The Un-Empty Shelf
If you’ve been hanging around here for awhile, you might remember that last year I joined Jon Acuff’s Empty Shelf Challenge. The basic idea was to clear off one shelf and read enough books in 2014 to fill it.
It was a fun challenge. An exciting one. I read from all kinds of genres. I read fluffy books (not my favorite) and challenging books and books that reached deep inside me. Yesterday I finished book 87 for the year. My goal was 100, but Stephen King and Luis Alberto Urrea write LONG books. They were worth it, though.
I have always been a voracious reader. After having babies, though, I slowed down a bit. Not completely (reading is a bit of a recharge for me), but I just couldn’t find as much time to read. The past few years I’ve been rebuilding my reading life. 2014 just happened to be the year I regained my reading muscle tone.
I learned a few things this year, while reading like a maniac. Here are a few of them.
1. I’m an introvert. I like people, I do. And I like to hang out with some of them. But afterward, I need to recharge. Reading and writing are my ways to do that. Also, when I’m reading in public, people tend to respect my space…not so much when I’m writing. Funny, huh?
2. Reading in the van is awesome. My college professor told us over and over that reading in the car was as close to perfect as it got. You could adjust the seat, heat, lighting…and you’re locked inside, so no one can bother you. This year, sitting in the line to pick up my kids from school, I learned that he was absolutely correct.
3. When I read high quality books, I write better. Let’s just admit it: Some books are high quality and some are not. I read a little from both groups this year. When I read the better written books, my writing reflected it. So, I’ve learned that, for my own writing’s sake, I need to focus my reading time on books that make me a better writer. I’m giving myself permission to be pickier about what I read.
4. I have some friends who can WRITE! This year I had the privilege of reading several books written by my buddies. I’m not going to name them here (it’s just too hard to name them all). I am fortunate enough to have some buddies who aren’t just good to me, they’re also good to their readers.
5. I want to do this again in 2015. Jon Acuff was onto something when he put out this challenge. I’m glad he did it. I don’t know how many people followed through, but I bet the ones who did are celebrating their accomplishment. Later today, I’m going to clear off a shelf to fill with the books I read next year.
I don’t think I could tell you what the “Best Book” I read was. There were too many varieties to choose one. Apples to oranges to bananas. But I read some fantastic books. I plan to write up a list of highlights at some point.
I want to wish you all a Happy New Year! And I also would love to encourage you to resolve this year to read more. Trust me, it opens the world to you in ways you might never imagine. Read on, my friends. Dust off those books you’ve been meaning to read and crack them open. You can thank me later.
Merry Christmas
I blew it this morning.
Completely.
You know how some snow boots have that removable liner? Well, sometime between school getting out yesterday and this morning, one of those stuuuuuuupid liners disappeared.
I always tell people that, if my sanity flees, it will be the fault of lost mittens and boots.
My reaction to that lost liner? Nothing I’m proud of.
Now, don’t think I blew a gasket or hurt my kids. But I sure could have reacted better. With grace.
It was one of those mornings when I needed to hug my kids and apologize for how I reacted to my frustration.
Did you know that there is little else more humbling than needing to ask forgiveness of your children? Did you also know that there is nothing more beautiful than receiving that forgiveness?
Adults, just a sidebar here: It is super important that we apologize to the kids in our lives when we’ve been wrong. Super. Important. They learn from us to be humble, to take responsibility for our actions. They learn what it means to forgive. And we learn what it means to be humble and we learn a whole lot about pure grace.
When my kids gave me their forgiveness and hugged me back, it made me realize how desperately I need Christmas this year.
Yeah, I need the break. I need to be with my kids for a few weeks. I really want to see my family. And a couple sugar cookies wouldn’t hurt, either.
But I need Christmas because it’s a big, huge, red and green reminder of how much I need Jesus.
One of my boys has spent the last 6 years listening to other people pray. Never – and I mean NEVER – has he prayed out loud. We don’t push it. That’s got to be his moment. Right?
Well, the other day, he prayed out loud at bed time. His prayer was simple, pure, and so beautiful.
“God, thank you for Christmas. Without Christmas, we’d never have Easter.”
That’s why I need Christmas. Because I cannot make it without the chance of forgiveness, redemption, peace.
And, today, I’m thankful for my three who showed me a glimpse of what that can be.
Friend, I do wish you a Merry Christmas. I have hope that you will find joy in this season.
I’m taking next week off from blogging. I’ll see you back here on December 29.
There’s a Giant Stormtrooper Glaring at My Laundry
The other day I walked into my kitchen to find a giant stormtrooper toy regarding my laundry.
It’s clean laundry. And it’s only one of four baskets of clean laundry waiting to be folded and put away.
I may or may not have said, “Don’t you judge me, stormtrooper.”
And I may or may not have said, “This is not the laundry you’re looking for.”
I definitely texted this picture to my friend Alexis. Poor Alexis. Always the recipient of my strangest pictures.
Well, that stormtrooper is still regarding and the laundry is still living in the basket and I am still finding socks for my kids to wear within one of the four baskets in the moments before packing everyone up to go to school.
It’s kind of normal around here.
Well, not the stormtrooper. He’s just here for a couple weeks before I send him off to live with one of my nephews.
But the laundry and the dinners on paper plates and the mystery splotch on the floor…they’re kind of normal.
Please, please tell me you have the same kind of normal. At least part of the time.
A few weeks ago, I was at my friend Karee’s house (remember her? She’s the one who warms up her mugs). We were talking about what’s normal as far as houses go. I realized that, really, I’m in good company.
We’re approaching a crazy, whack-a-mole time of year. We have parties to go to, we’ve got kids who are days away from Winter Break. We have last minute presents to buy and things to wrap. Traveling and cooking and baking and frosting and…
…and…
…we’ve got all the rest of our stuff to keep up with too.
Hey, how about we take a breather. Decide to give ourselves a little grace, a little break. Buy some paper plates. Bring home a couple frozen pizzas. Let that mystery spot stick around for awhile…it’s not hurting anything…maybe. If you need to, crawl under the Christmas tree and look up at the lights for a few minutes. Dance to Jingle Bell Rock with a couple kids (seriously, it relieves a good amount of stress). Eat a cookie without giving a second thought to the calories/fat/sugar/GMOs.
LOG OUT OF PINTEREST. Really. That place only makes me feel like a slacker. And it also makes me feel super hungry. Like, crazy hungry. But only for fancy food.
This is the time of year when we have one of two choices. One: We can choose chaos and get lost in running from thing to thing, resenting all we have to do. Two: We can choose wondered and get lost in all the beauty this time of year represents (ie, redemption, generosity, compassion, mercy, joy, laughter, salvation).
Which am I going to pick? I think I’ll go with option two.
And, in light of that, I’m going to pretend that my stormtrooper friend is merely guarding my laundry, not judging my lazy housekeeping skills.
A little encouragement
I have three kids. My daughter is 8 and my boys are 6. I have never witnessed a jealous moment among them. Never an insult or a harsh name. They argue, but never with a mean spirit. They are best friends.
And they are each others best cheerleaders.
The other day, my daughter was selected to sing in a microphone for a school assembly. She was nervous. She didn’t think she could do it.
“What if I mess up?” she asked.
“It’ll be fine. You’ll do great. Just have fun,” I said.
Her little brother sat at the table through that discussion, eating Cheez-Its and drawing. I didn’t think he was listening.
Well, I didn’t think that until the next morning on the way to school.
We had Christmas music playing and the kids were singing along. After one of the songs ended my daughter said, “I think that lady had a pretty voice.”
I turned down the radio and we talked about how people who sing for a living have to work really hard and practice a lot.
“Well,” my son said, turning in his seat to look at his sister. “I like the way you sing.”
“Oh, thank you,” she answered. “That was really nice of you to say.”
“I’m glad you get to sing into a microphone.”
“Me too.”
You know, since that tiny, back-of-the-van conversation, she hasn’t said one word about being afraid to sing in front of the school. She has, in fact, bubbled with excitement over it.
And all because of a little encouragement from her kid brother.
A little encouragement goes a long way.
Who can you encourage today?
Friday is for Slacking
** Today I’m over at the Breathe Writers Conference Blog. I’d love, love, love it if you stopped over there and said “hi”. Also, if you’re a writer, you’ll want to consider following that blog. It’s full of writing inspiration on Monday, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Go on and read my post by clicking here.
I’m hoping that you’ll count that as my blog post for today. I’ve got a little work to get done today…and I’m running a bit late. Thanks so much for understanding, friends.
Okay. Time to write a novel. Have a great weekend!
The Path of *Most* Resistance
Yesterday I went o
n a field trip with my daughter’s class to a science museum. Included in their trip were three workshops. In one they made a biosphere, in another they got electrical shocks (not kidding), and in the third they had to make a marble go down a ramp…as slowly….as…possible.
How did they do that?
By creating obstacles and friction to slow that marble down.
It was a fun activity.
As I watched our team putting together their ramp, I found myself thinking, “They’re working on creating a path of most resistance”.
Then I almost smacked myself in the face because I realized that’s exactly what I do as a novelist.
My characters are the marble. The setting is the ramp. The story is all the resistance and friction I add to slow down the characters from getting what they want.
I send my characters down the path of most resistance.
Why?
Because it makes for good story.
Also…
…it’s true to life.
No one makes it through this life without conflict. Without those days that feel like everything that can go wrong does. We all lose more than we win in one way or another. But when we win – ooo, doggy – it’s a good day.
As I’m researching my super secret fourth novel, I’m hitting the bumps and walls of resistance. Last night I thought, “I’m too sensitive to write this story. I can’t endure it. It’s too much for me.”
But then I remembered the path of most resistance. I have to go through it. I’ve got to rumble over the bumps and ooofff into the brick walls and get caught in the barbed wire so that the story I tell is right. So it rings true.
Why would I do this to myself?
Because I believe that this story is important.
I’ve believed that about each of my novels. They are stories that needed to be told and shared and (hopefully) read.
After I hit “publish” on this post, I’m going to say a prayer, pour another cup of coffee (and probably say another prayer of thanks for coffee), open my notebook, and run back into the research for this novel. I’ll probably get overwhelmed (it’s an overwhelming era of history), I might cry, and I will need to have grace and give myself breathers throughout the day. When it gets too heavy, I’ll reread an email my buddy Jocelyn wrote to me last night (it’s good to have friends who understand).
Then I’ll get back to the path of most resistance.
Because the stories of the people I’m researching matter. And my job is to say “Look. Do you see that? Do you hear it? Can you pretend to be in the shoes of that person for a few days? Because, if you can bear it, you might just understand what really happened. You might just grow in compassion and mercy.”
And that, my friends, is what makes my job worth while.
“A painter who sings…”
This morning I heard part of an interview with singer/songwriter Joni Mitchell on NPR. Of course, in the background of the talking was her signature voice, going from deep to high. She called it her “helium voice”.
Now, to be completely honest, I don’t know many Joni Mitchell songs. I’ve heard the one they play on the Starbucks station every once in awhile. Something about Saskatchewan. I can barely say that word let alone sing it! But I do know that she’s a well loved Canadian folk singer who began her career in the 1960’s.
I was surprised, though, that in her interview, she described herself as “a painter who sings”. She identifies as a visual artist.
She said that she started playing music so she had money to buy cigarettes.
How about that?
And all the struggling singer/songwriters of the world just bashed their heads against the wall.
According to the internet, her paintings adorned all of her album covers.
And all the struggling visual artists just signed up for guitar lessons.
The interview made me think about how many artsy-fartsy types are gifted in more than one area.
It makes me wonder how many of my friends have talents I don’t know about. Like, maybe you’re an accountant by day and a saxophone player by night. Or a poet publicly who keeps her spelling bee trophies hidden in the garage. Perhaps you play a mean guitar riff and have the ability to change a tire in 60 seconds (I don’t know if that’s even possible).
How about you? Do you have a hidden talent? Can you yodel like a lonely goatherd? Or can you figure out complex math equations in your head? Are you an organizational guru or can you sketch out a cartoon to entertain your kiddos?
I think that we’re often fixated on all the things we can’t do and forget to share the things we can do.
So, what is it that you can do? I’d love to know.
Blueprints
In case you didn’t know, last summer a tornado spun its way through my neighborhood. The hardest hit area was our park. 98% of the trees were destroyed. For a city park, we sure had a lot of trees.
Last night, there was a community meeting to discuss the future of our park. They passed around blueprints, heard ideas, discussed parking and playgrounds and restrooms.
My husband took our daughter. She’s 8 and not shy in the least. She told them she liked their idea for a fishing deck, but also wanted an art area where people could spend time creating art inspired by the nature around them.
Isn’t she cool?
When they got home, I looked over the blueprints. Jeff told me a few of the options. Fortunately, whoever created these plans labeled them clearly. It’s exciting to see that, whichever plan they choose, our park will be restored and even improved from what it’s ever been.
I’m in the blueprinted phase of writing my fourth novel. I’m dreaming and planning and making notes of all the ideas that jump into my noggin.
I’m hoping that, as I plan, I make each part as clear as possible so that I’m able to expand on that idea later on. At this point, no idea is too off the wall. All ideas get a spot on the blueprint because I never know what will be a high impact scene or what will help move the plot forward.
This is a fun part of the writing. Well, really, it’s all pretty fun. I have a pretty cool job.
When an Author Dies
There’s something about reading a deeply moving book that forms a kinship between author and reader, even if they’ve never met.
This is the magic of literature.
A few years ago I found an old, dog-eared copy of Plainsong on a “Used Book” shelf at a thrift shop. It was 99 cents, so I grabbed it.
That book poked at a few nerves in me. It made me cry. I read it slowly, taking my time on particular passages that sang. One or two scenes made me angry, others were so tender and true that I almost couldn’t take them.
I read more of Haruf’s work. As I read, I felt like I knew the man through his characters in Holt, Colorado (where all of his novels are set). It’s that bond — I hope you’ve felt it while reading — that made me so excited for forthcoming novels from him.
Yesterday Kent Haruf passed away. He’d finished final edits on a novel that releases next summer. It’s sad. He was only 71. He wrote beauty and redemption and the grit of life. There is a void now in the world of fiction.
I never knew the man. Never shook his hand or heard his voice. Yet, I’m sad. One of my favorite novelists died.
When an author dies a little of the world becomes quiet. Even if that piece of existence was complete fiction, it’s still a world of meaning and feeling. Because, as imagined as the characters from Holt, Colorado were, they represented reality. The reality of a dysfunctional family trying to keep their kids from going into “the system”. Of a pair of bachelor brothers taking in a girl who is all alone in the world, save for the baby developing in her womb. Of a man raising his two boys in a world that seeks to kill innocence. A reality of gut wrenching suffering and tenderhearted mercy.
I’ve described Haruf’s stories as being “at one moment a kick in the ribs and the next the tenderness of an arm around the shoulders.”
If I had to give one reason to read Kent Haruf’s work, I would use one word: Redemption. Here’s what I said earlier this year…
“Here’s the thing. The redemption isn’t offered up on a platter with a sweet rose design along the edges. It was served up on a rusted bit of metal. The way I think true-to-life redemption commonly is. Because it isn’t the dish that matters. Not one bit. It’s the change, the salvation, the love.”
**NOTE: Kent Haruf’s books aren’t for everyone. They are full of difficult situations and harsh language. If your taste is more for fluff, you won’t find it in his novels. Also, if you chaff at worldly themes, he’s not for you. However, if you like a book that will make you feel and deeply, I dare you to read Plainsong or another of his stories.
Day After Thanksgiving!
I have a big fake tree to assemble today. It will, no doubt, give me fits with pre-strung lights and scratchy, synthetic pricklies. It will, no doubt, be a whole lot of fun with two six year old boys and an eight year old girl hanging the ornaments on the boughs.
If you want to read about when I decorated the tree with my Grandma, you can head over to the Chacos blog where I’m their holiday blogger. While you’re there, feel free to leave a comment and share it with your friends.
You can read that post by clicking HERE.
I hope you’re enjoying your Holiday weekend.
Talk to you next week!
susiefinkbeiner.com 