When I look into the mirror, I see my father’s nose and when I look down at my keyboard I see my mother’s hands. I am messy like my Aunt, my mother’s sister. My daughter is neat as a pin like her Aunt, my sister. I can get myself anywhere with least amount of directions like my grandfather and my sister can’t drive her way out of paper bag without getting lost like my father.
Inherited gifts? If so, where did I get my love of writing?
Thanks to my Aunt’s love of genealogy (yes, the messy one) I found out that Louisa May Alcott and Harriet Beecher Stowe are distant members of my family tree on my mother’s side. Hmmm, perhaps my love of storytelling came from them. I had always figured it was this same Aunt who handed down, not only her untidy genes, but also her ability to be creative to me. Be it drawing, painting, crafts, poetry, crocheting, cross-stitch…if it one of the ‘arts’ she could do it and so can I (with a lot of practice, of course!). I also figured my knack of putting pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard) came from my grandfather (my mom’s father). He worked at the local newspaper for years and could type close to sixty words per minute, in the old “hunt-and-peck” method (with two index fingers only), and that was on a pre World War II typewriter.
It wasn’t until I was in high school that I found out my gift came from someone a little closer to me. While looking through some old boxes, I found a pressboard folder, with a rusty two-prong fastener, that held fifty or so yellowed, dog-eared, double-spaced typed pages. Even more surprising was the name, faded to a dull gray, on the cover. My mother! And the last name was her maiden name so I knew this was something pre-1962.
I remember reading the story about a group of young girls in their early 20’s and the boys in their lives. I immediately recognized my mother in one of the fictional girls and other life long friends of her that I grew up with (who are like family), could be found in several of the other characters. I was so tickled with my discovery and so disappointed to find it unfinished! Hey, my mom did something else beside clean the house, work full time, clean the house, fix dinner, clean the house, raise a family, clean the…well, you get the idea.
It was many years later when I started to think that my scribbling might actually be something I’d want to take a little more seriously. While home on a visit, I snuck that aged, unfinished manuscript into a suitcase and took it home with me. I told her what I had done when I finally finished my own story. I said I wanted it for inspiration and as a reminder that while, it was up to me to make my dreams come true, it was from her I received this very special gift.
I can’t wait to return the favor and place my first book in her hands.
Christyne
christynebutler.com
Lovely, Christyne!
I, too, got my gift of writing from my mother. She loved romance novels and introduced me to my first Harlequin.
She started a book many years ago, but never finished it. To this day I try to encourage her to write. She formed a plot in her head for a sequel to one of my stories, but, to this day has yet to write a word.
Oh well. All I an do is thanks her for this wonderful gift. I am doubly blessed to have passed down my gift to my own daughter (she’s 14) and to date she has written 5 full length novels.
~Christina
Christyne, I was on the verge of telling you that I had no idea where my love for writing comes from, when I remembered the long family vacations we used to take. Back in the days before DVD players in every car, before seat belt laws, even, my family would load up every 2 years and go to El Paso, Texas. On the way, mom would entertain us with stories about how the Loosahatchie River got its name, or how an indian brave was lost during some great upheaval and to this day we still watch for “falling rocks” as we travel through mountain passes, in hopes that he will be reunited with his family.
There were so many others. Anything she saw, she could make up a story to go with it. It’s the best gift she could ever give me.
trish
What a neat subject. I never thought about writing being an “inherited” gift. But I have stories my grandfather wrote years and years ago. Some even have “rejection” notes from magazines handwritten on the title page. And yes, they were cranked out on an old manual typewriter.
Those stories—snippets of my grandfather’s life—are one of my most treasured possessions.
Tina
Ah, Christyne, beautifully said! My Mum has a way with words, and my father a love of adventure… maybe that’s the mix for me!
What a great topic! Both sides of my family have creative, artistic people. For years, I’ve tried get my mother to write – she has such a gift with words. Maybe now that she’s retired. Regardless, I’m grateful for her gift!
Christyne, that’s a beautiful post.
And what a treasure you found of your mother’s!
Can’t say I know of anyone on either side of my family with a love for the written word. So either they kept it to themselves, or there’s a cabbage leaf somewhere with my name on it…
~Rane (Dream)
My mother loved to read and she passed that on. But it was my grandfather who loved to write.
Christyne
Great topic. I was always jealous that my sister got the talent for music. She sings, she plays instruments, she got a music scholarship. We’d visit relatives in Pennsylvania (dad’s side) where my cousin Mike was in a band, and my cousin Tim would sing, changing the words to songs on a whim.
But I found my niche in writing and always wondered WHERE that creative gene came from. Still don’t know exactly, however, I have younger cousins (on my mother’s side) now in college who are studying for various writing interests, whether poetry or journalism, the writing bug has got them, too.
Whether its the written word, or by song, I know I come from a very creative family tree, and I am very thankful.
Gina
Thanks for stopping by ladies and sharing your stories!