NOTES FROM THE JOHN AND THE GREAT BEYOND by Reese Mobley

Unlike Miss Pat, I wasn’t raised on a farm with a lot of animals. My entertainment came from my older sister (not the least bit animal-like) and a brain that operated like a runaway train. Back then, I drove my parents and my sister crazy with my colorful imagination and nonstop energy. Probably still do, but they’ve gotten used to me by now. I hope.

Anyway, there were two events in my childhood that fed my writing dream. Both were followed with huge doses of encouragement that I gathered up close to my heart for safekeeping. You see, as aspiring novelists, we hold our dreams together with these threads of encouragement.

I must have been about eight or nine when I wrote this silly poem about our toilet. This is where the crazy part sneaks into the picture. My folks thought it was so good, so creative and entertaining, they scotch-taped it to the shiny tile above the roll of two-ply Charmin. You couldn’t help but see it when you finished your business. I was so proud. For the first time in my life, I felt like a real writer. No one bothered to tell us how weird it was or how their second born daughter might need special care some day. Seriously, what kind of child writes about their bathroom? I’ll bet my dear mom still has it saved it in her scrapbook. Now, that’s pride.

The other memory comes from this story I wrote a few years later about this young family who is waiting dinner on a loved one when they get a call from the police. You see, the roads were icy. And there was an accident and their beloved is missing. The family, of course, is distraught beyond words. They fear the worst. Then the dearly deceased man turns into an angel, says his goodbyes through a frost covered window and goes to heaven. The end. Pretty morbid stuff for a child—I know. But, the point of this is, my folks had me read it to everyone who stepped foot in our home. I remember handling those pages of notebook paper so much they started to get thin around the edges. Again, the pride my family felt in me was enough to keep me going. And it still is. I only wish my dad could have lived long enough to see my first novel on the shelves when it does happen.

Hugs,

Reese

12 comments:

Melissa Robbins said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Melissa Robbins said...

Reese, that's awesome your parents were so supported. You'll have to read aloud the toilet poem at our next meeting.

Joan Vincent said...

Reese, I love your writing style! Your words "we hold our dreams together with these threads of encouragement" are so true and so touching. Can't wait to see your books on the shelf!

Pat Davids said...

Reese, I know why your parents were so supportive. Number one, they loved you, number two, you've got a great talent.

Dina Preuss said...

Reese, I will echo what Pat said because both are very true! Your writing is fluid and easy to read.

But, since I won't be at any meetings you're having then I say post that "Toilet Poem" for us to read (or at least e-mail it to me)

Hugs and Misses!

Reese Mobley said...

Melissa, I'm not sure WARA is ready to hear a poem about the bathroom. lol

Reese Mobley said...

Thanks for the support and the compliment, Joan. WARA is wonderful at offering encouragement to all writers.

Reese Mobley said...

Pat, I know I can always count on you for support. XOXOXO

Reese Mobley said...

I wish you could come to one of our meetings, Dina. You deserve to feel the warmth and support these women offer. Maybe we'll all pack it up and take a road trip to California one of these days. Anyone else want to come along? xoxo

Rox Delaney said...

The only writing I shared with my parents was term papers, and my dad kept my best ones in his keepsake drawer. I wrote plays for the neighborhood kids and others for my cousins on holidays that I insisted they all act in. I'm sure they all cringed when they saw me coming with a pile of papers in my hand. It didn't keep me from writing though.

Reese, your dad is proud of you, even though he isn't able to tell you, and he'll be even prouder when that first book is published. My dad was gone, long before I ever started writing seriously, but I know he's proud of me. I know your dad is, too.

Reese Mobley said...

Rox, not all of my term papers were keepers. lol And yes, I know my dad will be proud of me--when it happens just as your dad was. Guess I just get weepy this time of year without him. Thank heavens I have a wonderful family and the best friends ever to cheer me on. xoxo

Starla Kaye said...

Ahhhh, to be first published about your toilet. And for the poem to be proudly displayed. What a great memory!