Dear Grandma, shush

Dear Grandma,

The other day I couldn’t write a thing.  Your voice in my head was telling me again that what I’m doing is a waste of time and isn’t proper writing.  So I’m addressing you with this post and I hope there’s some way you can read it from beyond.  I’m not sure what you believed proper writing to be.  I never saw you read a book, although you did read some autobiographies, or so I’m told.    Well, Grandma, when I was a kid, I hadn’t really been around long enough to write a substantial story of my life but I had so many ideas for stories that created lives.

You’ll be pleased to know, Grandma, that Paul has written a fantastic autobiography, but he’s had a full and action packed life that people will want to read about.  Me, I’ve never been very far or done very much really, and that seems more and more unlikely all the time.  I didn’t mean to get this illness in childhood that took away my physical energy.  I didn’t mean to start falling apart in my thirties.  I didn’t design my own genome and if I had, I would have still added the drive to write.

After talking to Paul though, Grandma, you need to know that the writing drive comes from your bloodline.  I’m taking my publishing name from your bloodline and very seriously considering making it legally my name.  So what I do is as much because of you as in spite of you.

Paul and I talked for nearly an hour and we have very similar things to say about our early lives.  the difference between he and I though, is that he went out and did what he wanted to do early on.  Me, I’ve waited until no-one can stop me and I’m only sorry that Mum isn’t here, because she would be so excited for me and for Paul.

So I’m ever so apologetically going to have to tell you to shush, Grandma.  I can do this and you never know – it could be the start of something good that you would never have let me achieve.  Getting a book out is an achievement in itself.  You should be pleased for me.  Your granddaughter knows what she wants to do, always has, and she’s doing it.  If we ever meet again, if there is an afterlife, I hope you can smile and introduce me as your granddaughter, the writer.  I’ll even give you signed ethereal copies if you think you can stand to read some fiction and be gracious about it.

Now please excuse me.  I’ve set myself a task to write as much as I can today, whether you approve or not.

Juliet
Your granddaughter, the writer

 

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About julietmchugh

Fiction writer from the North East of England with a taste for the gruesome and macabre.

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