M. Betsy Smith
Betsy started writing four years ago after working twenty-six years as an insurance professional. Her first essay about her journey as the mother of a brilliant, alcoholic son was published by Refinery29. She has also had work published by The Write Launch, Entropy, Brevity, WriteAngles Journal, and Chaleur Magazine. Betsy was awarded a five-day writing residency by Straw Dog Writers Guild based in Northampton, MA. When she's not writing, she enjoys reading, sewing, and a good cup of British tea.
The Playlist
I knelt in front of the oak cabinets, the knees of my jeans instantly saturated by the soaking wet carpet. I was so tired, but I had to get his record albums out.
Creative Nonfiction
Issue 44, December 2020
“A Matter of Tea” and “Blackbird”
1. A Formal Affair
In Cambridge, English bone china.
A floral pot of black tea.
Delicate cups with saucers.
A bit of milk.
Fine linen.
Lace napkins.
In Cambridge, English bone china.
A floral pot of black tea.
Delicate cups with saucers.
A bit of milk.
Fine linen.
Lace napkins.
Poetry
Issue 29, September 2019
Dear James
When my son Justin first battled alcoholism, he used music to ease his agony. He played guitar and wrote sensitive, deeply personal songs during those difficult years. As a part of his recovery, he recorded a CD he titled Vinegar and Vigilance. It was apt. His songs told of his loneliness, his prayers, and of loves he lost. His deep voice quivered at times, but his lyrics and skillful guitar playing helped to carry him through to sobriety.
Creative Nonfiction
Issue 24, April 2019
A Matter of Touch
I stare at my cell phone in a sick state of disbelief. I had missed Justin’s one call. He left a message that I play again, hoping it’s not real.
“Mom, how did I get here?”
I hit stop unable to listen to it in its entirety.
“I don’t know,” I whispered.
I’m not sure I can do this anymore, being privy to his suffering and the hell he lives in. It’s too hard. But I am the one he needs; the one he reaches out to, his mother. I know that if I abandon him he won’t survive.
Creative Nonfiction
Issue 20, December 2018
M. Betsy Smith
Betsy started writing four years ago after working twenty-six years as an insurance professional. Her first essay about her journey as the mother of a brilliant, alcoholic son was published by Refinery29. She has also had work published by The Write Launch, Entropy, Brevity, WriteAngles Journal, and Chaleur Magazine. Betsy was awarded a five-day writing residency by Straw Dog Writers Guild based in Northampton, MA. When she's not writing, she enjoys reading, sewing, and a good cup of British tea.
The Playlist
I knelt in front of the oak cabinets, the knees of my jeans instantly saturated by the soaking wet carpet. I was so tired, but I had to get his record albums out.
Creative Nonfiction
Issue 44, December 2020
“A Matter of Tea” and “Blackbird”
1. A Formal Affair
In Cambridge, English bone china.
A floral pot of black tea.
Delicate cups with saucers.
A bit of milk.
Fine linen.
Lace napkins.
In Cambridge, English bone china.
A floral pot of black tea.
Delicate cups with saucers.
A bit of milk.
Fine linen.
Lace napkins.
Poetry
Issue 29, September 2019
Dear James
When my son Justin first battled alcoholism, he used music to ease his agony. He played guitar and wrote sensitive, deeply personal songs during those difficult years. As a part of his recovery, he recorded a CD he titled Vinegar and Vigilance. It was apt. His songs told of his loneliness, his prayers, and of loves he lost. His deep voice quivered at times, but his lyrics and skillful guitar playing helped to carry him through to sobriety.
Creative Nonfiction
Issue 24, April 2019
A Matter of Touch
I stare at my cell phone in a sick state of disbelief. I had missed Justin’s one call. He left a message that I play again, hoping it’s not real.
“Mom, how did I get here?”
I hit stop unable to listen to it in its entirety.
“I don’t know,” I whispered.
I’m not sure I can do this anymore, being privy to his suffering and the hell he lives in. It’s too hard. But I am the one he needs; the one he reaches out to, his mother. I know that if I abandon him he won’t survive.
Creative Nonfiction
Issue 20, December 2018