The Beginning

The idea for this project is to produce a novel. It is going to be set up as the preface when it is finished. I have a lot to ad to this piece before I call it a preface, feedback is welcomed

I always thought my mother was the strongest person I know. From the time I can remember, the age of three of four.  My father, very abusive mentally and physically, she always held it together. The divorce was hard on both of us. It wasn’t until I was older that I began noticing her wear thin; her insecurities show through her hard exterior. As a teenager I began understanding more why this was, today it is clear. 

 “I swear,” I told her. “Your life needs to be told through a book. These stories bring tears to my eyes.” She nodded looking down at her hands. “I know,” she sighs. “Living through the seventies with a heroin addict mother... Well, I survived.” That is what was so amazing to me; against all odds, she survived. “I’m not kidding mom, let’s do this. Let’s write a book together.”

            She stared at me, thinking hard about my proposal, playing with the idea in her head; would reliving all of this emotion hurt her? Would it be therapeutic? I was motivated, eager to begin but I knew I had to be sensitive.  “How do you suppose we do this?” She asked. I had it all figured out. I didn’t want to exploit my mother’s pain, but the writer in me was screaming that this was great fiction.

“Start from the beginning, from your first memory. Give me as much detail as you can. I’ll jot down notes.  We don’t have to stick to exact facts. Just let me in your head, let me use your story to develop something. I’ll open a bottle of wine to help you relax.” “It’s going to take a lot more than a bottle of wine to help me relax! Are you sure you’re prepared to hear everything?” 

I thought about this, I hadn’t yet asked myself that question. Was I ready to hear some awful stories about my own mother? Could I handle it? I knew it would be hard for her to relive some of these times, but how would it affect me? “These are things that have to be done in order to write something worth reading, the more emotion I provoke in my work, the greater the story will be.”

“Why not,” she said. “Let’s do it. I always knew I should write a book.” I was so excited I had her approval. The motivation was overwhelming, I wanted to do this. All I could think about was how this could be my first great piece. I grabbed a notepad and a pencil then I headed to toward the kitchen for glasses of wine. I handed a glass to my mother. “Are you ready?” “As ready as I’ll ever be.” She took a drink, leaving a stain of burgundy colored lipstick on the edge, and sighed. “As far as I can remember,” she began. “It all started…”

Reviews

[Summer'sBreeze]

Wow, this sounds like it would turn out to be a great book!
Please send me a ReadRequest if you decide to continue!