Reading, writing, and Mother’s Day

Two weeks ago, my first piece of fiction appeared in Fish Nets: The Second Guppy Anthology. It’s a 4,000-word milestone, a step toward what I hope will be bigger things in the future.

After the book came out, my mom said some nice things about me and my story to her Facebook friends, including this: “I’m…so proud of your ability to write.”

I hope she knows—but maybe she doesn’t, so I’m telling her now—that whatever ability I have to write is a direct result of my bookish upbringing. My parents always encouraged me to read. I don’t recall there being limits. Not the summer I read every book in the science fiction section of the public library. Not later, when I became obsessed with Gothic romances. Not even when I found the Playboy joke book hidden in a closet.

Our house was overflowing with books. I think it’s safe to say my mom loves reading almost as much as I do. So I’m glad she’s proud of my ability to write, and I hope she’s proud of the vital role she and my dad played in making me a reader and writer.

Thanks, mom, and happy Mother’s Day.