When Mom’s a Writer: The Good, The Bad, The Payoff

My husband knew I was a writer when he married me. I’ve been in print since I was nine and while I didn’t know then that family would become my primary source of subject matter, my propensity for weird hours and a recurring need to curl up with a legal pad and thesaurus were long established. So he went into this with eyes wide open.

My sons are another matter. They had no say-so about being born to a woman who weeps at literary landmarks and views grammatical errors as a punishable offense. But not until this month’s topic was assigned had I ever quizzed my children about what it was like to live with, as Man Martin phrased it for us, “a creative lunatic.”

At first, I got no response at all. This isn’t surprising, given that I live with four men ranging from 20 to 56 who frequently ignore me unless they need food, cash, or my fuel-efficient car. But I kept complaining that I couldn’t write this blog without their feedback—then I threatened to hide my keys and stop buying groceries.

Son #1 finally admitted that he never thought about it, since our entire family could be classified as creative lunatics. He has a point: there’s not a dull one among us. Though our creativity takes different paths, we all follow that proverbial “different drummer;” it’s possible no one has noticed my lunacy because they’re too busy engaging in their own. Under our roof live a gardener/inventor, a filmmaker/musician, an artist/entrepreneur, a composer/cook, and moi. We’re definitely more “The Munsters” than “Leave It to Beaver,” but we wouldn’t have it any other way.

Son #2, afraid of recriminations, limited his response to four words: “You’re a little different.” (You mean all mothers don’t celebrate Louisa May Alcott’s birthday??!) He did offer up a remark about my issues with texting because of its blatant abuse of the English language, but that’s a whole other blog.

My husband assured me that he doesn’t mind—or has gotten used to—my nocturnal epiphanies (why doesn’t that perfect word ever come in the middle of the morning instead of the middle of the night?), my untidy scraps and scribbles, my fondness for men who wield a wicked pen, and my predilection for PBS rather than the Discovery Channel. He does allow that he wishes my talents ran toward screenwriting instead of poetry, so that perhaps there might have been some money to be made at all this.

It was Son #3 who finally mustered the courage to actually write a response and send it to me; it was worth the wait:

“Living with a writer has been nothing short of great. Growing up, I had ready access to a professional proofreader and, as a result, I have become a decent writer, I am fairly well-read, and friends come to me for help with their writing ventures. Writing has never been a problem for me in school, nor in communicating in general; writing is, in fact, my communicational strong point, all thanks to growing up around someone who knows how to use words. I could be writing a paper in one room and bellow out for the meaning of a word, or for the word for a meaning, and get an answer from wherever you were in the house, along with several other helpful suggestions. Having that writer be a creative one is an added bonus; the creativity that stimulates your mind allows you to inspire me in my own artistic endeavors. Requests for advice always leave me with new perspectives and ideas about my subject, be it in art, writing or music. Every house should have a strong, balanced source of culture and my writer-mom has been that for my family. THANKS, MOM.”

What more can I say? If that’s the payoff, I’ll take creative lunacy over routine normalcy any day of the week.


Jayne Jaudon Ferrer is the author of four books and the host of http://www.yourdailypoem.com/. She lives in Greenville, SC. Learn more about her at http://www.jaynejaudonferrer.com/ and http://commagoddess.blogspot.com/.