Last October, during a monthlong residency at Blue Mountain Center, I finally read all of the writings my mother left to me when she passed in June. I had tried to read them at home—an unfinished memoir, countless journals, most of them also unfinished. It was too overwhelming. I needed to be cradled by the Adirondack Mountains and that magical place that is BMC, its giant pines and spruces, the bear that visited me twice, the gray owl, the miles and miles of paths in old growth forests.
It was there that I realized I was writing a completely different book than I thought, one that includes my mother’s stories in her words. I’ve written so many of these memories before, they’re so vivid that I can smell and taste their salt, but now I have a different lens.
The first excerpt is being published in the coming weeks, and I am already feeling the spectrum of emotion, from joy to vulnerability hangover to a sadness that feels like a low hum (this, I know, isn’t all mine).
I never imagined you could have a relationship with someone after their death. That’s what you left me. Not just stories, but answers. A way for us to talk to each other like we couldn’t when you were alive. Now we can have those long overdue conversations on the page. ~ Epistle for Edenia by Vanessa Mártir
I’ll share more soon. In the meantime, this collage is a pic of my mother at 15, just before she came to this country, and of course, the other one is me. For so much of my life I contorted myself to not be like her, but it is undeniable, I have my mother’s face… I am her daughter, through and through.
The Prompt
What is your relationship like with your mother?
How was it when you were a child? What scenes flash through your mind when you think of this time?
How is your relationship with your mother now? Can you show this with scenes?
What was your mother’s life like before she had you, before she was a mother? How did this shape her into the mother she was to you? To your siblings?
How has this relationship shaped your life, your relationships?
Do you have a mother wound/wounds that you want to start digging into and/or writing about? (Find more info on the mother wound here.)
The Pearl
I had a high school student years ago who was a natural talent. He wrote poetry with ease, metaphors that stunned, lines that made me say oof and snap my fingers. He was just that good. The problem is that he thought the work stopped there. He didn’t think he ever had to revise. He thought everything he did was gold, perfect, didn’t need anything more. And there was no one telling him the contrary, except me.
What happened to this young man? No se. What I can tell you is that I’ve never seen his poetry out in the world. I know because I’ve searched. I hoped. I still hope.
James Baldwin once said: “Talent is insignificant. I know a lot of talented ruins. Beyond talent lie all the usual words: discipline, love, luck, but, most of all, endurance.”
What makes a writer is staying power. So keep writing. Keep sharing. When you think you’ve gone deep, go deeper. Check your ego and revise. Endure. Be relentless. Get out of your own damn way.
And please do invite me to your book release. Send me information and links to your published work in online magazines and in print. I want to applaud you as you shine. I need you to know: I BELIEVE IN YOU!
Los quiero mucho,
Vanessa
Thank you. This is so helpful and reassuring. I've been working so hard on a book based on these prompts, it seems. For the last three years. Working on revisions to my first draft now. I sometimes wonder if this is a valid basis for a novel or life's work, but of course it is. I'm not the only one who this will help, and I'm not the only one who will understand and learn from it. I think there's something particular about being the daughter of a mother from a Spanish-colonized country, too, which makes it even more important to both me and my someday audience.
Thanks for your prompts Vanessa. I have been lucky enough to publish some poetry and flash recently; you can see them at my website, https://www.mariecloutier.com/publications.