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A TASTE OF BLACKBERRIES | DORIS BUCHANAN SMITH was in her office with the door closed, which meant that she was not to be disturbed. If you didn't hear the sound of her typewriter - there were no personal computers in 1970 - Mom was nonetheless hard at work. Writing also involved thinking. Staring at a blank page was as much a part of a writers craft as any other. Mom had made one simple request of her very active family; allow her 3 hours a day to write, with no interruptions. Our response to her request had been sketchy. Inevitably one of us would knock on the door for milk money, another for help in resolving a dispute, yet another with some ridiculous thing; all of which could wait 1 or 2 hours. If anyone telephoned asking for Mom, we were instructed to say that she was not at home, unless it was an emergency. One morning my Dad answered the phone, and realizing that this was an important call, he knocked on the door. At first there was silence. Once more Dad knocked, and added quietly, “Honey, it’s not life and death, but trust me, you’re home, your home!" An editor from a big publishing company in New York was calling to tell my mother her life’s ambition had come true; they wanted to publish Mom's first novel, A TASTE OF BLACKBERRIES!

A TASTE OF BLACKBERRIES | DORIS BUCHANAN SMITH was in her office with the door closed, which meant that she was not to be disturbed. If you didn't hear the sound of her typewriter - there were no personal computers in 1970 - Mom was nonetheless hard at work. Writing also involved thinking. Staring at a blank page was as much a part of a writers craft as any other. Mom had made one simple reques... More