Monday, May 5, 2014

The Mother as She Writes

When people ask me what I write about, I brush them off with a self-deprecating, “Just stories about mothers.” I imagine that, to other people, motherhood lacks the narrative weight of war and social upheaval, the excitement of werewolves and zombies, the sensuality of erotica and romance. On a deeper level I am embarrassed to say I write about motherhood because I think people won’t take me seriously, as a person and as a writer, and I feel uneasy admitting the extent to which my own identity is wrapped up in motherhood. Yet, without my children, I would not be a writer at all.



Please check out more of my Literary Reflections essay, "The Mother As She Writes" at: Literary Mama.

2 comments:

Rachael | The Slow-Cooked Sentence said...

Thoughtful essay, Andrea. I believe you already have entered that room full of mothers who write, and I look forward to reading more of your stories, novels and essays.

By the way, I recently read Tillie Olsen's "I Stand Here Ironing" -- it broke my heart.

Andrea said...

Thank you, Rachel! And I am honored to sit in that room full of mothers beside you!

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