knew. I was truly blessed to have her as a mother, and as a friend. 🙂
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This is beautiful! And thanks for sharing your memories of your mother. She sounds like she was an incredible woman 🙂
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Thank you. 🙂 She was incredible–able to look on the bright side no matter how hard life got, always making people laugh. She was still telling jokes during her last few good days…some of them quite naughty. 😉
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Great piece of philosophy. Thank you mum and Chuck Wendig for giving it to us. And you. of course.
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My mother would be so happy to know her favorite quote is still inspiring other writers. 🙂
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You’ll give her that gift. It’ll just take a while longer than you planned. Messes don’t last forever even if it feels like they do. 🙂
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She left the job of reminding me about that in capable hands. Thanks! 🙂
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What a lovely tribute, I enjoyed your story and your follow-up.
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Thank you. The perfect photo showed up exactly on her birthday. 🙂
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I wish I could have met your mother, she sounds my kind of woman. Well done with your tribute to her, it’s lovely.
Dee
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Thank you. 🙂 I wish she had been here to share the story herself, but in a way, I do feel she never left–she will always be here in my heart.
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What a lovely story – the ‘fiction’ one and the real one, actually, so I suppose I mean what lovely stories. Profanity is so easily overused but there are times and placed where it really can be the answer. I suspect your Mum found one of those in this post-it. And it sounds like good advice to most of us in the writing game!
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Thank you. 🙂 My mother had great timing with her “juicier” remarks, always using them to lighten a mood, not to offend or hurt. She didn’t think anyone should take themselves too seriously.
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She sounds wonderful. Your story written for her is very sweet.
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Thank you. 🙂 She was wonderful–and she really did say things like this when I was feeling sorry for myself. When I had “wasted” huge amounts of time on a draft of a story and ended up hating every word, she’d tell me to take a deep breath, get a big mug of coffee, and go start fixing it.
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That is sweet. I’m glad you have such wonderful memories of her. I feel she is a significant source behind your writing and determination.
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Your mother and my mother could have been twins separated at birth. Lovely, heartfelt story that’s even better because of her last line.
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Moms like ours are totally priceless–it’s so good to be reminded to chill out, laugh at your own melodrama and then get to work. 🙂 I’m glad you enjoyed the story. Thank you.
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A wonderful, touching tribute to your mother. What great advice she left you, and what a wonderful way to keep it in mind. Beautifully told.
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Thank you. 🙂 That is great advice, and it applies so well to more than just writing. 😀
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Oh Patricia, What an absolutely beautiful tribute to your mother! You loved her so and I’m sure she loved you. I like her feisty attitude toward life! Lucky you! I miss my mother so very much too (she died in 1990). I think she is still encouraging you with her words of wisdom and you are wise to listen! Bless you! Nan 🙂
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Thank you for your kind words, Nan. 🙂 My mom was feisty, and fought hard to keep a good attitude to the end (she died after a very long illness). She would not have approved of the kind of tribute this week’s prompt brought to my mind at first glance, but her memory–and her post-it note–inspired me to go in another direction.
I’m sorry for the loss of your mother. That’s a pain which never truly goes away.
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This is so wonderful, the writing and the back-story. 🙂
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Thank you! 🙂 It’s a connection to my mom which always makes me smile, that little post-it. I can still hear her saying it at the breakfast table, looking at me over her coffee mug like “so…go get to work.”
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This is a lovely tribute to your mother. The quote is great – and one I need to remember. Procrastination is always a problem… 🙂
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Thank you. 🙂 My mom loved to repeat that quote from Chuck Wendig to me–it was her shorthand for a whole laundry list of reasons why I ought to stop complaining and start editing. It’s still a good weapon against procrastination. Oh my gosh, procrastination…the very state where I live…until my mom and Chuck Wendig show up, that is! 😀
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I love that quote and what a great inspiration to do something … anything to get unfucked.
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What a lovely story, and a wonderful tribute to your mother.
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Poignant, beautiful and meaningful. Thank you for sharing your mother. Swearing is therapy. I swear like a sailor in the house – whole streams until my breath and frustration run out. Then I can calmly and logically deal with the situation. 🙂
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