Kathy's Blog


I never set out to be a writer...

I never set out to be a writer, though it may be part of my DNA as it turns out (more about that in future blogs). It is just that I really believe that Ruth Ann's wonderful whimsical fantasy adventure, needed to be finished, and shared with the "children" and children's children in my family.  And so I started out to do just that...

Through the years...

Through the years, since I found the manuscript, there have been many times when I wished I could talk to my grandmother and mother about their story.  Sadly, that opportunity passed along with them.  Mostly I wish they had been able to tell me that it was okay to finish the work begun so long ago.  However, that is not to be.  And so I proceeded with the best of intentions to honor both my mother and grandmother.  I have tried to be true to the story and characters in a way in which I hope would make them both proud...as my adventure continues...

I wonder...

I wondered why nothing had been done with the story.  My mother was quite a reader and even had a local newspaper column for a time.  Surely if she wanted her story shared, she could have done so...or had she just not gotten to it for all those decades?  Perhaps she did nothing because it was too painful.  My grandmother died while my mother was just a child.  Why hadn't my grandmother done something with her manuscript?  (I recently learned that my grandmother was one of Hollywood's first screenplay writers...more about this, another time).  Had her illness kept her from finishing her work?  So many questions...

My daughter-in-law...

My daughter-in-law, Ann, suggested we carefully make a couple of copies from the original manuscript so we could at least read the story.  I needed to begin somewhere and like I said, I was afraid to read from those old fragile pages.  When I was able to read, I found that the story was incomplete, or perhaps parts were just missing.  Many of the pages were out of order (surprise, surprise) or not numbered at all.  I spent hours organizing...now what?

After finding my grandmother's story...

After finding my grandmother's story, I gathered up the papers and gingerly put them in a box.  I knew I needed to keep them safe, but other than that...heck, I'd figure out what to do with them another time.  (I am a born and raised, procrastinator).

I was anxious to read my grandmother's words, but I didn't plunge right in.  Besides my proclivity for putting things off, I feared that handling the very brittle and time-yellowed pages would cause them to crumble away to nothing.  They'd been neglected for many decades, just a stack of old papers stuffed in the bottom drawer of my mother's desk, under a bunch of other stuff...

My mother...

My mother had died and I was going through her things when there they were...those old yellowed and tattered pages of my mother's story, the one my grandmother had written for her so many years ago.  It's funny how things have a way of happening at just the right time...or so it sometimes seems.  I was soon to become a grandmother myself for the first time and here I was about to meet my own grandmother for the first time.  I meet my grandmother while reading those pages of her written words.  Eventually I would combine her words with mine and we would write a book together.

Once upon a time...

Once upon a time, when I was a little girl of about six years, I was rummaging around in the hall closet in the home where I grew up.  I came across a stack of old typed papers and asked my mother about them.  She told me that they were the pages of a story that her mother had written for her when she was about my age.  She took the papers, re-stacked them and stuffed them back into the drawer.  She did not offer to read them to me, which puzzles me when I think back on it, because my mother read to my brother and me almost every evening at bed time, but never "her" story.

And so those old pages grew ever older, tucked safely away and seemingly forgotten.  It was not until over 50 years had passed that those pages saw the light of day, when I once again came across them while going through my mother's things...for one last time...

To blog or not to blog...

To blog or not to blog...that is my problem...and not the kind of problem I am used to having.  I suppose if I am to be honest, the real problem is that I simply don't know how to blog.  It's not that I don't have something to say.  It's just that I don't know to whom I am saying it.  Besides, I'm a pretty private person and somehow blogging seems a bit like having a stranger read my diary, if I had a diary, which I don't.

But what I do have is an adventure to share, a story to tell, a story of a story, if you have a little time to spare.  And who knows, you just may find that you want to join me on my adventure to...I have no idea, but I would sure love some company...Actually, I could use a little help.

If you are reading this from my website, you already know that Frances Willey Beebe and I co-wrote a children's book, Ruth Ann and the Green Blowster.  What you probably don't know is that Frances Willey Beebe was my grandmother, a grandmother I never met, who died 16 years before I was born.

So, how did we come to write our book together? The answer will have to wait until I blog again...