I was speaking to a friend this morning, a woman whose writing often glows with lyric beauty, yet who has stopped writing because she could not sell her manuscript and will not self-publish.
As a writer, and much as I would like to, I don’t make a living from my work. Like most authors, and especially Indie authors, that is a dream about as realistic as winning the Pulitzer Prize. For many, the literary Holy Grail appears in the nebulous form of an Agent or a Contract… but even for those who attain it, making a living will almost always involve a day job as well as the untold hours tapping away at a keyboard. It is only a few who will go on to live the dream.
There are moments when you might wonder whether it is worth it; when you think of all the other things you could be doing with your time and all the things you might be missing while you are chasing unicorns across a page of dreams.
For many disillusion sets in and the pen is laid down, their stories are left untold and their ideas, once forgotten, return to that great sea of inspiration from whence they arose.
For some, though, the dreams come true and remind us why we should never give up…
It wasn’t her real name, of course, but close enough. An author’s nom de plume. Still, seeing it at the end of the printed article gave her a thrill. Every time. I felt the same way when that first magazine dropped through the letterbox with my name at the end of the article. Like mother, like daughter. There was a pride in that, hard to put into words.
It was, for both of us, so many years apart, a small thing… but to a writer it means the world.
I am not a million-dollar author with a major publishing house, I am not even a respectably sized fish in that particular pond. But I am a writer.
It took me a long time to call myself that, to ‘own’ it, as a once friend said. My Mum was a writer…she had things printed all over the place. I just wrote things. Even when ‘The Mystical Hexagram’, written with Gary Vasey came out, published by a publisher, and with a contract, I still didn’t feel right about calling myself an author.
You see, I grew up in a house with an Author… one who actually attained the Holy Grail… she made a living from her work. I knew the system. Long hours hunched over the ancient Imperial typewriter, later succeeded by a more portable affair. Always coffee, occasionally turning the typewriter upside down to shake out the fallen cigarette ash and biscuit crumbs. Pages thrust at me to read… red pen…retype. Long, involved discussions… we’d call it brainstorming today… about how the plot should unfold. My mother, you see, is a storyteller.
She had always written. Starting with poetry, she had penned her first novel when I was very young, largely because the title came to her and she had to write the book. Two other novels followed. Stories I adored as I grew old enough to appreciate them. Later there were children’s tales. Each manuscript when finished would be placed in a big manila envelope, signed across all the seals and posted back to our home to get the postmarked date, which was the only way to protect copyright back then. Every so often, when she could afford the postage, she would duly type a letter to a publisher, package up a fair copy of the MS and post it off in hope with a stamped return envelope. And every time the book came back with a rejection letter.
Meanwhile Mum was writing articles and short stories, trawling through the Writers and Artists Year Book that was renewed every year and sending them off. Sometimes there would be a whoop of excitement as she opened the envelope that held a cheque. Most times she packaged the story back up for its next tentative voyage.
This went on for years… most of my childhood in fact. Over those years Mum wrote several stories in Yorkshire dialect; amusing pieces showing the archetypal character of our home county, entitled ‘Dahn at t’ Pig and Whistle’. One of these pieces landed on a desk and there was a letter… an invitation to write and record a Radio series for the BBC. Those were exciting times for my mother and we all gathered round the radio for each broadcast in shades of an older time.
But of course, the series ended all too soon and she was back to the typewriter once more. More articles were sent out, tons more rejection slips were received. Still her novels had not been published and gradually they were sent out less and less often. She had tried for ten years with no success. But she didn’t give up.
One day, she had a letter. One of her stories, sent to a women’s publication, had ended up, quite by accident, on the wrong desk. The letter was from the occupant of that desk, Ian Forbes. The content of my mother’s article was totally unsuitable for the publications he managed… but he had read it anyway and liked her style. Would she like to try something a bit different?
Mr Forbes… or Uncle Ian as he became affectionately known…ran publications many of my generation may remember. He had sent samples scripts of what he would need. My mother sat down to study them. She didn’t write romance… it wasn’t her thing, but, she decided, she’d give it a go. The fee was too good to refuse.
For the next few years, until I left England for France, we would sit every month batting ideas around like tennis balls, backwards and forwards. Every month a cheque and a copy of the latest Love Story in pictures would be delivered. The author’s names did not appear on these little magazines. I only have one copy now, stored amid the family papers… a supernatural tale set in Egypt which we had written together.
I learned a lot about the writer’s craft back then, some of the stories she wrote were even my idea initially and my first bit of design was featured in one tale called, I believe, Lucky Blue Dress. I learned how to collaborate back then too, I suppose, as well as how to tell a complex story in few words and images… which has served us well with the publication of the three graphic novels in the Mister Fox series.
I learned other things too.
My mother had spent a lifetime following her dream and when it finally arrived, bringing that monthly cheque equivalent to a woman’s wage back then, it did not resemble the dream she thought she had. I learned how little it actually matters whether or not you get public recognition… like your name on the cover… as long as you have put your heart and soul into what you do, because you love what you do. I learned that you could take an unpromising vehicle… for so my mother saw love stories… and incorporate something meaningful; her stories always had a moral and the type of motherly teaching that young people need woven into them. Even a lightweight love story could have depth.
I saw that it wasn’t enough to have talent, nor a gift for the use of words. Nor was it enough to be patient or to be doggedly pursuing something for a decade with single minded dedication. You could do everything right and still not succeed. You also need that single stroke of luck… and the persistence and faith to keep on keeping on so that when it arrives, you are ready to seize the opportunity. Because one thing is certain… had my mother stopped writing the opportunity would never have arisen.
My mother’s novels have not yet been published. But they will be. I’ll do it myself. One of her children’s stories, Monster Magic, is now in print and the phone call I had when she received the first copies in the post was as full of excitement as I can ever remember. It was the very first ‘proper book’ she had held in her hands with her name on the cover. And when I told her she had to send one to the British Library, well…! She has waited all my life and most of hers for that. There will be others.
My mother stopped writing many years ago. It doesn’t erase a single word of what she has written. Her stories may be from an older, gentler time. They may never sell a copy except to the family. But that really doesn’t matter. She wrote because she loved what she did. She wrote because the words inside her needed to find the page. She wrote from the hidden heart of her even when the vehicle wasn’t what she would have chosen. She made it hers. For some years my mother made a living as a writer. But more importantly perhaps, for a lifetime her writing made her live.
You see, my mother is a writer. And so am I.
Like mother, like daughter – beautifully expressed, Sue.
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Thanks, Sarah.
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Just downloaded Monster Magic.
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Bless you, Sarah… I think you aare probably the only one who has… but that doesn’t matter. She has the copies on her shelves and her grandchildren and great-grandchildren have read it… just as she wrote it for my little brother.
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My mother wrote two books and I want to do the same as you unless I can persuade Virago to republish. Luckily, I typed them out for her so I do have workable copies on my computer but it’ll take a lot of work because I want to reinstate certain constructions she insisted on but they refused to countenance!
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Id probably go with doing it yourself then. I know a lot of my Mum’s stuff would have been edited to death… but as it is not a commercial venture, I can preserve her voice and ideas.
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Amazing post.Beautifully written and expressed.
“My mother is a writer and so am I “So wonderfully put.
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Thank you. It is a real privilege to have grown up watching my mother work.
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Its a privilege to even hear about it. :’)
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🙂
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What a wonfderful story. I am so envious that you loved your mother’s work and she shared it with you. I too wrote, and my first break was inot radio scripts, but then the media sucked me in and for over 30 years I earned my living by writing – but now, since retirement, it’s different. Now I write what I want to write – stories amd, like you, the royalites don’t pay the bills. But it’s still a buzz when you hold your book in your hands – there’s nothing like it on earth.
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I still love her stories, though the editing is proving a pain as all I have are the typed manuscripts to work from. I’ll get there, bit by bit. But I agree, Lucinda, there is nothing like holding that book in your hands… nothing at all.
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This is beautifully written Sue!
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Thank you, Ritu.
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😄
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Reblogged this on Anita Dawes & Jaye Marie.
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What a wonderful, WONDERFUL story! Thank you, Sue.
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Thanks, Jennie.
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You are welcome!
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Pingback: How to make a living as a writer #amwriting #wrtr2wrtr | Words Can Inspire the World
Thank you!
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Great post. Very beautifully written. Kudos!
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Thank you.
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Thank you so much, Sue – I really needed to read this xxx
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Glad it was timely, Ailsa xxx
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Could we stop even if we wanted to?
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I very much doubt it.
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Reblogged this on texthistory and commented:
An inspiration and common sense on a career in writing
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Thank you.
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This is a beautiful piece, full of truths many of us learned on the long, hard road. I think it’s even harder now than it was in your mother’s day. So many fewer publishers, so many fewer readers. A writer may not be able to make his/her living writing, but we all write anyway. It’s like breathing. Gotta do it.
I love this post.
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Thanks, Marilyn… that is true. I wouldn’t stop for the world.
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Thanks for sharing this! Reminds me that publishing shouldn’t be the only goal. ❤
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My pleasure…it reminds me too 🙂
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That’s beautiful, Sue, and truly inspirational. Thanks for sharing 🙂
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Thank you , Mel.
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This was so beautiful! I know this feeling. I question daily whether I am good enough. Somehow, I keep asking for help and I keep learning more. It’s still terrifying but I’m still going to publish on my own. It just feels right. ❤️ Thanks for sharing this lovely story. Many hugs to you!
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All true, Colleen…and I don’t think you are on your own at all. Most of us feel that way at times.
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I found what she said very interesting, but not entirely unexpected–particularly the part about luck. I think this applies not only to writing but to many other fields too. During my life, I’ve met several individuals who were outstanding songwriters or artists and whose work I felt was easily as good as that of much more famous figures. They just never got the break they deserved–quite often, sadly, because they didn’t look the part–and so few of the public ever had the opportunity to enjoy their work. 😦
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I was married to one such for a long time, Bun… a poet with a guitar who lacked the looks. A little luck goes a long way… but even so, my mother’s work added something the her own life that went way beyond income or recognition.
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Thanks, Marilyn.
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This is part of the magic you hold as a writer ~ feeling, a sense of being immersed in such a spirit from a young age and then nurturing it to make it your own. I love the idea of you publishing your mother’s works. A writer writes, it is what they do. Ideally, their work is read and admired ~ but it never is so easy to get work out there to be read. Great post Sue.
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Thanks, Randall. For myself, I fell into writing almost by accident… but I’m glad I did.
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We are all glad you did 🙂
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I rather am myself 😉
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Reblogged this on Kim's Author Support Blog.
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Thank you.
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Reblogged this on Chris The Story Reading Ape's Blog and commented:
For anyone who may be interested, the link to Sue’s Mum’s Book is:
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Thanks, Chris.
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Welcome Sue 😀
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Hope floats, doesn’t it? Or at least this tells us not to force it under. Lovely story for all of you.
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Never weigh it down with expectations 😉
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Reblogged this on Smorgasbord – Variety is the spice of life and commented:
A fabulous post that all who write should read. The story of a writer who perservered, kept writing, accepted rejection, kept writing and finally began to see some financial recompense.. but above all she maintained her love of writing… Sue’s mother and now in print …wonderful.
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Thanks, Sally.
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Reblogged this on Sun in Gemini and commented:
A wonderful story…
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A wonderful story in itself!! Thanks for sharing.
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My pleasure, Darlene. It is only now I realise how lucky I was growing up in that environment…and how much I learned.
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Said with heart and feeling Sue. Thank you. Like you and many others, I write because that’s what I do.
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Thank you, Jeff. Once bitten, there is no turning back, is there?
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Such a touching post and one that every creative should read. : )
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Thanks, Rae. You absorb a lot that you take for granted growing up in those circumstances.
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Now we know where you get your talent from Sue. How wonderful to grow up from a parent who writes. 🙂
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It was a better education than I realised at the time, Debby. 🙂
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You know what they say . . .Hindsight is 20/20 🙂
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Ain’t that the truth 😉
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I absolutely LOVE this Sue! It really resonates with me. (My daughter is many things, but a writer she is and will always be -not necessarily by choice, but more because she is compelled to write… and I, myself, am finally able to label myself as this too.) My favorite part of this beautifully written blog is “She wrote because the words inside her needed to find the page” Amen. Best Wishes for you and your Mum:) xo
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Thanks, Tracy. I think that last bit is probably applicable to most writers. 🙂
You have a great looking website, the way!
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I love this. So much. How beautiful. 💞
Thank you for sharing these memories.
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You just don’t realise what you are learning when you are young 😉
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GO MUM!!! 😀
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She always did 😉
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I have leaky eyes again for the second time in as many days. Great back story and awesome news. Wonderful- wonderful as Lawrence Welk used to say. Congratulations. ❤ ❤ ❤
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I should put a mascara warning on, do you think? xx
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Can’t hurt… ❤
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:0 ❤
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😉
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You nailed this, Sue. Lovely. My Mom wrote, too, never published. I have some of her stories, maybe will make them into a book.
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That would be a lovely thing to do, Noelle.
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Wonderful. x
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Thanks, Adele x
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I absolutely loved reading this again, Sue. It’s such a confidence booster. I’ll be joining the ranks soon. Reading this post could not have come at a better time.
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I’m glad, Hugh. On both counts 🙂
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I think the most beautiful and inspiring story about you Mom is what you are doing today. Thank you for sharing this 🙂
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Thank you, Aui.
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🙂
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I really enjoyed reading this. Within every scientist there is an ‘artist’ waiting to escape is a quote I remember stumbling across many years ago. I was a scientist of sorts (Doctor) and photography has always been my ‘Art’, but inside me I have always wanted to write. On a very superficial level writing a Photography blog provides me with an opportunity that I describe as having a column in a global magazine where there is no editor leaning over my shoulder and saying ‘I want 2000 words on subject ‘X’ by tomorrow’. I am my own editor and no-one tells me when or what to do. And that is very liberating.
A few years ago I stumbled on a plot for a novel and it sits half written in my filing cabinet. One day I might finish it. The satisfaction has been in the writing. I find it difficult to explain – but it is a way of expressing myself and I take great pleasure in the act of story-writing. It is the grown up version of day-dreaming perhaps.
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I think there is an artist in everyone, if they can find the way that suits their need for expression. I can understand the attraction of photography…I’m not a photographer, but I seldom move without a camera. Writing, thouggh, is a different matter and deeply personal. From journals to stories, it brings thoughts and imagination into a different level of reality… I like the idea of ‘grown-up daydreaming’ 🙂
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Love this post. Expressed the essence of why I write.
Welcome to that little voice, and thank you for following my blog.
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I think it applies to most writers 🙂
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Fabulous!
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Thanks, Stephanie 🙂
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Your tweet of my post led me to find this. I’m tweeting it not because you promoted mine but because it’s good and writers who are struggling should read it.
And I’ve been traditionally published–three novels so far–and don’t make a living at it either.
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Thanks, Ellen. After watching my mother all those years, I’m happy in my garret. The writing is what matters, but I’ve seen too many lose heart no to want to say something.
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Wow! Great post. And a message to all writers about perseverance. Thank you.
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Thank you. I’m glad you enjoyed it.
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Reblogged this on Writer A.K.Baxter and commented:
Thank you for your words! I have shared this on my blog
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Reblogged this on .
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What an amazing article 🙂 Thanks so much for sharing! I’m writing a book at, a self help book/memoir on my experiences with mental illness. My dream of course is to get it published.. I just figure I need to put in the time and the effort to make it happen 🙂
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This is beautiful
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This is such a beautiful story Sue. So inspirational 🙂 thanks so much for sharing 🙂 x
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Thank you, Lynne. I’m glad you found it so 🙂
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“for a lifetime her writing made her live”. What an excellent example she set for you, Sue. And it shows in all that you write. Thanks for sharing this one again. Brilliant.
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Thanks, Van. It is good to be reminded of what I owe her. x
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Either we will rise to the top, or write trying. This is very eye opening and touching in the same time. Thanks for sharing your life story (perfect for a plot).
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Thank you.
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