Building the Writer

 Ugh!

There are two things I really don't like.  One of them actually makes me a good teacher and the other makes me a good coach.  Neither of them is helpful to my writing career.

First, is the task of bragging about myself and my writing.  I don't know why it's good or what makes it good or how to describe what's good about it.  I just know that I love to do it and people enjoy reading it.  

"Summarize the skill and provide a sample."  

I mean, I can give you a sample of the piece I wrote about Tolstoy or Michael Perry or Mitch Albom, but how do I summarize the way they have spoken to my soul and pulled out a piece of my history?  There is no professional way to say that Andrew Bridge unwittingly acted as my counselor as I worked through my history in foster care.  My review of their work helps others to see through my experiences, but how can I put a value on that?  

Similarly, I can tell someone else your story.  I will ask you a thousand questions and find a theme, a consistency, a layer of the story beneath your answers and write it full of adjectives, adverbs, and actions that will make every reader think they have become your best friend.  Can I summarize my work that way?  Which company wants that on their website?

This makes me a good coach.  Knowing how hard it is to brag about myself, and thinking you may be just as uncertain, I can help you with a hundred adjectives about how great you are and what you bring to the table.  

The other thing I hate, that makes me a good teacher, is I had to take tests.  I doubt and second-guess every answer.  And 9 times out of 10, my gut reaction was correct.  I understand the second-guessing on tests which is why I try to make them more logical.  

I say all of that to say this.  Although I am really working to get my name out there as a freelance writer and although I'm really trying to market myself as a valuable asset to people who need someone to share their story, I really don't like it.  

I love writing.  I can do it almost effortlessly.  I have something to say that is valuable and helpful.

But, wow, it's hard for me to pinpoint why it's worth your effort.

So, dear readers, if you know anyone who needs an article, a skit, a white page, a book review, a paper edited, or a lesson planned... pass on my name.  If you want to be my publicist or agent or summary writer, please reach out.  

While I'm waiting for the fish to bite, I'll just be over here answering every LinkedIn, Upwork, Writer Access, Indeed lead I can find.  

As challenging as it is, however, I am thankful for this season of rest, refresh, and reset.  God is good.  

Crossing Bridges - Thorp to Moscow

I have had an overwhelming response to the last blog post about my trip to Russia.  Many have asked how to partner with me.

The greatest need is prayer.  Honestly.  I am going to have a middle school classroom of 16 students from 9 different countries.  Which means 9 different cultures, 9 different languages, 9 different views of religious tradition.  Gives a whole new meaning to melting pot!

Being a teacher first requires me to assist their basic academic education.  Readin', Writin' and 'Rithmatic are important.  But my past students seem to remember more of the character things we learned together - random acts of kindness, volunteering at a shelter, expanding creative writing, believing in themselves when no one else did, learning to face challenges.

I want those kinds of things to be the benchmark of learning for my new students, too.

Under it all, I want to share Jesus with them in a new dimension, a greater way, to encourage a personal relationship with Him that will last through their lifetimes wherever they go.  I really do.

And to do that with that depth of cultural background - I am going to need a lot of prayer!   If you would like to be a prayer partner and receive updates of the trip, please e-mail me at newkris@yahoo.com and I will add you to the mailing list. 

The second thing I will need is finances.  I will get a stipend from the school for which I am very grateful.  But the costs associated with dropping where I am to go where I am going are greater than the stipend will allow.  I will have church support and so I'm not fretting over how it can happen.

At the same time I have long been on the other side of watching my friends go hither and yon to share the Gospel in many different countries and I jumped at the chance to be a small part of their work.  It's funny how tight the bonds and connections are when you invest some of yourself into someone else.

At the prodding of my youngest, I have set up a Go Fund Me page in the event you would like to partner with me financially.  Here is the link for that page:  GoFundMe

I still am jumping through hoops to get all the paperwork in order.  But as long as the door keep opening, I will keep walking through them.  I feel like Alice in Wonderland moving through an unreal place where the unexpected is to be expected.

God is good.  I am honored to be offered this opportunity.  I hope you'll come with me.  Oh!  The stories we will tell!

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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

Writer's Double Life

The hardest part about my double life is I don’t have any time to dwell on the victories of my writing.

I remember when the copy of my first printed book came in the mail at work.  I wanted to shout and dance and grin broadly and call everyone and post it on Facebook and then dance some more.  Maybe even have a cup of celebratory tea and toast to the sunshine streaming in the windows!

But a tape was waiting and my boss was pacing and eyeing my allegiances and so I put the box under my desk and smiled to myself and got back to work. The bills have to be paid and I can’t be without a job.  Tucking myself away, I set it aside.

My second book, like the first, crossed my desk in similar fashion with similar squelched happiness.  

And now, today, I have officially sent a proposal with real terms to be agreed upon by real people who have asked me to get their stories in print for other real people to print and read and share.  I want desperately to talk the terms out with everyone I see.  To pontificate and regurgitate and reassess the pros, the cons, the fears, the accomplishments.  

But no dancing aloud, no celebrations ensue, no reveling here, no discussions, dissertations or detailing allowed!

Dictation and filing and other important tasks demand I retain focus.

Someday, when I grow up, I’m going to be a writer at my own desk in my own space and I hereby proclaim every noteworthy event will be celebrated with tea, crumpets and loud voices!

But not today.  Today, I get back to work.

At lunch time, if you look over my shoulder, you might find me tossing words about the page.  Not so they become memorialized, but simply to empty them from my consciousness so I can concentrate.

Like this:

Let me just put it out there.  If they reject my offer, I am in the same position that I was in August before I knew such a thing could happen.  If they send a counter-proposal, I am in a better place than I was in August.  

What have I got to lose? 

This constant going back and forth in my mind only serves to distract me from the tasks at hand and could ultimately jeopardize my job.  That is the great frustration of working and not only writing.  The words chaotically chorus circling my days refusing to behave while I do what must be done if I will have a roof over my head and a car to drive.

I chase away jealous thoughts of those who wile their days away complaining about a husband gone too much or children who crawl into their personal time.  What do they do with all that free time I imagine they own?  What I wouldn’t give....  But then they likely wish they could trade my perceived freedoms and independence in exchange for their routines.  

Since my mother’s mind knows that no one wins the green-eyed battle, I construct a wall between my perceptions of them and their realities of me and get back to dictation while the words dance behind my eyes.

The worst part of being a writer who happens to be single is that there is no one to celebrate, contemplate and commiserate with me over the process.  I’m quite sure my friends are tired of my endless bragging and complaining, by turns, about the process.  If I were married, or even dating, surely Prince Charming would understand my fluttering mind and give me a place to rest.  I had a friend once whose voice alone I could rest in.  Something about his tone and understanding would instantly calm the fluttering phrases.  I miss that, honestly.   

Another friend rested my mind once by saying she was quite sure I wouldn’t want to write professionally.  Not that she didn’t think I could, but she feared that if I made the thing I love into the thing I must do it would tarnish its authenticity.  As the contract ballasts are built, I understand what she meant.  I only want to write, but if my writing is valuable, then I ought to get paid.  I’m not sure how to reconcile the two.  

Lunch hour has wound down and the timeclock is ticking.  Again I set aside the writer's dream until the day the words can play.  I put the worries with them in the box beneath my desk.  

For today there is only the hum of the air conditioner, the stacks of filing, the mail to prepare, the e-mails to read and the bills to be paid.   

Today I’m a writer with a job.  

 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