It's been kind of an exciting bit of time. For a writer, anyway.
A couple of chance meetings, a couple of tentative sendings, a couple of calls here and there.... and suddenly I'm working on a feature piece for a magazine and have my books offered in three different markets - four if you consider that one of the markets will take the books on the road.
I just keep shaking my head. Is this really happening?
I have you to thank, to begin with. You blog readers who have clicked this page more than 5,000 times. You made me think the net of my audience could be, and maybe should be, shaken wider than my friends and co-workers. So, thanks.
I have my professors to thank, too. Those people who kept writing A at the tops of papers. Let's not forget my classmates who gave my voice permission. Those people who inhabit the halls of St. Kate's from one building to another. Those people who asked my opinion and agreed and challenged and shared. Iron sharpening iron in a most creative way.
I have random connected friends to thank, too. The people I have met here and there along the way who answered my nagging questions, gave me numbers and dropped names. One whole entire circle started with a book in a backseat. Someone asked,"Is this a good book?" Someone answered, "Yeah." Small talk strung over weeks and ending with my books being offered through Pentecostal Publishing House online and at Family Camp in Minnesota and Wisconsin.
Random?
Another event, another conversation, more small talk, "we are adopting a child from foster care." "Thank you for taking care of foster kids." One phrase lead to another until the words, "we have to talk!" Interviews conducted, writing commencing, feature piece shaping.
The Poetry Bridge in Minneapolis looks over the Sculpture Garden at one end. Just a little beyond the bridge is a brass piece of a bell and a rabbit jumping over it. I don't remember what it's called, but I can see its whimsy frolic through my memory. It's just a fun piece. The rabbit leaping an impossible height. Behind the rabbit and bell is the unimaginably large spoon and cherry daring the world to defy its existence. The sun and clouds reflected in red, the pond held at its base. Fun.
That's the view from that edge of the bridge once you cross it.
That's how I feel today. Like I'm looking over the edge to a place where impossible things become easy to believe. A spoon and cherry can garishly throw themselves into the sky. A rabbit can hop over a 5 foot bell. Anything can happen!
I don't believe in random, really. I believe my steps are ordered by God. My writing has a purpose. My words will validate the existence of someone and minister grace to someone else.
I'm at the edge of the bridge again, but this time I'm above the impossible, full of faith, excited to see what's next and confident that He who has begun a good work in me will continue it.
Thanks, God.
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To order a copy of A Book of Pages About Crossing Bridges or a Friend Named Jesus, please visit my website: Writer's Pages
Facebook: Author Kris A. Newman
A couple of chance meetings, a couple of tentative sendings, a couple of calls here and there.... and suddenly I'm working on a feature piece for a magazine and have my books offered in three different markets - four if you consider that one of the markets will take the books on the road.
I just keep shaking my head. Is this really happening?
I have you to thank, to begin with. You blog readers who have clicked this page more than 5,000 times. You made me think the net of my audience could be, and maybe should be, shaken wider than my friends and co-workers. So, thanks.
I have my professors to thank, too. Those people who kept writing A at the tops of papers. Let's not forget my classmates who gave my voice permission. Those people who inhabit the halls of St. Kate's from one building to another. Those people who asked my opinion and agreed and challenged and shared. Iron sharpening iron in a most creative way.
I have random connected friends to thank, too. The people I have met here and there along the way who answered my nagging questions, gave me numbers and dropped names. One whole entire circle started with a book in a backseat. Someone asked,"Is this a good book?" Someone answered, "Yeah." Small talk strung over weeks and ending with my books being offered through Pentecostal Publishing House online and at Family Camp in Minnesota and Wisconsin.
Random?
Another event, another conversation, more small talk, "we are adopting a child from foster care." "Thank you for taking care of foster kids." One phrase lead to another until the words, "we have to talk!" Interviews conducted, writing commencing, feature piece shaping.
The Poetry Bridge in Minneapolis looks over the Sculpture Garden at one end. Just a little beyond the bridge is a brass piece of a bell and a rabbit jumping over it. I don't remember what it's called, but I can see its whimsy frolic through my memory. It's just a fun piece. The rabbit leaping an impossible height. Behind the rabbit and bell is the unimaginably large spoon and cherry daring the world to defy its existence. The sun and clouds reflected in red, the pond held at its base. Fun.
That's the view from that edge of the bridge once you cross it.
That's how I feel today. Like I'm looking over the edge to a place where impossible things become easy to believe. A spoon and cherry can garishly throw themselves into the sky. A rabbit can hop over a 5 foot bell. Anything can happen!
I don't believe in random, really. I believe my steps are ordered by God. My writing has a purpose. My words will validate the existence of someone and minister grace to someone else.
I'm at the edge of the bridge again, but this time I'm above the impossible, full of faith, excited to see what's next and confident that He who has begun a good work in me will continue it.
Thanks, God.
========================================================================
To order a copy of A Book of Pages About Crossing Bridges or a Friend Named Jesus, please visit my website: Writer's Pages
Facebook: Author Kris A. Newman
Yay!
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