It’s Mothering Sunday and I wanted to give a shout out to mums everywhere. I have no actual memories of reading with my mother, but I know it happened. How could I possibly love books as much as I do without early exposure to the form? Even my decision to become a writer is tied in both with books and with my mum.
The story goes that mum was reading a story to me when I was about four. When she finished I asked if you had to pay to get your story made into a book (this was before self-publishing was any sort of a thing: books needed publishers then). She replied, No, the publisher will pay you if they want to turn your story into a book.
My jaw dropped, my mind was blown and that was the decision made for me.
I don’t remember those times sitting reading with my mother (well, I was very young), but I do remember sitting and reading with my child. Offspring is too old to be read to these days (mostly – now and then I get asked to read a chapter), but I loved those quiet, cosy times with a good book, ensuring the next generation would have a love of books and stories. Bedtime stories might just be the best part of the job of being mum.
What’s your earliest memory of reading? Does your mum feature?