Mothers: A Disclaimer
Writing has always been a very organic process for me.
I don’t story board or map out narratives— in grade school, I flat out refused to create the required pre-write narrative tree maps, and proceeded to verbally battle my teacher for days on end that “the story is in my head, I don’t need a visual”—and I don’t flesh out characters from start to finish. I literally pick up a pen—because all of my first drafts are done in free-hand—visualize the story in my head, and just start writing. It’s at times an agonizing process; nothing is committed to paper as clearly as I see it in my head, and it feels like wading through word muck. Even these blogs are beyond difficult at times, and require a full—shitty—handwritten draft, and two more variations online. But in the end, it always produces a piece of writing that I’m proud of.
So it’s interesting to see the evolution of my writing as it goes from just a scene in my head, to reality with paragraphs, embodied characters, themes, conflict and an overarching plot. When you write this way, there are only so many things you can flesh out in your head, so central aspects of the story can unintentionally materialize, and enhance the plot in an unexpected way. This happened with my new novel, The Witness Tree.
I was knee-deep in my manuscript, crafting a very vivid backstory for one of my heroines—while also crafting a secondary, parallel backstory for my second heroine—when my editor pointed it out.
On a bi-monthly basis, I sent pages for her to read and edit, then we’d meet to discuss. The pages I gave her that month included a very crucial—and devastating—scene between my heroine and her mother. A scene I had been building up to for awhile. “This is your stories cornerstone,” she said, pointing to the paragraphs on the printed page. “ But I have to ask—where are you pulling this visceral hatred from? The way you talk about your mother is so different; she sounds like a lovely person.”
It was a bit of a shock to find out I had unintentionally added a pretty powerful theme to the background of my novel. But I couldn’t dwell; it was a knee-jerk reaction to get very defensive and protective over my mother. “Oh it’s not her! Not one thing! My mother is nothing like Rachel.” A fear grew in me that my readers would make the same assumption. That they’d read my book and assume I was writing from experience, and that “evil-mother” trope I had committed to page was a caricature of my mother. I’d have to have this exact conversation over and over again with anyone who picked up my book; “Nope, not my mom. Not Jane.” And naturally, my poor mother would get the side-eye as well.
But I tabled that anxiety, knowing publication was in the very distant future.
Well, the very distant future is now two months away.
Recently—largely due to becoming a mother for the first time and Mother’s Day—I started thinking about that conversation with my editor. About where I pulled that “visceral hatred” from. And she wasn’t mixing words; the character of Rachel is an evil—albeit, misunderstood—mother, without any redeeming characteristics. Point blank, she is someone who never should’ve had children. But where did she come from?
Yes, she is a very fictional character but did I form her out of smoke? No, but she’s 100% not based on my own mother-daughter relationship.
Thinking on this further, I’ve realized that almost everything fictional that I’ve written has—at its core—a troublesome parental relationship. Something I have no personal experience with; I had a pretty idyllic childhood and my parents will be married for forty years this June. I don’t say this to brag, merely to point out that in this day and age, my family is rare. So for me, writing about my idyllic childhood is pretty boring; I’d rather draw on experiences I can create in my head. By writing about something I don’t have firsthand experience with, I can take more creative license and not have to worry about sticking to a script of sorts. Truly create a world and character of my own.
I’m not upset about the unintentional theme—the mother-daughter relationship—that materialized through my organic writing process. Although my novel demonstrates the truly destructive aspect of an absentee mother, it has only made me look at my own mother with a renewed fondness. Both of my heroines grew into strong woman despite their mothers influence, whereas I grew up as a reflection of mine’s love and strength. She infuriates, frustrates, and drives me and my sisters crazy on a daily basis. But I am beyond lucky to call her mine.
I hope I’m half the mother she is.