How My Grandmother Inspired My Writing

As a child, my grandmother, who I lovingly called Nana, lived at the end of our long gravel road. On Saturdays and Wednesdays, like clockwork, she would come to my house and walk me to the library. As a child, that trip seemed very long but in all actuality, it was five minutes from home. I looked forward to seeing her come down the road with the bag of books she’d read and would be returning, to take me to the small building that held all of the wonders of the world outside of my small hometown in Maine. When I say I looked forward to it, I mean I was as excited as I would have been if she’d taken me to Disneyland. From the minute I learned to read, I couldn’t get my mind filled with enough words. As soon as I’d finish one, I’d immediately grab the next to read.

I read through all of the Nancy Drew books that our small town librarian could get her hands on and then I read through the entire Hardy Boys series before starting on adult books, at the dismay of our librarian who did not think I was old enough to do so. My grandmother on the other hand, said that Agatha Christie books were fine for me to read and she would know as she’d read them for years. Still, I was disappointed that I didn’t have anymore of the young detective books to read, my Nana said these words to me and I never forgot them.

“Hey, that’s okay. If there are no more books that you want to read, well, why don’t you go ahead and write your own.”

Fast forward almost fifty years and I have done just that. Twice so far and I’m just getting started. I will be forever grateful to that tiny little woman for what she instilled in me through a love of reading, writing and also the lessons she taught me about never giving up on something I whole-hardheartedly wanted to do. Just as the books took me to places I’d only just learned existed back then, writing stories that others would read and feel like they were inside the pages of the book, was my lifelong dream.

When I would spend an overnight with her, she would read me chapters from“Heidi”mesmerizing me and jump-starting my imagination with every word she spoke. I looked up to her as though she had been sent straight from heaven just for me. I still feel that way, actually. I’d whine for just one more chapter before sleep and she’d smile and read one more chapter, no matter how tired she may have been.

When I wrote my first book, Cartwheels in the Dark, I had a period of frustration while I learned the ropes of editing/self-publishing. I dreamed of her one night when I was about to throw in the towel and walk away from the entire process. In this dream, my Nana was there as a young woman. She held a book that I instinctively knew was my own even though it didn’t yet exist and said these words to me, “Be Still &Don’t Quit”. I woke up the next day and knew what I had to do and I over the next few months I didn’t quit. I published Cartwheels in the Dark in 2021 and The Road to Marietta in 2022.

Today, as I write each of my novels, her vintage yellow house sweater sits on the back of my chair. I believe she knit that sweater herself and it’s one of my most cherished possessions along with the Nancy Drew book she gave me for my 9th birthday, one that our librarian hadn’t yet purchased. I’ve no doubt whatsoever that she guides me and watches over my words as I create characters and stories, making sure that I’m doing the absolute best that I am capable of. Never doing something halfway was another lesson she and her youngest son (my father) also taught me.

“Don’t bother to do it if you’re not going to give it your all” was heard more times than I can count. Today, I am grateful for the opportunity to have grown up with both of them in my life.

As I write, I can tell if it’s “not my all” and I can hear her telling me to do my best as I’m editing to “get it just right”. Today, I’m not sure the library in most small towns holds the same special place in children’s hearts and that’s sad. To this day, as a grown woman who has raised three children up to adulthood, I can walk into any library, anywhere and my grown heart still races at the opportunities that are just waiting for me in those book racks.

When my children were young and on school vacations, we would have a book club of sorts at home. They would read a certain number of books and when they completed the book list, they would get to choose a prize for doing so. They are grown now and are all avid readers and my heart melts to hear them talk about a good book they have read. I hope there’s a parent or two who may read this article and perhaps introduce their child(ren) to their local library where so many experiences await minds, young and old. I can say without doubt, that I would not be working on my third novel, if not for that tiny little brick building in rural Maine.

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Find out more about Karla on her website https://karlawjordan.com/

THE ROAD TO MARIETTA

It’s the summer of 1930, August Violet Finnegan longs to be like other twelve year old girls, but she is not.

She is the daughter of a moonshine runner, who decides that she is getting in the way of his money-making business.

When August’s father agrees to an unthinkable deal that will affect the rest of her life, she realizes she will need to grow up quickly in order to survive.

A series of events will lead her to a place she hopes to call home. She isn’t there long when she realizes that won’t be the case at all.

She learns the hard way that dark alleys in the city aren’t the only place that bad people are to be avoided.

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Category: On Writing