I just did one of the scariest things of my life. Starting this blog was a risky endeavor that exposed me to the world. Today I put myself out there even further. I gave my book proposal package, which included the introduction and first chapter of my manuscript, to Troy, my 16-year-old son, to review.
The product of a grammar-hound mother, Troy has become an excellent proofreader in his own right. Since I have corrected his spoken and written grammar relentlessly over the years, he now turns the tables on me whenever he can. Some parents don’t like to be corrected. When it comes to grammar, I am thrilled when my children can call me out for careless mistakes.
Though my husband and a close friend had also reviewed the work, I knew that Troy would really want to find mistakes as payback. This was a chance for revenge. That’s OK. I wanted the package to be clean and error-free for a book proposal contest I am entering.
But when I handed the bundle of pages to him, I never felt more vulnerable. What will he think? Will his memories be different? What if he hates it, or is angry, or–worst of all– just doesn’t think the writing is good? I can’t remember ever being so nervous about someone’s reaction to my work, including professors or paying clients.
I am putting myself in front of my son as a writer, as a person owning up to their flaws. That’s a very different thing than being a mother. No cloak of protection to hide behind. No option to retort, “Because I’m the mommy, that’s why!”
Maybe watching the Olympics this week is contributing to this feeling in my stomach, taking me back to when I was high school gymnast on the balance beam in front of a crowd of onlookers. Yes, that’s the feeling–the same butterflies in my stomach. My toes grip the 4-inch width of the beam and I try to remain steady. I am only at the start of my routine; so far I haven’t fallen off. But I have a long way to go.
I don’t know if it’s right or wrong to care so much about what our children think of us. A wise, experienced friend advised me that it’s better not to care. I’m not there yet.
But Troy came through. He took it seriously and even found some mistakes that my grown-up readers did not. I knew he would. He made it better. But most importantly, he did not laugh or jeer or brood. And that’s pretty cool, don’t you think?
Mia Gardiner says
Yes, it is very cool….. and wonderful too. Wow! This is actually beautiful, and beautifully written. I look forward to reading your blog each evening when you send it. It arrives around midnite at the time when I am usually at the computer checking up on my e-mails at the end of the day, and I am always happy to see your blog pop up on my screen. Some have made me laugh, some have brought tears, and all are thought provoking. So proud of you.
Martha says
Thanks, Mia! That means a lot to me!
Barbara says
Perfect Martha ! My childrens expertiese is always important for me.
For my childrens books as well as for my dresses when going out.
I turn around on the stairs when Max looks at me shakes his head silently thumb down, when my sweet husband still says ‘you look good’… he is so polite!
Martha says
Yes, Barbara, I know what you mean. Our husbands are “polite” (or maybe a little afraid of being honest based on experience?), whereas our children often have no filters. There is both upside and downside potential in that.
Laura B. says
Martha, this is your best column yet. Few beginning bloggers write half this well.
I, too, ask my kids for feedback on my writing. They may question a word choice, or point out something that is confusing, make a plot suggestion, or, best of all, nag me to write more so they’ll find out what happens next. Plus, it is part of their healthy path to independent adulthood to have their opinions valued.
Martha says
Thanks so much, Laura. Our little writing group was a big inspiration here, having heard the helpful input your kids provide on your work. (I also want to hear more of your wonderful story!)