Happy Half Birthday!
Happy 6 Month Birthday to PAINT CHIPS!
Oh, I mean, the REAL day is on Wednesday. BUT, I thought we’d spend the whole week celebrating!
So, grab yourself a piece of cake, put on your party hat, and get ready for a fun week of Give-Aways!
Today’s Give-Away is…
A $10 Gift Certificate to Better Way Imports!!!!
Here’s how to enter…Click on the Rafflecopter link below and follow the directions. I promise, it’s SUPER easy!
Here we go!
ZIP IT — an open letter to the inner voice
Dear Inner Voice;
You need to cut it out with the following phrases (and I quote):
“You don’t really think anyone is interested in what you have to say/do/write. Do you?”
“You aren’t good enough.”
“People are going to be so disappointed in you.”
“Remember that negative thing so-and-so said about you? Yeah. Just keep that on replay.”
“You are worthless.”
“Who do you think you are?”
“That other person is better/skinnier/more talented/a better mom/wife/housekeeper/person than you. You will never be as good as she is.”
“You are unloved.”
Yowch, Inner Voice. You need a few lessons in tact. Don’t you know that if you have nothing nice to say, you should just zip it and go home?
Seriously.
You are toxic as aspartame with a shot of hydrogenated oil. And double deadly.
So, hush up.
You aren’t welcome here anymore.
Let me tell you something, I don’t live for your approval. I know my worth in Christ. So, let me address some of your mean and nasty discouragements:
It doesn’t matter what you think. It doesn’t matter what you say or do or how loud you scream. You are just noise.
Now, enough of your babbling. Hush up.
I’ve got work to do.
Ain’t Nobody Got Time For That
Hey, hey, hey! Don’t forget to download your ebook of ‘Paint Chips’! It’s only $3.03 on Amazon and $3.99 on Barnes & Noble. Remember 50 cents from each e-book downloaded goes to The Manasseh Project …but only until Sunday, June 30!
I have 35 days. 35 days to edit draft #4 of this novel. 35 days to rewrite 75% of it. 35 days to edit draft #5. 35 days to (hopefully) do a draft #6.
35 days.
And in that time I have to
Clean my house
Do laundry
Cook
Play with kiddos
Drink coffee
Be a wife
Go to church
Be a friend
Promote ‘Paint Chips’
Plan for a presentation on Human Trafficking
Drink more coffee
Go to the beach
I’m not complaining. I can totally do all that. It’s exhausting. But do-able. Everybody has that much on their plates.
But there are some things that I don’t have time for
Obsessing over bad ratings/reviews
Rearranging my pantry
Wondering if so-and-so likes me
Fretting over my waist-line
Seeking revenge
Worrying if coffee is really stunting my growth
Ain’t NOBODY got time for that.
So. If you hear me fretting or worrying or neglecting my coffee, would you please remind me that I’ve got 35 days and counting down. And that I need to keep my focus on the things that matter?
Okay. Enough of this. I’ve got a purple pen to kill.
Prayers For Hedy
Yesterday, I wrote about a woman who touched my life when I was a mullet headed little girl.
Today, I’m writing an extra post about a woman who has pointed me to Jesus for a good part of my adult life.
Hedy Clayton is the kind of woman who shakes things up. Moves mountains. Not with super human strength. But with humble, soft spoken prayers.
If you ask Hedy for prayer, she’ll do it. But, watch out. You never know what amazing things will happen when she prays.
It’s not that her prayers are heard by God more than anyone else’s. It’s that she actually DOES pray. And she BELIEVES that He hears her.
A couple of years ago, she told me she’d pray for me to find a publisher. After I signed the book contract with WhiteFire for Paint Chips, she was not surprised at all. Delighted. But not surprised. Because she prayed for it. So, she knew something would happen.
I love Hedy.
Well, today, Hedy is asking for prayers. For herself. And this is a rare thing. She’s usually asking for prayers for other people. But today, she’s in need of them.
Today, she is having a lung biopsy. And she’s asking for prayers of healing.
Oh. And she asked us all to pray for one of her sons who is in China.
So, would you please pray for Hedy? It would mean the world to her.
Thank you, My Friends.
In Memory
I had a ridiculous post written. I quoted Chumbawamba (a band from 1997). I was crazy in that post.
I deleted it.
Here’s why. I just found out that a really great woman died.
Her name is Winifred Olds. She had a name that many in Lansing, Michigan (my home town) knew. And I want to tell you why I know her name.
Way back, when I was in fourth grade, I was an awkward, mullet headed, wart fingered little girl. And what I lacked in confidence, I made up for in…well…poor fashion sense.
I wasn’t one of the cool kids.
My safe place was at church. Calvary United Methodist Church on Pennsylvania road in Lansing, Michigan. Want to know why I was safe? Because most everyone at that church was somehow related to me. And, if they weren’t related, they were a bit older and thought my mullet was cute.
My church put on melodramas. The “whoa is me”, “alas”, and “well, I never” type of melodramas. And I loved it. My job? Standing in for my sister Ginger. She missed 78.5% of the rehearsals. I had all of her lines memorized. I may or may not have prayed that she’d miss the performance so that I could be on that little, itty bitty stage.
Winifred Olds directed the play. And she knew her stuff. She was a real, honest to goodness actress. Like. For. Real.
And she said I was a good little actress.
Me.
And when she said that, it made me feel big and small and nervous and proud all at the very same time.
Because I didn’t always feel good at things. And I really loved how it felt to slip into the character and say the bold, brash, crazy, funny things written in the script.
And Winifred said I did it well.
She injected confidence into my life.
And I know I wasn’t the only one to receive her warm encouragement.
I’m so thankful to have had her in my life. Just at a time when I needed encouragement more than anything else.
She had a hand in making me who I am.
How about you? Who had a hand in making you who you are? I love reading what you have to say. Let’s take today to honor those who have helped us along in this life!
2013 Trafficking in Persons Report Released
This past Tuesday, the U.S. Department of State released the 2013 Trafficking in Persons (TIP) Report. Secretary of State, John Kerry, delivered the report stating…
“When we help countries to prosecute traffickers, we are strengthening the rule of law. When we bring victims out of exploitation, we are helping to create more stable and productive communities. When we stop this crime from happening in the first place, we are preventing the abuse of those who are victimized as well as the ripple effect that caused damage throughout communities into our broader environment and which corrupt our global supply chains. We all have an interest in stopping this crime…”
The report is released each year and serves as a comprehensive resource of governmental anti-trafficking efforts throughout the world. It is also used as a tool worldwide to examine where resources are needed most. You can download the full report here.
View original post 166 more words
Why I Write
My sophomore year in college, I took a creative writing class. The class was sure to help improve my writing, spark my imagination, and induce cold sweats and heart palpitations.
“Your first assignment,” George the professor announced, “is to write an essay. Tell me why you write.”
Oh. Yeah. That’s easy. Right?
Uh. No.
At the time, I didn’t have my own computer. I had to sit in the computer lab (kids, this is what they used to call the tiny little room in the school library where they kept the Apple 2E machines).
“Why do I write?” I asked. Possibly aloud. “I don’t really know.”
Sitting in front of the black screen, green letters scrawled out across it, I couldn’t really answer that question. It was far too loaded. Far too deep for me to reach without falling into some gross stuff I didn’t want to touch.
I didn’t want to admit that, back then, I wrote so that people would see me. That they would know me. I wanted them to hear my hurt, joy, frustration, confusion. My angst.
And I wrote fiction so that they wouldn’t know it was ME they saw.
Oh. The angst.
But, back then, I didn’t have the courage to write that down. I couldn’t really articulate that. I was nineteen. Still a chid in so many ways. So, I wrote about the hula dancer bobble head that sat on my desk back at the dorm. I think I might have claimed her as my Muse. That she forced me to write…or something really silly.
My defense mechanism? Silliness.
Shoot. Now you know.
Since that day, I’ve pondered the question. Why do I write? Why bother?
I have spent hours writing. Far more than would consume a full time job. And I’ve made…well…not a lot of money doing it (seriously, writers aren’t rich unless they’re Stephen King).
Why do I even bother?
I’m no longer the little girl writing to be seen.
I’ve grown up. Had careers and losses. I’m in a beautiful marriage to a man who loves me. We have crazy, wild, wonderful children. I don’t need to be seen.
Sitting here at the desk in my kitchen, typing away on my MacBook (far cry from the 2E), I read something that made me say, “Yup. That’s it.”
John D. Blase is a poet, editor, author, cool guy. He blogs over at The Beautiful Due. On Facebook, he wrote what he looks for in writing and I wanted to share it with you (I did get his permission, of course).
“I’m interested in writing that speaks of life lived on this dark and marvelous planet, writing that honors dying and sex and cottonwood trees and lower-middle-class cabernet and your daughter’s faded red robe that hangs behind the door and the fact that your grandfather poured cream in his cereal instead of milk. I’m interested in writing that smells and tastes and feels, writing that makes the marrow burn. I’m not interested in any other kind of writing.”
I read that. Just a simple Facebook status update. And I thought, “Yes. There it is.”
No hula girls or monster computers. No hiding or screaming to be heard.
I write to speak of life. And to honor. And to burn the marrow.
And, as far as I’m concerned, that’s the only writing worth while.
Your turn. Tell me, if you will, why you do what you do!
Short and Sweet
Congratulations to D Aycock Williams! You’re the winner of the $10 Better Way Imports gift certificate! Email me at susiefink[at]gmail[dot]com (replace the at with an @ and the dot with a…well… [.])
Last night, I printed off the fourth draft of a novel I’m writing. A novel that has kicked my rear end across the room, chased me down and kicked it again. And again. And again.
This novel has had me all kinds of emotional.
Today, I’m going to have to edit. I have my purple pens ready. A list of edits. A few characters to think out. A few to beef up. Dialogue to trim…and dialogue to expand.
And, if I’m going to be honest, I’m part excited, part terrified.
Excited because I know what this novel is growing into.
Terrified because…well, read why I’m excited.
So, if you’re the kind of person who likes praying for people, would you mind praying for me. Just for perseverance and courage to finish this novel and send it off to the world. It would mean a lot to me.
Now tell me…what is something you could use prayer for? What’s going on in your life?
Power Out
Don’t forget to enter the drawing for a $10 Better Way Imports gift certificate…Go HERE to find out how!
I’m writing this novel. I have 49 days to finish it.
49 days.
Forty-nine.
I’ll be honest, there are moments when I KNOW I’m going to get it done. That I’ll be able to send it in early. I have moments when I think, “Golly, this is a good book!”.
More often, thought, I have moments when I KNOW I’m not. That is will NEVER be finished. That no one will want to read it. That the close friends (or my mom) who do will toss it aside, unfinished because it is wretched…terrible…a waste of paper.
And, in those moments, I feel like I pulled a fast one on everybody with Paint Chips.
Gotcha.
And that, when I’m revealed as a complete and total fraud, everyone will laugh at me while tossing stinky, nasty, rotten eggs at my head.
Gross.
Last night, during a pretty big storm, the power went out.
The only light in my whole neighborhood came from the screen of my laptop. I wrote another couple of paragraphs. I tried to see my handwritten notes (half old school over here). I tried to force the writing.
After all, the deadline clock is ticking away quickly.
So.
Very.
Quickly.
But I couldn’t seem to make good progress. I got stuck.
And I panicked. A little.
“I’m never going to get this done!” and “Why did I think a second novel was a good idea?” and “Who am I kidding???” and “I can’t even risk opening the fridge to get a brownie!!!!!”
My husband came into the room. I didn’t tell him about my little, internal freak out.
He asked how many days I had left.
I told him.
“That’s a lot,” he said. “You’ll make it.”
Calm. Steady. Confident.
He poured himself a bowl of cereal and got out the milk (he’s quick like that).
I forgot to ask for a brownie.
I wrote another few paragraphs before going to bed.
Real, natural writing. In the dark.
I read a little on my iPod (reading by candlelight makes me carsick).
Putting my head on my pillow, I remembered something. Why I’m writing this novel.
Not so that it’s good enough.
Not so that people will like it. Give it 5 star reviews. Tell all their friends about it. (Although those are nice things).
Or to build a career for myself. Prove that “Christian” fiction doesn’t have to be blah, blech, blerg.
I’m writing this book so that God can be glorified.
That’s it.
So, with my cheek smooshed up against my pillow, I prayed a tiny little prayer…
“Please help me write this novel.”
If God could split a whole sea in half, cause the sun to stand still in the sky, and all the other REALLY big things He’s done…well…I suppose He’ll have no trouble helping me with this little novel.
How about you? What do you need His help with?
susiefinkbeiner.com 