Some last minute thoughts (ok, ramblings) before SheSpeaks

Well, today is the last day I have to get ready for the SheSpeaks conference. I fly out in the morning and have to do laundry before I can pack. I'm out of clean bras again.

But you know me, I have to have the last word! I want to write a letter to any potential publishers and agents that may check out my blog after I meet with them this Friday. Knowing me, my brain will be on overload and I won’t be able to form a coherent sentence during the weekend to update OSCBB. So I better speak up now while my coffee is running thru the veins full throttle!

Please, Shrinkites, feel free to comment at the bottom and add anything to this letter that you feel I may have left out. Ok, here we go!


To whom it may concern:


This is a letter to introduce myself. My name is Charlie, and I have a book I desperately wish to have published. In fact, I have 2 manuscripts, but I am not greedy enough to suppose I could score more than one. Moderation is the key in all situations. In fact, you may have noticed that my rambling during our meeting on Friday proved that I hold common sense in moderation as well. You’d be right. Although truth be told, I have plenty of common sense. I just lack the judgment to use it.


Like yesterday. I knew my tummy was rumbling like fiery coals in a pressure cooker, yet I chose to run errands anyway, against my better sense of judgment. When I got a mile from Office Max, I realized that I was probably going to have to have the van seat cleaned if I didn’t find a bathroom soon. So I pulled into our local farm store- the one with the bathrooms right near the entrance. It was a perfect plan. But I didn’t use common sense and account for errors. While I appreciated the fact that the 80 year old gentleman was cleaning the bathrooms for my satisfaction and comfort, I was unable to see the benefit right at that moment. Nor did my backside, which was beginning to reach the point of “no returning to this store.” When I found a cashier and asked if there was another bathroom available, she (using her own common sense) sweetly led me up a flight of stairs to the employee area. She took pity on me, as I was delicately walking with one hand on the railing, and the other hand clutching my backside with all intention of corking things up till I got into the bathroom. The moment I hit the toilet, I realized that perhaps I should demonstrate greater common sense in the future.


And I can. I can demonstrate it- I think. I'm pretty sure there is a remote possibility that I can show at least some common sense. And I can be normal. Part of the fun of who I am is that I get into Lucille Ball type situations trying to do things the way I consider normal should be. Actually, now that I think about it, maybe my normal isn’t so normal after all.


Like my attire for the weekend. It’s all polka dots, every day. Now, it’s not even that I like polka dots. I kinda do, I suppose, but I had to figure out how to look normal among a world of put together polished girls that understand fashion. Real fashion. As for me, I consider my sneakers with the skull shoelaces and my Operation Shrink Charlie’s Big Butt T-shirt with logo completely appropriate for church. Also the white skull I have painted on my Bible cover, with reference to Romans 6:23-for the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life- well, I consider that normal and fine too. I would have been more than happy to dress in all 1950’s dresses with cherries on them for the conference, with tattoos fully hanging out. But I’m not going to do that. I am playing it safe with polka dots. All my tattoos are hideable (I knew I could demonstrate common sense somewhere!) and I fit in. Sort of. And frankly, after you read this blog and decide to give me my rejection letter face to face, I’ll be easy to find. Look for lots and lots of dots. Even normal with me is spotty.


BUT- before you give me that rejection letter, I would like you to consider something you may not think about otherwise. I would like for you to think about all those women who actually “get” me. The chicks who understand that my life is crazy and love me anyway. The gals who breathe a sigh of relief after reading my stuff and say “Thank heavens I’m not the only one!”


I don’t know if you have thought about this, but there are millions of us out there. Those of us who don’t fit in. Or if we do fit in, it’s in clothes that we really don’t want to be wearing. These women, the ones who are just like me- those are the ones that will buy my book, should you choose to publish it. I’m not talking about the crazy girls with tattoos. (But you girls know who you are!!!) I’m talking about every woman who has ever felt “less than.” All the girls out there whose life wouldn’t make the cover of a magazine. The ones who struggle with faith, fat, and fear. Those are the women I write to. The women reading this blog, same as you, are my passion. I love them more than they realize! I love them so much that I tell them the truth. About EVERYTHING. Even the ugly stuff.


And they, for some reason unbeknownst to me, listen to what I have to say. Sure, part of it is because of my story telling, and the funny stuff I can’t help but have happen. But another part is because they want to see how someone else- with the same struggles they have – can live an authentic life. One that isn’t perfect or pretty, but is full of joy. That finds the sunshine in the midst of the storm. A life that doesn’t give up, even when things are hard.


No, I am not your typical “Sweet Jesus Girl” author. I am probably going to refer to boobs as blessings in cups and mention periods and talk about my faith being like a tampon passed underneath a bathroom stall. I will probably put on a girdle in front of them (over clothes, of course) to demonstrate being girded in the truth as Ephesians 6 talks about. But wouldn’t that be a breath of fresh air for your publishing company and agency? To find someone who reaches women who are tired of listening to messages that make them feel worse than when they started? To give the someone who makes those women laugh so hard they cry, a chance? To let someone who is committed (in more ways than one) get a shot at doing something she loves to do? You can find a million Sweet Jesus Girls out there, but there is only one Charlie. (can I get an amen?)


I hope that after reading this blog, you reconsider me for a contract. Cause I would love that. Then my darling husband would relax about the fact that I have a deep set need to write without payment for hours upon end. And I can justify my writing habit. Just know that even if you don’t offer me a contract, that won’t stop me from writing. Not now, not ever! It’s too late for that. To quote my bloggy buddy Marybeth Whalen, I will do it for “The Write Reason.” I am writing for HIM.

I cry out to God, my God, who fulfills HIS purpose for me. Psalm 57:2


Marching into my Jericho-
Charlie Hester
Emerging Author, Speaker, and all around Humorous Gal with a shrinking Butt
Committed to sharing laughter and the joy of the Lord to women everywhere!