Was she?
I was sharing some fabulous photos of my mother, who passed away in 2013, when a childhood friend asked me if she was supportive of my writing.
My first impulse was yes. Then I had to rethink the question. Was she really? It didn’t always seem so.
It’s true my mother more than tolerated my creative pursuits. She supplied me with pencils, paints, scissors, glue, and giant pads of paper. She colored with me. She drew pictures with me. She read to me. She taught me to sew and embroider, and let me cut up my clothes to redesign them. She let me paint on my bedroom walls. She let me whittle wood to make jewelry.
As a girl, I remember laying on my back in the middle of the living room, staring up at the stucco ceiling for hours. My mother might have peeked in to see what I was up to, but she left me alone. She was probably just happy I was quiet — I’m sure she had no idea I was making up stories about the characters I saw in the swirls of plaster, or imagining the house as upside down and filled with water and I was swimming through it.
Discouragement
No surprise that I showed an aptitude for art and writing in school. I told her I wanted to be a journalist, but that was only because journalists write, and that’s what I wanted to do. She said, “Oh, no, you can’t do that. That’s too hard.”
I understand now she was trying to protect me from what she saw as the School of Hard Knocks, but, back then, I was devastated. Didn’t she think I was smart enough? What was she trying to say? Should I do something easy?
I pursued art instead of writing, but my self-confidence floundered for many years.
My return to writing
Eventually I found my way back to writing. I went to conferences and poetry retreats and weekly workshops. My poetry began getting published. I won a chapbook award. I placed in contests. I felt successful. I was having a great time. My mom smiled and said “That’s wonderful,” but it wasn’t until I was paid for teaching a workshop that she said, “Now it means something.”
Was she saying my writing didn’t mean anything before then? I had to laugh. It was okay. I knew what it meant to me.
School of hard knocks
When I switched from writing poetry to fiction, I told my mother about the stories I was working on, and she listened with great interest. She was excited for me when I entered a low residency program at the University of Southern Maine to earn a Masters of Fine Art in Fiction. But then I had a novel to sell. Every writer knows this is the official School of Hard Knocks. Even Mom knew getting it published would be hard work. I shared my ups and downs with her, and she empathized. Yet, several times she said to me, “Why don’t you write a children’s book? You’d be good at that.”
Didn’t she think I was good at what I was doing? Did she think getting a children’s book published would be easier?
I just smiled and said “Maybe I will.” She was only trying to help me the best way she knew how.
The sad thing is my first novel will be published this summer, and she’s gone.
She fostered creativity
Looking back, I’d have to say yes, my mother was supportive. She never stopped me from creating, painting, or drawing. She allowed me my flights of fancy. She let me be a dreamer. In fact, when I got a D in chemistry, she said, “That’s okay. You got an A in English and art. You aren’t going to be a chemist.”
My mother let me be me. She was absolutely supportive.
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Thank you for visiting.
Linda K. Sienkiewicz is a writer, poet, and artist:
Multi-finalist award winning novel In the Context of Love
Picture book Gordy and the Ghost Crab
Latest poetry chapbook: Sleepwalker
Connect with Linda: LinkTree
This was a pleasure to read. I applaud your mother for being so supportive. Supplying you with all those tools to
experiment with and to tap into your creativity is wonderful. And I love that she allowed you to cut up your clothes and redesign them. She gave you space, and that shows respect. Her smile is so beautiful and welcoming, another kind of support. You are a lucky girl to be made of all that, and it shows.
Thank you, Diane, for your kind words.
As an adult, your perspective changes, don’t you think? We’re (hopefully) able to appreciate the positive things our folks did for us, and understand they weren’t perfect.
I’m glad you enjoyed it.
I wrote non-stop when I was a young teenager. I wrote about complicated relationships when I hadn’t lived long enough to experience a complicated relationship. I wrote torchy poetry. I wrote torchy short stories. My mom listened to me read every single one to her. She listened to my writings like they were masterpieces of literature. I will always love my mom for loving my love of writing. Even if it was pretty torchy stuff. Looking back, I believe she was amused at my torchy-inclinations. I had no idea what I was talking about, and she knew it. I’ll never forget my mom and dad accompanying me to a ceremony where I had received an honorary mention for a poem. The winning poem had been written by a boy. I’ll never forget it. “Ode to a Fallen Leaf.” My mom said to me, “Well, now that’s just plain stupid, Linda. Your poem was way better than that silly poem about a leaf. Who cares about a leaf anyways!” What’s funny now is that I can’t remember my poem at all.
Torchy poetry. Torchy stories. What a great story about your mom’s reaction to the honorary mention. Priceless, as they say.
I think it is difficult as a parent when our children chose a career that we know has a challenging road attached to it. Although we recognise their passion & ability, we also understand the reality of the cost of day to life. We want our children to be secure in their work, thus providing them with the resources to support themselves & not worry about how they will make ends meet. A delicate balance for sure!
I have no doubt your mom was incredibly proud of every piece of talent that makes you who you are.
It’s SO difficult as a parent, worrying that your adult children will have a hard time financially, especially in today’s job market. I have a daughter with a degree in social services and a son with a Masters degree who’s a musician and artist. Both are incredibly talented. It’s a tough world!
What a lovely piece! I hope my kids remember me in that kind way. I like to support my kids by saying, “If you’re happy, go for it!” But do it before you have kids. And that may not even be fair.
As mothers we know what a fine line we walk daily, wanting to be supportive, protective, loving, made proud. As daughters, we want unconditional love and endless support. It gets all tangled up sometimes, becoming as messy as my mother’s thread box always was. Good on you for seeing through clear lenses and sorting it all out with love and honesty. Cannot WAIT to read the book.
It is a fine line, and sometimes what we think is supportive is actually undermining! Thanks, Jeanne, for your comment, encouragement and support! xoxo