The Marj Wilke Short Story Award, Mama and me

Recently, I was asked to judge a short story competition, the Marj Wilke Short Story Award. I happily agreed. The name of the organising writers' group, Women Writers Qld, wasn't familiar. But later, I began to wonder. Could it be related to the Society of Women Writers Qld, a group my grandmother belonged to for years?

My maternal grandmother, Mama, had seven children and a husband who was in and out of hospital with bipolar disorder. Mama ran the household and at times worked outside the home in various roles including teacher's aide and administrative assistant. She cooked, cleaned, sewed, shopped, and gardened. She cared for my grandfather, her kids and for other kids who needed loving. It wasn't an easy life, but she took it all in her stride.

By the time Mama was in her sixties, she was widowed, and all her children had moved out. She helped care for her grandchildren, and loved her big garden, but there was enough time left over for her to pursue other interests. She began writing.

Mama was never one to boast, but over time her work placed or was commended in a number of writing competitions, and she won third place in a national Australian Women Writers short story award. I remember her dining room table covered with papers, her typewriter, the dictionary and a thesaurus. These days, I am privileged to be entrusted with much of Mama's work.

After accepting the offer to judge the Marj Wilke Short Story Award, I researched Women Writers Qld, and discovered it had once been known as The Society of Women Writers Qld. Bingo! I also spoke to my mother. She recalled Mama's involvement with the writing group, and Mum was certain that Marj Wilke and Mama (Elaine Trickett) had been friends.

Today I paged through Mama's writing. In among her stories and poems, I found two certificates. One thanking Mama for being treasurer of the group:

And one thanking Mama for judging the Junior Short Story Competition, signed by Marjorie Wilke 😍

I also found this poem Mama wrote for me when I was a teenager, unsure of myself and what my place might be in the world.

It's been more than fourteen years since my beloved Mama died, but when I read her work, she's still here. In being asked to judge this competition, run by the writing group Mama cherished, and named for Mama's friend Marj Wilke, I feel the connection strengthen.

Elaine Trickett, my grandmother, was a writer. She goes on.