We all have our ups and downs, and it’s only natural that we’d like to share most of them with our family and friends, our so-called support network. It’s especially more fun and exciting to share those moments of triumph, big and small, with the people who always stand by us.
From a writer’s perspective, my most rewarding moment comes when I’m finally able to share the product of my effort with readers at large, beginning with the readers in my life. They, the latter, are the ones who have been supportive of my pursuit from the start, who have encouraged and nurtured the dream from a germ of an idea to a physical book in hand. Of course I would want them to be the first ones to read and critique it.
But sometimes that simplest of gifts, the gift of sharing, can also be the most elusive.
Looking back on how it all started for me, this endeavor called writing, I can think of two special people who had an early and profound influence on my desire to pursue it.
The first one was my dad. As far back as I can remember, he had always been a true book lover. We had an attic in our house filled to the rafters with books of all types, in Vietnamese, French, and English—an inexhaustible treasure trove that we kids began rummaging through as soon as we discovered the joy of reading. And on those weekends when Dad took us downtown (in Sài-Gòn), we all looked forward to a must-visit to our favorite ice cream parlor—but also to a long stop at one of the bookstores there. It became a fun weekend routine for us, until we all grew up and wanted to do our own things. By then, in various degrees, he had imparted his love for books to us, a wonderful gift that has lasted us a lifetime and still keeps on giving. Dad himself continued to read avidly well into his later years, until his eyesight began to desert him. I also learned that in his early life he had finished translating an English book into Vietnamese and had even managed to have the first volume published. But then the war happened and disrupted everything, and then with us kids on the way, Dad set it all aside to concentrate on earning a living for his growing family. I’ve always had a gut feeling that my own desire to write at least stemmed in part from him.
In the late 70’s, fresh out of college and just starting work as an engineer in the U.S., I got sucked into the world of high technology where one pretty much lived to work and compete. Remember the 80’s when Japan’s technology surged ahead of the rest of the world and the country seemed unstoppable? Well, I remember working 60- to 80-hour weeks back then and reading almost nothing but technical journals and research papers, as Silicon Valley hustled to play catch-up. And it appeared my life would remain indefinitely on that single fast track, if not for a great friend and mentor.
My friend Roger was the person who reminded me of the notion of a balanced life, having acquired it through his own living experience. A camping enthusiast and an avid reader, he introduced me to the great outdoors, and to “real” books once again. Under his friendly tutelage, I discovered first-hand the wonders of the Sierra Nevada—and was made aware again of the beauty of the inner world, through the works of great contemporary authors of all genres. It helped rekindle my desire to write, and poor Roger had to serve as the first critic of my sophomoric attempts at poetry and short story. These fell way short of even my own modest aspirations, but I knew then I was going to keep trying.
Since then, there have been many other people who have encouraged and assisted me in my pursuit, and I can’t begin to express my appreciation for all of their support. But I often think of my dad and my mentor Roger because, you see, I never got to share with them my first completed novel, Once upon a Mulberry Field. During Dad’s final year, I was able to talk with him about the book outline and to show him the unfinished manuscript, but that was all. Roger, on the other hand, had passed away over ten years earlier, long before I even dreamed of the story that would become Mulberry Field.
What I wouldn’t give to be able to place a copy of my book in their hands and say to them “Thank you, with all my heart!”
Hey Jim, at least your dad knew the book was on the way, that’s the main thing. As a dad, all one cares about is, “is he good?”, at least for most of us. He didn’t have to see the finished book, I betcha he was at great peace as a father.
Thanks, John! I often imagine how fun it would be to discuss the finer points of the book with him and hear his constructive comments. But such is life. And you’re right, at least he knew the book was on the way.
Love this! I feel like you are talking to me, but also explaining without too much sentmentality, your road to literacy. As a former teacher, I am always interested in the environments that lead to a life full of language. In your case, reading and writing on many levels. Write on, Jim!
Hi, Kathy! I’m glad you stopped by. Didn’t know you were a teacher; that’s so neat. I just hope we both get to read and write and travel a whole lot more!
I remember at a young age, you sometimes skipped the afternoon nap that we kids had to take so you could write stories to send the local newspaper and hope that they would print them in the kid’s section. Your love of writing was there at young age already.
Phong, you have such good memory. And yes, I did get the writing bug even as a young teenager. It makes you wonder, where does stuff like that come from?
I also grew up in a house full of great books. I knew the mechanics of them had begun to sink in when I presented a book report to my 5th Grade class and got a standing ovation. My Mother was there to see it. With that kind of encouragement, I also saw that writing something well was well worth the effort. I thank you, C.L. Hoang, for helping revive that notion with your beautiful book and your help and encouragement.
Hi, Guy! Thanks for stopping by. Isn’t it amazing how seemingly unremarkable things of childhood left such imprints on our lives? In your case, all those books sure paid off as I’ve always enjoyed your prize-winning writing.
I particularly liked that you discovered “the inner world.’ Then you know there are no accidents. All was as it should be.
Thank you, Rita. You’re absolutely right. We all too often overlook what’s really important.
I enjoyed learning about your connection to the Sierra, Jim. That is a special place, and now I know it’s sentimentally important to you, as well. My father was proud of me for my career in a school district, but he never saw any of my published works. Mom and I don’t dwell on that, though, because she thinks Dad is aware, from heaven.
At least you wrote it! Mulberry Fields is a beautiful, compelling book! You will always have that to feel satisfied about. And this post is a nice “thank you” to Roger.
Hi, Lynne! It’s wonderful to hear from you, as always. I’m sure your father would have been very proud of your second career as best-selling author, popular blogger and speaker, and inspiring spokeswoman for the mature generation. We, your friends, certainly are! Best wishes always, Lynne!
I enjoyed this post very much. My father, too, put books in my hands, recited passages from Shakespeare, instilled the love of reading, the love of writing – although his writings were to newspapers for the opinion page, letters to the editor, and his government representatives. I know he is aware of the rich world he opened to me.
Thank you, Carol! So nice to hear from you. Isn’t it fascinating how we can trace our love of words and stories back to those early beginnings? And such fond memories, too.