You never write, you never call

I’m the Jewish mother of writing among my friends. I fuss at them when they don’t write. I push them into writing. I make them feel guilty when they’re not writing. I cheer them on when they do write. I call them at inappropriate times to ask if they are writing. I smother them with love and guilt.

And yet I’m pretty certain that at least one of my friends would have stopped writing if I hadn’t kept pestering her to meet to discuss poems. I’m needy. I need readers. I need feedback. I need affirmation. I throw entire manuscripts, chapters, poems at my friends and ask them what the fuck do I do next?

They pat me on the head. They mark up my poems. They buy me a beer. They curse when I suggest edits they know are true. They tell me it’s a good thing when what I’m writing about makes me cry. They push me to apply for things. They pretend to not notice my coffee breath. They agree to read yet another revision.

I am nothing without you.

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8 responses to “You never write, you never call

  1. I could use a Jewish mother of writing friend. This has nothing to do with anything, except it just happened. I’ve found moving a lot spoils many opportunities for building relationships. However, I do try. I’ve been spending social time with a fellow class mother for almost two years. I told her I’m probably moving back to Europe this summer. She turned to my kids and said they must be very happy to go home and see their friends. Two years and it never occurred to her we’re Americans? That this IS home? Oy.

    • Oy, indeed. Some people have no sense. I moved around a lot in my early twenties and then decided I had to settle the fuck down and keep my friends. So I hear what you’re saying.

      And what are you doing on the internet? Do you think that reading blogs all day are going to get your own work done? Get back to work, that book won’t write itself, you know! Have you eaten? Called your mother?

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