Mother reading to her childI am a momma’s boy. I’m proud of it and tell everyone who asks. Honestly, I’m not sure why that’s considered an insult. When it comes to my mother, I would not be a writer if it was not for her.

For the past few weeks, my wife and I have been talking about things from our childhood that have made us who we are today. The books we’ve read that changed our outlook on life and even our tastes.

I consider myself a writer, that’s what I am even though it’s not my primary job. I would not be that if it was not for my mom taking the time to inspire that for me.

I believe I was twelve for thirteen when I marched up to my mom who was doing the laundry at the time and told her, with no uncertainty, I was going to be a writer. She paused for only a moment before going over to the closet and pulling down a gray typewriter in a dark gray case. She handed it to me and told me “You’re going to need this.”

I typed out my very first story, on one single page of a red paper entitled (creatively) “The Museum Mystery” with a detective named John Smith. From then, I wrote story after story, and the worlds exploded in my brain.

The fact that I even have books independently published and a few short stories released in magazines is because of her kindness and time to look over my work, critique, and provide me with feedback.

To this day my mom is still vital to my writing, and her opinion means the world to me. I don’t know where I would be without her.

What about you? How did you get started in writing? Was your mother an inspiration? Let me know in the comments or if you’re looking to keep up with all sorts of fresh discussion, you can do so with my monthly newsletter!

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