Faithchick

Why Can't I Be Perfect?

I went through the copy of my newspaper story. I circled all the facts I needed to double check, starting with the people's names, the descriptions of organizations, and dates.

Despite my double checking, I still felt stressed. Was there something wrong with the article that I wasn't seeing? Was I assuming anything? Would anyone find flaw with the article that I'd slaved and sweated over?

Last week I turned in an article, and it wasn't perfect. I'd thought it was. I'd even silently delighted that it had been months since anyone called me to correct information about something I'd written about for the newspaper. I was on a roll.

Then I got an email telling me that I'd misspelled something. You know why? I'd *assumed* I knew the correct spelling. A website had even backed me up. But the website was wrong.

Then, the next article I'd been assigned that week had also been a disaster. The assignment had seemed so simple. Then I ticked off one lady I interviewed because she didn't like my angle. Then I ticked off another interviewee because she wanted me to write what I call a "thank you card" article--an article where I show appreciation to everyone who helped with an event by listing every corporate sponsorship and volunteer by name. I had to nicely tell her that I'm not her PR lady; I'm a reporter. On top of those things, my word count for the article didn't allow me to fully explain the organization. I just knew no one would be happy with my article. I even canceled a trip to the zoo so I could obsess over my total failure at pleasing everyone.

So, this next article I had due, I decided, would be perfect. I turned it in last Monday. It appeared in Friday's newspaper edition. I'd spent an extra amount of time stressing about this one. After all, I don't want to disappoint my editor yet again. Who wants a reporter working for them who makes mistakes?

Friday, I got the call that there was a mistake--just one little digit in a phone number. I looked at my reporters pad. Yep. It looked like a 4 but it was really a 1. Another mistake. Sigh.

Lord, why does it feel like the more I try to be perfect, the more I screw up?

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Christy Barritt is the author of HAZARDOUS DUTY, a chick-lit mystery about a flip-flop wearing, music-quoting crime scene cleaner who sticks her nose into police investigations. For more information, visit: www.christybarritt.com.

8 Interesting Things...

Today is my birthday, so I'm going to keep my post simple.

Around... oh, I'd say four months ago, several people sent me an email saying I'd been tagged and I had to post on my blog a certain number of items that made me interesting. Er, well... I never did. So, I figure there's no better time than the present. Here are 8 interesting (depending on your definition of the word) things about Christy Barritt:

1.The only contest I ever won in my life required me to kiss a pig as the prize. I don't enter too many contests any more.

2. My mom looks just like former First Lady Barbara Bush.

3.I've visited 5 foreign countries. I want to explore more.

4. I've only managed to keep one house plant alive in the last seven years. Her name is Martha.

5. My sister used to threaten to plunge my head into the toilet if I didn't do what she wanted. And people wonder why I'm such a pushover today.

6. I once drove to Canada just to get a Canada Dry. I've done similar trips to Oklahoma, the Smokey Mountains and New York. Meaningless road trips are THE BEST EVER.

7.  I've played the guitar since I was 13.

8. I love Coca-Cola. I drink a can a day. At 31, I really need to break that habit, as they're all starting to go to my hips.

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Christy Barritt is the author of HAZARDOUS DUTY, a chick-lit mystery about a flip-flop wearing, music-quoting crime scene cleaner who sticks her nose into police investigations. For more information, visit: www.christybarritt.com.

Stuff, stuff and more stuff!

It happens without fail every time I watch the commercial.

I want to eat salmon.

On the screen, I see someone carrying a plate of steaming salmon with rice pilaf and crunchy green beans, and I think, is that a Lean Cuisine meal? A new line of food at Applebee's? WHERE CAN I GET SOME???

Then, to my dismay, I realize what the commercial is advertising: cat food.

How easily my mind is manipulated.

Lately, I've been feeling like we've become a mindless society. We're so easily fooled into buying whatever the latest trend is. The commercials tell us if we don't have something, we won't be happy.

And I find that line of thought creeping into my thinking. I want a new flat TV, though there's nothing wrong with the one I have. I want the newest trend in clothes, though I already have a closetful. If my son only had that new toy, then he'd be happy.

The truth is, stuff doesn't make you happy, like all those marketers want us to think. I spend a lot of time trying to justify why I "need" things--new shoes, a manicure, a different color lipstick. But as the cycle continues, I remember Ecclesiastes where it talks about how everything is meaningless.

Stuff really is meaningless, isn't it?

I try to remember that when the advertising starts to suck me in.

Materialism is an empty pursuit.

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Christy Barritt is the author of HAZARDOUS DUTY, a chick-lit mystery about a flip-flop wearing, music-quoting crime scene cleaner who sticks her nose into police investigations. For more information, visit: www.christybarritt.com.

The Mystery of the Mystery-Writing Workshop

I did a workshop on "Writing the Mystery Novel" this past week for a local public library. This was a new library that I'd never been to before and as I drove into the neighborhood and saw the conditions there, I wondered what I was getting myself into. More like, "What did I ever get myself into? Why, why, why did I ever say 'yes' to this???"

I pulled up to the library in time to see the police investigating a body that had been found in a dumpster right beside the library. Before I'd left home for the workshop, I'd seen the story on the news. I had no idea I was headed to that exact location where the body was found. I prayed for safety. And again, I wondered what I was thinking when I'd said, "Yes, sure I'll do a workshop there."

Inside, the library had an urban feel and I'm more of a suburban stay-at-home mom type. I decided to keep my chin up and act like the professional that people assumed me to be. Inside, I didn't feel like a professional. I felt like a little girl who wanted to run home to my safe little neighborhood.

When it was time for the workshop to start, I remained the only person in the room. Then, two minutes later, a crowd poured in. Almost all of them were 13 or 14 year boys that the librarian had ushered in from outside. I could tell by their faces that they didn't want to be here. I could tell by the librarian's face that she wanted to get them off the street. One boy was escorted by a Sheriff's deputy who gave some strict words before leaving. My knees quivered. I can write murder mysteries, but I didn't want to live one.

As I got into the workshop, I tried to cater it more to the age range of those attending. But when I got to the part about different ways to kill someone in a mystery novel, I decided going into detail wouldn't be such a great idea. After all, a dead body had just been found less than 75 feet away and a Sheriff's deputy had escorted one of the attendees to the workshop.

I was relieved when the workshop ended--even if it was twenty minutes earlier than expected. I was sure from the bored faces on the inner-city teens sitting around the table that no one had gotten anything from my talk.

Surprisingly, several approached me afterward and told me about writing projects they were working on. They'd actually been listening! One boy who looked especially bored and ... well, scary asked what a sleuth was. When I explained, he said, you mean like CSI? Ah-ha. He got it.

Afterward, I got to my car safely and found that it hadn't been broken into as I feared it might. A couple of kids have even emailed with questions since the workshop. I learned that even when you don't think you'll make a difference, you can. And even when situations cause your knees to tremble, always keep your mind open for great story ideas. I have this idea for a book now about a writer who goes to this library and ...

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Christy Barritt is the author of HAZARDOUS DUTY, a chick-lit mystery about a flip-flop wearing, music-quoting crime scene cleaner who sticks her nose into police investigations. For more information, visit: www.christybarritt.com.

Drowning in a sea of ... blessings?

I have nothing to complain about. Really, I don't. I'm ashamed that I'm even tempted to complain. But I am. Tempted, that is.

I'm feeling a touch overwhelmed. With an August 1st deadline looming, I've got a story to write, endorsers to find (hate that!), speeches to put together, a story to write, lessons to plan, a baby to take care of, a story to write, a house to keep semi-clean, dogs to tend to, a story to write, eventually a first draft to edit, interviews to transcribe. Argh!

All of these things are such blessings. I truly enjoy each one. Yet, when you put them all together with a short time frame, they equal stress.

One of my prayer partners recently told me that she'd ask for God to give me discernment as to when to say no. I couldn't have asked for a better prayer. Yes, I do need discernment. I need to stick to my priorities. But why is it so hard?

I know I'm not the only one with this problem. So, right now I'm praying for everyone (including myself!) who has trouble saying no. Lord, give us discernment. Help us not to be spread too thin. Help us to prioritize!

Speaking of prioritizing... I have a speaking engagement to get to. Tootle-loo!

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Christy Barritt is the author of HAZARDOUS DUTY, a chick-lit mystery about a flip-flop wearing, music-quoting crime scene cleaner who sticks her nose into police investigations. For more information, visit: www.christybarritt.com.

I Love a Rainy... or Lonely Day

Amy Grant had a song on one of her first albums called "I Love a Rainy Lonely Day."

I'm sitting by the window right now and watching the rain come down in buckets. There's a Nor'Easter outside. The sidewalks and gutters are flooded. Tree limbs dance frantically in the mighty breeze. Not a soul is in sight on the sidewalks that are usually busy with kids and people walking their dogs.

Before my baby was born, this would have been a perfect day to curl up in a blanket and read a book, something I haven't done in a very long time. But my day today is filled with chasing a ten-month-old. He likes watching out the window, too.

Even if my time is no longer my own, I still like days like today. There's something peaceful and isolated about this kind of weather. I can't turn to my usual distractions to fill my time. Instead, I steal glimpses out the window where the dogwood tree is blooming and where dandelions have already popped up though my husband just cut the grass.

Amy Grant's song said that she loves a rainy lonely day because it makes her think of God. I like a lonely--or rainy--day because it makes me stop and be still. I'm not tempted to go outside on a walk or a bicycle ride or to go shopping. Nope, with this Nor'easter outside, I'm staying put.

What does a rainy day make you think of? Anyone like me and love days like today? Want to fill in the blank? I love a rainy day because...

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Christy Barritt is the author of HAZARDOUS DUTY, a chick-lit mystery about a flip-flop wearing, music-quoting crime scene cleaner who sticks her nose into police investigations. For more information, visit: www.christybarritt.com.

Crazy people

I used to see this woman walking around my neighborhood. She pushed an empty stroller. I came up with many sad scenarios as to why she would do this. Every time I saw this woman, with or without the stroller, I always felt a little sorry for her. Maybe she had a few screws loose.

The other day, I found myself walking through the neighborhood with an empty stroller.

You see, my mom lives down the street. I'd driven my son to her house that morning and dropped him off. By 2:00, the sun warmed the day. It was perfect for a walk! So I pulled out the stroller and started out my door to pick up Eli. I paused at the sidewalk, remembering that neighbor of mine with the wobbly screws.

I briefly considered adding a doll to the stroller and covering it up with a blanket so that people wouldn't know there wasn't actually a baby in the stroller. No, that would be really weird. I'd just have to walk with the seat empty.

So, out I went. I tried not to make eye contact with anyone I past. I knew what they were thinking. They were thinking that I was a crazy woman who walked with an empty stroller. If they only knew I was going to pick up my son!

I've been finding myself casting a lot of quick judgments lately. If someone doesn't seem friendly, I label them a snob. If they don't keep their child under control, I figure they're lazy. The list could go on and on.

I'm not proud of my labeling, especially considering I usually don't bother to find out the real story. But I'm going to start. God's been showing me that I need to look beyond the surface. I used to be much more accepting than I am today. Then I grew up and got busy and lost focus.

So this is what I've learned: You never know where a person's going or where they've been until you ask.

Signed,

The crazy lazy who walks an empty stroller

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Christy Barritt is the author of HAZARDOUS DUTY, a chick-lit mystery about a flip-flop wearing, music-quoting crime scene cleaner who sticks her nose into police investigations. For more information, visit: www.christybarritt.com .

It was supposed to be a simple trip to the bank.

I’d drive through to the ATM machine, deposit my check, and head back home. With that in mind, I didn’t bother to fix myself up. My hair was pulled back into a sloppy ponytail, the kind where little curly strands spring out around my face—not in a cute way, mind you. My nose was red from a bout of congestion. No make up. Sweatpants and my favorite sweatshirt, which is at least ten years old. I really needed to get some maternity clothes since I was outgrowing almost everything I owned.

I deposited my check and then started home. That’s when I remembered a big sale going on at a local department store. According to my friends, this was a not-to-miss event. Name brand sweaters were going for dirt cheap, plus you’d receive an extra 15% off your entire purchase.

I had to pass right by this store on my way home. I glanced at my watch. It was only 9:15 on a Wednesday. All my friends were at work. It couldn’t hurt to just scoot into the store, check out the sales and then hurry back out. I live in a city of 200,000 people. What were the chances I’d run into someone I knew?

As I grabbed my purse and walked toward the store, I quickly developed a game plan. If I did run into anyone familiar, I’d hide. That would solve my problem. It wouldn’t be rude—it would be … a survival technique of some sort. I’d worry about the details of justifying that later.

I made it out of the maternity department without seeing anyone I knew. Whew. I couldn’t resist checking out the men’s section before leaving, though. Maybe they had some great clothes for my husband.

I’d just pulled out a blue sweater that would perfect match my hubby’s eyes when I heard my name. I didn’t turn—not immediately, at least. I glanced around, looking for a rack to dart behind. It was too late, though. I’d been spotted.

I drew in a deep breath and turned toward the voice. My friend Lisa stood there smiling, looking like she’d stepped off the pages of a New York & Co. catalog. I tried to pull a few wayward strands of hair behind my ears. It never worked, so I don’t know why I bothered. We talked several minutes before I used the bathroom excuse—it always worked for a pregnant woman.

As I hurried across the store, I heard my name again. Cindy from church. Yikes. I needed a better radar for detecting familiar faces. We chatted and I reached for a tissue to try and show I’d been sick. Maybe then she’d realize why I looked as awful as I did-I had an excuse.

As much as I worried about my appearance, I realized my friends didn’t care. They weren’t going to drop me from their social calendars because I went shopping without makeup on—just like I would never do that to them. They didn’t go running and disassociate themselves with me when they saw my faded sweatshirt and frizzy hair.

Sometimes I worry way too much about appearances. God looks on the heart. He doesn’t care what brand of clothing I wear or if my hair is a mess. But he does care about how I treat others and whether or not I’m trusting him in my daily walk.

I hope I’m living my life to be a reflection of God’s heart. And one day when I’m gone, I don’t want to be remembered as a woman who wore great clothes. I want to be remembered as a child of God, who pointed others toward the Creator.

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Christy Barritt is the author of two non-fiction books and the soon-to-be-released chick-lit mystery HAZARDOUS DUTY (Kregel, Fall 2006).

Distracted by a to-do list

I hate being sick.

This weekend, my husband has had the flu, and I've been fighting some kind of sickness that's left me really congested and miserable. The two of us have been pitiful as we've been taking turns caring for each other.

Our conversations go a little something like this:

Scott: Can I get you anything? A drink? Some medicine?

Me: No, I'm okay right now. Can I get you anything? A blanket? Something to eat?

Back and forth, back and forth we go.

I have a tendency to be a workaholic. I can happily labor all hours of the day, trying to get things accomplished, to see results. I got that habit from my parents.

Sometimes, I think I get sick because it's God's way of telling me to slow down--He leaves me no choice but to do so. At times like this, I usually think to myself, Slow down? I can't slow down. I have a baby coming in June. I have two books coming out in the Fall. I need to work, work,work! Time is short.

A speaker I heard recently reminded me about the ebb and flow of life. She ever-so-gently told the audience that we needed to listen to God's timing, and sometimes His timing tells us to slow down. It's the rhythm of life.

I've always been the type to say, "Make the most of every moment. Life is too short to waste time." But I have to realize that it's not a waste of time to relax and, to quote an old cliche, smell the roses. In fact, God wants us to do this. He wants us to be still and know Him. In my busyness lately, I haven't been spending enough time seeking out God and His plan for my life. I've become distracted by my to-do list.

As I've laid around sick this weekend, I've heard God speaking to me. And (pausing to blow my nose--excuse me) things are slowly falling into perspective again. I will slow down. I will be still. I will listen to a still, quiet voice.

And right now, I'm going to go back to bed. My medicine has gotten me all drowsy. I may wake up and read this again, only to wonder if I should be writing at all when taking cold medicine.

But, oh well--that's the ebb and flow of life, right?

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Christy Barritt is the author of two non-fiction books and the soon-to-be-released chick-lit mystery HAZARDOUS DUTY (Kregel, Fall 2006). Christy's married to Scott, a teacher, youth minister and funny man extraordinaire. They have two dogs and a house plant named Martha. When Christy's not writing, she's also on staff part-time at Celebration Christian Church, where she leads worship each week. Visit her website at: www.christybarritt.com.

Trees, Books and Babies

Someone once said that everybody should plant a tree, write a book and have a baby. In these ways, your legacy will continue after you’re gone.

Let’s see. Plant a tree? Check. Write a book? Several checks. Have a baby? Um… well, that’s coming up in June.

My husband and I don’t know yet if our child will be a boy or girl, but we’ve been having fun talking about different names. When I was miserable (wanted to die is more like it) with morning sickness, I thought about inventing my own name … Cant Barritt.

Okay, maybe not.

Lately, we’ve been silly. We’ve played with Theodore (the nerd in me wants to say, “Get it? Get it? Teddy Bear-it!) or Care Barritt or Grinnen Barritt.

Really, I promise we won’t use any of those. We’re not that cruel. But we’ve had fun playing with all the cheesy, obnoxious possibilities.

The other day I asked a fellow writer when the due date for her manuscript was. I’ve got maternity on my mind. But I honestly have realized how similar having a baby is to writing a book.

Let me spell it out:

• Finding the right name for your characters and your baby is hard.
• Parts of the process are both scary (becoming a mom—what if I’m not good at it? Writing a book—what if no one likes it?) and painful (one word: LABOR, and book wise: receiving less-than-flattering edits).
• Though the rules are annoying, sometimes I kind of like them. They make me feel safe—whether it’s the dreaded “writing rule” like don’t use too many adverbs, or “pregnancy rules” like don’t eat fish without calling the gaming department first (does anyone actually do that? Me, I just say avoid anything with scales for nine months).

Despite all of my fears, I’m excited for both my yet-to-be-born baby and my soon to be released chick-lit mystery. Life wouldn’t be interesting without change and risk. Best of all, as a Christian I know is beside me through everything. He’s where I find my confidence and strength.

Until next time.

Christy Barritt is the author of two non-fiction books and the soon-to-be-released chick-lit mystery HAZARDOUS DUTY (Kregel, Fall 2006).