Family Members Who Supported and Influenced Me as a Writer #IWSG #Writers

  

 

The first Wednesday of every month is officially 

Insecure Writer's Support Group day.

The Purpose: To share and encourage. Writers can express doubts and concerns without fear of appearing foolish or weak. Those who have been through the fire can offer assistance and guidance. It's a safe haven for insecure writers of all kinds!

IWSG Asks: Is there someone who supported or influenced you that perhaps isn't around anymore? Anyone you miss?

My mother was an avid reader. She always carried a book with her everywhere she went. She greatly influenced my love of reading. 

My mom, Patty, and me.

When I was little, about 8 or 9, I told her about a re-occurring dream I had at night. It was a strange dream involving zombies. Yes, even as a little girl, I was apparently obsessed with the supernatural! lol I gave her such vivid detail of the dream that she said I should write about my dream in a journal. She suggested that maybe, one day, I could turn the dream into a story and write it.

Her suggestion inspired me to create a dream journal where each morning, I'd write as much detail as I could remember from my dreams during the night. I still do this. From several of these dream journals, I've come up with many of my stories.

My mom passed away from leukemia when I was 11 years old, so she never got to see how her suggestion that day had impacted my life. Later, during my late teens when I already knew I wanted to become a published author one day, I stumbled across some of my mother's notebooks. Flipping through them, I found several pages of short stories and story ideas she had written. Apparently, she'd been interested in writing stories, too.

Finding those notebooks and discovering that my mom had dabbled in writing romance fiction made me feel closer to her. It was a bond we shared. Our shared love for writing and reading romance.

Apparently, I am my mother's daughter! 

I miss her, more than anything, and I hope she'd be proud to know that I've pursued my dreams of becoming published and succeeded, as well as becoming a USA Today Bestselling author.

My grandmother, Pat, with me and my daughter.

And while my mother was the one who inspired me to write, my grandmother was the one who supported and encouraged me to continue making my dreams a reality. My grandmother believed I would succeed. She believed in my talent, strength and imagination. There was no doubt in her mind that I would get where I wanted to go with my career one day. Thankfully, she saw my first few books published, but passed away before I became a bestselling author.

I hope she and my mom are watching. I still have many plans. I have further to go in my career, more books to write, more goals to accomplish. Even though they're gone, I still feel like they're supporting me from the other side, and I hope I'm making them proud.

Happy writing!

~ Tricia 

Be sure to visit the other writers in the 

Insecure Writer's Support Group!

I write sensual paranormal, sci-fi and historical romances. Interested in learning more about my stories? Become a VIP Reader by signing-up for my newsletter where you'll learn about my new book releases, updates on my works-in-progress, writing tips, book reviews, contests, and other fun book-related info!

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Following My Mother's Advice

I know I'm a day late for talking about Mother's Day. This weekend has been full of spring cleaning, baseball games and edits so I didn't take much time for anything else other than spending time with my children. But, I didn't want to let the moment slip by when I have an opportunity to give gratitude to my mother. As some of you might know, my mother passed away when I was 11. In the grand scheme of things that's a very short time to come to know the most important woman in your life. Just as I was really starting to get to know her as a person she was diagnosed with leukemia and four short months later was gone. But her love and influence still continue nearly 25 years later. I cherish all of my warm memories and stories from family and friends.

My mom and her dog, Reva.

And I credit my mother for my writing. She's the one who suggested I write stories when I was very young, when I was maybe 8 or 9. Ever since I was little, I've had the most vivid dreams. In the mornings, I would tell my mom about my epic movie-like dreams. One day while I was sitting on her bed watching her brush her hair to get ready for the day, I finished telling her about a recurring dream I had since I was in kindergarten about zombies. Yep, zombies. No happy fairy tales or princesses in my dreams. It's no wonder I write paranormal stories! :) After I was done, she told me I should get a notebook and write about the dream. Maybe I might be able to write a story about it.

Up until that point in my life, the thought of recording my dreams had never occurred to me. Thinking about writing stories about them never did either. But, I followed her advice. I wrote down my dreams and I've been making stories out of them ever since.

Thanks mom! ❤

All that I am, or hope to be, I owe to my Angel Mother.

~ Abraham Lincoln

Mother is a Beautiful Word

I never really thought about a favorite word until I had children. Mama was the first word each of my children spoke (much to the dismay of my husband who diligently practiced saying 'Dada' to them each day). Their sweet voices calling 'mama' is a sound that will remain forever in my heart.

Even as they grow, and 'Mama' has changed to 'Mommy' and then to 'Mom', each variation holds it's own beauty. Mother is a beautiful word. It holds such power and meaning. My children are my life. They are each a part of me. My body held them, protected them, nourished them. They were born carrying a bit of my heart and soul. After I am gone from this world, my heart will continue to beat in each of theirs.

Never in my life (until 7 years ago!) did I ever imagine I might be a mother. Such a thing was beyond belief. First of all, I feared pain. How could I ever bear the brutality of childbirth? Oh, I've heard the stories. My grandmother glories in describing her three days of gruesome labor during my own mother's birth. Of course, now they have drugs to alleviate the pain, but even then I knew I would not follow that path.

The birth of my firstborn was different than I had ever imagined. It was beautiful. It was 20 hours of waiting for his arrival, focusing on my precious joy instead of the pain, feeling the ghostly presence of my mother at my side holding my hand, the doctor's arrival and stunned surprise to learn that I had refused any drugs. I listened to my baby's heartbeat on the monitors with all the wires taped across my swollen belly. Even as they hurried me into surgery, to bring my son into the world via c-section because of complications, I marveled at the wonder of it all. And when the doctor lifted my 9 lb 5oz child from my womb, I saw the most beautiful baby in the world. I cried at his beauty. At the miracle that my body had created such a perfect creature.

Now, 7 years and 2 more children later, I still recall each of their births with such clarity that I hope never to forget. I have 3 favorite days of the year, 3 days that I celebrate as the most wondrous days in my world. The birthdays of each of my children.

On my own birthday, I think of my mother. Was my birthday one of her favorite days? Did she remember the first time she held me after many hours of labor to bring me into the world? Did she remember with crystal clarity the moment the doctor placed me in her arms and she first looked upon me? Did she cry as I did at the first sight of her baby?

Mom and me

As I've become a mother, I feel closer to my own, even though she's no longer with me. I understand her more now than I ever could before. And as I love the sound of my children calling me 'Mommy' I also love the sound of 'Mom' falling from my lips as I call to her.

And as the word 'mother' holds such meaning to me now, more than ever before, I also realize I have two other favorite words that rival that. Two more words that until a few years ago, I thought never to hold any meaning to me.

Son and Daughter.

In Memory of My Mother

PattyJean Zimmerman 1958-1989

Today is my mom's birthday. I always write a little about her in tribute on her birthday since she was the most important woman in my life, shaping me to become the person I am today. She was a fanatic reader. I have so many memories of her reading novels while my brother and I played on our living room floor with our toys. She read a lot of Danielle Steel, Stephen King and Dean Koontz. She read Rosemary Rogers and many, many of the romances from the '70s & '80s that are now referred to as bodice rippers. As a kid, I remember teasing her about the half naked men and women on those novel covers.

When I was really young, she read Dr. Seuss books to me (they were my favorite!). As I grew older and learned how to read, I was so proud of my new ability. Mom encouraged me to read to my brother which I did, creating wonderful memories of him following me around with a book in his hand asking me to read to him. I used to make silly faces and goofy sounds to accompany the text and point at the illustrations, imagining them coming to life and what we would do if they did. We would giggle and laugh! Reading was so much fun!

As pleased as I was to read aloud to my brother, I was also a little sad that my cherished reading time with my mom had faded away. She still read to us, both of us sitting contentedly in her lap, just not as often. But, by then, she had her own studies to work on since she had decided to go to college to further her education. During my early school years, I remember the three of us sitting at the kitchen table, all doing our homework together.

Some other things about my mom that I love to remember...

• Her laugh. She had the funniest laugh! It was contagious. And when she thought something was really funny, she'd let out a little snort while she laughed that sent me into giggles. After she passed, I told myself I would never, ever forget her laugh. It's been almost 24 years since she's gone and I still remember her funny laugh.
• She loved to crochet. If she wasn't reading, then she was crotcheting. She crocheted blankets and little outfits for me when I was a baby. I'm thankful to have these treasured items that I've used for my own children.
• One of her favorite movies was Dirty Dancing (wasn't that every woman's favorite in the '80s?). She adored Patrick Swayze! I bet she was one of the first to greet him at the pearly gates when he passed. 
• She was also a writer! A few years after she died, I was going through some things in the attic and I came across a box of notebooks that my dad must have stuffed up there. Some of the notebooks were filled with notes she'd taken during college, but to my surprise I found the beginnings of stories and short outlines of ideas for novels. And what sort of stories were these? Romance stories! Of course! Like mother, like daughter, I guess! I also discovered she was interested in becoming a book reviewer. She had a few short drafts of reviews of the books she'd read. I thought it ironic how I had been writing stories of my own long before I discovered that she had shared the same interest. At the time, it made me miss her even more. I would have loved to talk with her about the craft of writing.
• When she drove her car, she always ended up hitting potholes. My dad used to joke that she must aim for them. 
• My dog, Reva, loved my mom best out of all of us. Reva was her dog. She'd cuddle with her, sleep with her, she was always at her side. It was because of my mom that we got Reva as a puppy since my dad wasn't too crazy about the idea of getting a dog. But, how could he say no to my mother whom he loved more than anything? Home she came and my mom trained her and played with her everyday. My mom also named her. How did she name her? Well, she picked her favorite character from her favorite TV soap opera. Reva Shayne Lewis from The Guiding Light. 
• And speaking of picking names from her favorite soaps, that's how she picked my name! There was a soap opera she watched in the '70s with a woman named Tricia who was pregnant at the same time my mom was pregnant with me. I don't remember what the show was called, but I like the name. Ironically, Tricia is also a form of Patty (my mom), and Patricia (my grandmother). Some people think it was a family-name thing, but nope, it was just a coincidence. When I was pregnant, I joked with my Nana Pat that I should keep the name thing going and name my daughter, Patrice, or my son, Patrick. My husband wasn't so keen on those names and to be honest, neither was I!
• She always wanted to be a teacher. My grandmother tells me when my mom was a kid she'd gather all the kids from the neighborhood and she'd set up a classroom in her house and proceed to 'teach' them. This love of teaching led her to attend Penn State University and Kutztown University where she graduated with honors (I believe she ranked 2nd highest in her class). She went on to substitute teach while searching for a permanent teaching position for about half a year before she was diagnosed with leukemia. Four months later, she died. But she had achieved her dream of becoming a teacher and she touched the lives of many students and faculty.  

Reva and my mom

I'm happy to share these memories with you. Now each of you has a piece of my mom's memory which will keep her living in the hearts of us all. During her life, she became a wonderful friend to many, many people who all keep fond memories of her, as I do. I'm grateful for the time I shared with my mother and for all that I learned from her. I love her and miss her everyday!