Mother Writes: The Girl and the Rickshaw

Saturday, 14 January 2012

The Girl and the Rickshaw

Hooray, a short story published in Magic Cat Press called 'The Girl and the Rickshaw'. Click here to have a read. The story is inspired by my year spent in India and the many rickshaw journeys I took around Bangalore, though the girl is definitely not me! This is a funny old story, the few people that have read it have generally said that they felt let down by the ending. I guess Magic Cat Press didn't feel that way as otherwise they wouldn't have accepted it, but if anybody out there does read it, I'd be hugely grateful for some feedback!

1 comment:

Mother Goutte20 June 2012 at 06:54
What a thought provoking story! It's very easy to identify with Kate.
It made me think about what Naomi Stadlen says about being a mother and how a mother's compassion extends to others. Although Kate's compassion is very much mixed with her physical discumfort and her worries for her own son. She suddenly finds herself overwhelmed both emotionnaly and physically. Is she distressed by the abandoonment and the implication for the baby and his family or by her own situation, or both? Would her first reaction, had she not been with her son and worrying about him, been to want to protect and mother this other baby 'fallen' into her lap?!
Thank you for this story.
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Mother Writes...What's it all about?

When I was little, I imagined with the supreme confidence of a child that when I was all grown up, I'd be a celebrated writer. And by grown-up, I probably meant about eighteen. The concept of even reaching the age of thirty, let alone beyond, was off my radar and my seven-year old self shuddered at the ominious thought of not having published at least several novels by that grand old age.

Fast forward to the present. Here I am, age thirty-five, wife to a lovely hubby and mother to three gorgeous children. Now, am I writer? My seven-year old self would hold a very strong opinion on this: No, because I don't have a single published novel to my name. But I'm pleased to say that now I'm all grown-up, I'm also a bit more measured and realistic in my expectations of myself. Don't get me wrong - I love my seven-year old self for believing I could achieve that much but I have, over the years, come to an important conclusion:

If you dance, you are a dancer. If you paint, you are a painter. And if you write, you are a writer.

But we have to actually do it, not just talk about doing it. It's all too easy to procrastinate about our creative endeavours and that's all I ask of myself now: to create; to write. And if I'm lucky enough to get something published (which I'm pleased to say that I have done, in the form of short stories, reviews and articles), well, that's a bonus. And that's what this blog offers: little slices of honesty on my plate of life as mother, wife and creator of words. It's often not easy to juggle all three, particularly dealing with bouts of chronic insomnia. But I have to trust this is all part of the journey, and challenges are what make life interesting.