Is is for Inheriting the Writing Gene
My mom started writing when she was thirty-six years old, working in an office full of men. One day, when a woman joined the office, they got to talking about writing. My mom revealed that writing a book was her dream, and this woman encouraged her to write. Even if she just wrote for herself. So my mom did. The book she started then is still unfinished now because after she married she put her writing on hold to be a mom.
Many years later, when I was a child, she remembered her dream and dived into writing children’s stories inspired by my brother, a boy Cabbage Patch doll, and pea soup. She wrote these stories for me and my siblings. She even illustrated, laminated, and bound them. Saying that my siblings and I loved them is an understatement. We cherished these stories and wanted her to write more. And she did.
|Meet the original Sammy|
At that time she was a media assistant at my elementary school and quickly became famous on our campus for her stories that she would read to the classes visiting the library. I remember the day when it was my classes turn. I was bubbling with excitement when I sat down on the story rug with my friends and looked up at my mom as she sat in a rocker. She had Sammy, the Cabbage Patch doll, with her and while she read her legendary story (legendary to my family) one of my fellow classmates got to play with Sammy and mimic what she read. Every child in my class was laughing and looked at my mom with awe.
For at least a day I was popular among my peers. And seeing how much my friends enjoyed the stories I grew up hearing filled me with pride for my mom. It was then I realized I wanted to be a writer just like her.
|My mom's illustration of Gregory and his teddy bear, Sammy.|
When I was in fourth grade, my mom visited for career day. She read the same story with Sammy to my class and one other class that joined mine. I was nervous to share my mom with my fourth grade class, but I soon found I didn’t have to be, because once again she was a hit! The same boy who played with Sammy all those years ago had the honor of playing with him again. The highlight was when Sammy’s pants fell down. Everyone howled with laughter.
On the bus at the end of the day, a boy I despised (because he picked on me all the time) sat down in the chair beside me. I braced myself for whatever nasty remark he had to say.
“That was your mom?”
“Yes,” I snapped.
I smiled. Yes, I thought, my mom IS cool. She’s a writer!
Today she has published several flash fiction stories, and plans to publish her children’s stories as well as many novels (romances and westerns). When she does, I will proudly say, “Yes, Elaine Kaye is my mom! I got the writing gene from her.” J
**To support my mom, like her brand new Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/ElaineKayeAuthor
Thank you for reading my mom’s story!
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