Today we’d like to introduce you to Christine Sharp
Hi Christine, so excited to have you on the platform. So before we get into questions about your work-life, maybe you can bring our readers up to speed on your story and how you got to where you are today?
I’m from a lower-middle class family, the kind who qualify for food assistance programs but never go hungry. We didn’t have excess, but we always had enough. I grew up with an awareness of scarcity but at the same time with huge amounts of joy and contentment. It was the perfect balance to teach me to be grateful for what I have, while at the same time showing me how little I actually need.
Though my parents’ income increased as I grew older, that mindset remained. I’m now the wife and mother in a solidly middle class family: the kind who need to be careful of the monthly budget but who can afford to take a trip for our tenth anniversary. I am now an author, as well, of young adult fantasy.
The mindset of simultaneous scarcity and contentment have developed me as a writer, in giving me the ability to work with what I have as well as making me aware of how much I do, in fact, have. The fact that I have carsickness, for one example, has been a huge asset for me as a writer. It forced me, ever since babyhood, to look out the window whenever I’m in a car. I’ve never been able to “do” anything while in the car, or to entertain myself on road trips with anything I could bring with me. But I was never bored. Have you ever realized how much you can see if you take the time to look? No amount of external resources could have given me the same breadth of observation, nor the same time for my imagination to play, as the fact that I was a carsick kid and am a carsick adult. That is quite an asset for developing the mind and imagination of a writer.
In fact, every thing in my life that could be seen as a detriment is also an asset. I have chronic migraines, among other health issues, but even that has been an asset in many ways. It has kept my mind from outrunning itself, in keeping me in a place of gratitude for the little things. If I felt well all the time, I’m sure I would come up with things to pine for, or things to be upset about, that don’t matter in the long run. Being grateful for a few pain-free hours keeps me joyful. The scarcity of feeling well is an asset, in that it makes me grateful for existence itself, rather than needing something else to make life worth living.
As I say that, though, I’m realizing that I already have the thing that is better than anything else, so maybe my contentment comes more from my relationship with God than from external circumstances. I’ve been a follower of Jesus as long as I can remember—my earliest memories are of talking to God and feeling him answer. He is always there, and he always gives me what I need. I have never lacked anything important (food, shelter, or love), and the fact that my needs are met but I have never had huge amounts of excess keeps my wants from running counter to my needs. If I had too much, my wants would become distorted, and they may in fact leave me with unmet needs in favor of wants. God has provided that balance for me from my earliest years, making it easy now for me to be joyfully grateful for what I have, and to enjoy living for its own sake.
I’m sure it wasn’t obstacle-free, but would you say the journey has been fairly smooth so far?
My life has not been a smooth road, but as I said before, it has been a joyful one. I have many health issues, which mean I am in pain most of the time. My physical limitations make it so I cannot do a lot of what I would like to be able to do, but I love my life. I’m not surprised by pain, as it would seem that many are. That may be because I’ve had chronic pain since childhood.
I broke a lot of bones as a kid, including a skull fracture at seven years old. I developed migraines in middle school, which grew in frequency to the point of becoming chronic by high school. I wasn’t emotionally bothered by it, though. I wasn’t surprised by the pain.
Have you ever noticed how tough kids are? Children take life as it comes. They cry when they get hurt, but they are absurdly able to endure real hardship. It is only as adults that we become unwilling to accept difficult things.
I know adults who are completely overcome by chronic pain—overcome more emotionally than physically. They have become miserable people, emotionally punitive to their families, depressed, and suicidal. If my chronic pain began as an adult, I may have been the same. But because my pain began in childhood, I accepted it as a child, so I have simultaneously maintained a child’s joy of life.
Children are not wearied by life—they are bursting with the joy of it. It is not until adulthood that we become weary of life. At the same time, children are willing to accept hardship, whereas adults are not. It is interesting to me that as we become unwilling to accept pain we become weary of life. We will have pain, everyone does. But the acceptance of it is the difference between joy and weariness.
As you know, we’re big fans of you and your work. For our readers who might not be as familiar what can you tell them about what you do?
I am a Young Adult Fantasy author. My debut novel: Elwyn, Heir of the Eudaimonians was published in November of last year (2024).
Sixteen-year-old Elwyn is Gifted, so she’s hunted by her nation’s immortal Sovereign. She and her best friend Neilan flee the safehouse they’ve been protected—and imprisoned—in since childhood. When the Sovereign’s men close in on her, she can save herself or sacrifice her freedom to protect another.
More than anything, Elwyn is about resilience. There are plenty of ways people respond to pain, many of which are destructive to themselves and others. The trauma cycle is exactly that: one person experiences trauma, and in response to the trauma that person hurts another person, which means that second person now has experienced trauma. That second person responds to the trauma by hurting another person, and so on.
There are, however, ways to respond to pain that lead to healing for oneself and others. One of these ways is through community relationships. Recognizing one’s own pain, facing it for what it truly is (rather than either avoiding it or wallowing in it), accepting it, and in turn recognizing that others have pain, too. When a person recognizes that another person is in pain, it is easier to have compassion for that person and patience with that person’s faults. It is easier to recognize that when that person is unkind, or responds poorly to a situation, it has to do with that person’s inner struggles rather than the outward situation. Rather than responding to the person’s actions, one can acknowledge and respond to the pain underneath the actions.
Elwyn responds to her hardship in the usual way, first: that is, hurting another person. That action causes a third person to be hurt—the trauma cycle. When she realizes what damage she has caused, she desperately wants to undo it. But once a thing is done, it is done. She cannot undo the hurt she has caused, she can only move on in a better way. She learns to notice others’ pain, and to respond by helping instead of hurting, to build up instead of break down.
In many fantasy stories, as well as other genres, the way to defeat the villain is to kill, or at least hurt, him/her. In this story, the villain cannot be personally killed or hurt in any way. Rather than breaking down one individual (the villain), Elwyn must defeat the villain by building up others.
“Eudaimonia” is a term coined by Aristotle to name his theory of human flourishing. In his theory of eudaimonia, Aristotle defined what he believed human flourishing looks like, and how humanity can reach the state he described. In the millennia since Aristotle’s time, many have developed their own theories of eudaimonia. This story, and the subsequent series, communicates my definition of human flourishing as well as my theory for how humanity can reach it.
Any big plans?
I outlined the four-book series in detail before writing Elwyn, and I’m now beginning to write the second book in the series: Lyni, Heir of the Eudaimonians Book Two.
Considering that it took me ten years to finish Elwyn, including many, MANY rewrites, I am intimidated by the idea of beginning again. I’ve learned a lot over the years of writing Elwyn, so hopefully that will streamline the process for this second novel. But even so, I’m intimidated.
In the process for Elwyn, each complete draft took me six months to a year. I wrote many drafts, which is why it took ten years from start to finish. I’m hoping for fewer drafts this time around, but I cannot guarantee to myself that I won’t need many rewrites.
However, I care more about creating worthwhile art than making it quickly. That’s an important thing for me to keep in mind as I face the daunting task of starting over. At this point, all I can do is take the step in front of me: I can write, and leave the emotions behind.
It is the emotions—the feelings of intimidation and fear—that hold me back. I have several options here: I can respond by avoiding the thing that triggers the emotion, I can respond by wallowing in the emotion until it paralyzes me, I can turn the emotion into fuel to lash out at another person. Or I can take what Elwyn learned and put it in practice for myself: I can face the emotion, acknowledge that it is a legitimate fear (this might take a very long time, like the first one did), and start doing it anyway.
That last one is what I plan to do. I’m not perfectly in control of myself, though, so I need to be aware of my tendencies as I begin this endeavor. I need to be intentional about noticing if I’m becoming avoidant, or if I’m becoming grumpy with my family, and realize that those emotional behaviors are the result of the fact that I’m nervous about writing the next book.
Pricing:
- Elwyn E-book: $2.99
- Elwyn Paperback: $12.99
- Elwyn Hardback: $24.99
Contact Info:
- Website: https://www.christinesharpbooks.com
- Other: Book available on Amazon: https://a.co/d/aUZyhh5
