Christina Rauh Fishburne shared their story and experiences with us recently and you can find our conversation below.
Hi Christina, thank you for taking the time to reflect back on your journey with us. I think our readers are in for a real treat. There is so much we can all learn from each other and so thank you again for opening up with us. Let’s get into it: What battle are you avoiding?
My oldest child is eyeballs deep in college applications. And by him I mean us. We are eyeballs deep. We’re in the tall grass. We can’t see the sun. All we see are a series of apps, logins, and links so unending and so confusing it’s almost a comfort to do my taxes. But we’ll figure it out. As will the poor souls we’re asking for letters of recommendation who now have to navigate the same apps, logins, and links that belong in the Infinity Castle of Demon Slayer. I worry about the applications. I’m nervous the letters won’t log correctly and admissions won’t know how amazing my son is. I’m apprehensive for my son. I have significant concerns for myself… I’ve had to change my prayers. I can’t say “Please watch over my babies” or “Please give the kids peace.” I can’t refer to them as small, can’t have their round preschool faces in my head. Or I’ll lose it. I have to pray for them by name, as if they are separate beings from me capable of fighting their battles, dealing with their own taxes, facing their own demons. I need help letting them go. I have to pray as if I’m the child now.
Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
I’m a writer and an artist, doing neither full time or for pay, but doing both because they fulfill me in a way nothing else does. I’ve published online, with small presses, and on my own. I’ve illustrated classic novels and collaborated with artists, writers, and musicians around the world. Collaborating is my great joy at the moment. My brother, musician Charlie Rauh, and I have worked together for almost seven years on album release projects, cover art, and most recently his book Simply, Patiently, Quietly which is a beautiful meditative book on creativity, joy, and finding your way back to what’s been lost. It includes notation of his music, some of which inspired by my own writing, and my pen and ink illustrations. We’ve done several talks together on our creative process and the vital place we feel creativity has in each person’s life. I’ve also spoken about my art with coillustrator Kirsty Maclennan during the launch of The Crow Emporium Press’s illustrated edition of Bram Stoker’s Dracula in Whitby, England. Whether it’s writing and illustrating a children’s book to coincide with a soundtrack written by Icelandic musician Inga Bjork Ingadottir, or writing a personal essay about Anne Bronte’s influence on my life for an anthology celebrating her with twelve other enthusiasts in Walking With Anne Bronte, edited by Tim Whittome, I am always happiest discovering what’s buried inside me while engaging with other creatives.
Thanks for sharing that. Would love to go back in time and hear about how your past might have impacted who you are today. What was your earliest memory of feeling powerful?
When I was very little I was running down a hill at a playground while holding my father’s hand. He wore a scratchy wool coat checkered in varying shades of brown. I remember seeing the trees in front of me– and flying because my father was running beside me and lifting me from the ground simply by holding my hand. That memory surfaces often because I love watching the hawks here in Maryland. I love the idea of soaring, of using a power that’s already there to move yourself. Faith is central to my life. I’m fortunate to have grown up with parents who nurtured us in that so I’m able to easily know God as a Father. When times get difficult or scary, when I’m sad or discouraged, when I’ve wanted to hide or run away I turn to God… eventually. There’s usually a period of hand wringing, wailing, gnashing of teeth, and stomping of feet. But after that I remember I don’t have to power through on my own. I’m a terrible runner. But when I run with my Father I can fly.
When did you stop hiding your pain and start using it as power?
In 2013 I was in a pretty gross hotel room in Hawaii, curled up in a bed having a second miscarriage while my husband was on the mainland and my two small children played in the adjoining room. I had written 2 or 3 blog entries in the weeks before in an attempt to turn my endless complaints into art. Things had not gotten better; in fact, they were now the worst they had ever been. As I navigated that horror, alone, with no support system, I learned weakness and pain are doors. If I keep them closed to protect myself I only end up suffocating on my own inadequacies and fears. If I leave them open to hope and uncertainty it’s possible to see something good come of them. Not every time. But more times than I expect. Writing about pain and frustration is what I do on my blog, but only with that door open. I only write when I have something to say, something I think someone else might want to hear. We are rarely the only people to ever feel. If we have to feel sadness, let’s feel it together. If we have to feel horror, let there be something to laugh it. God and Humor. I can’t live without them.
Next, maybe we can discuss some of your foundational philosophies and views? What’s a cultural value you protect at all costs?
I protect childhood at all costs. So much so that I’ve probably done several disservices to my children. My second grader didn’t know what a computer mouse was when he left a Montessori school and entered a public one. My 10 year old may or may not still believe in Santa. You want to trick or treat? SO DO I. I won’t let my teenagers get a job because they have the rest of their lives to work and they only have nine months and two years left of being a kid. We are incredibly fortunate to have childhood. It must not be squandered.
Thank you so much for all of your openness so far. Maybe we can close with a future oriented question. If you knew you had 10 years left, what would you stop doing immediately?
If I only had 10 years left I would stop querying for agents and submitting stories to contests and forever being on the lookout for someone who might give me a chance. I would print all my novels on Amazon for nothing and move on to the next idea when it comes. If it comes. Instead of trying to make my Instagram account give impressions of success I would take pictures of myself with my family and post them nowhere. I’d write letters to my kids. The dream would change. It would no longer be “get published.” It would be “love well.” It sounds stupid. Corny. Trite. I hate that I changed my dream only because I had 10 years to live. I hate that I can’t promise I’ll change it today.
Contact Info:
- Website: www.christinarauhfishburne
- Instagram: @Christina_Rauh_Fishburne
- Linkedin: Christina Fishburne
- Facebook: Christina Rauh Fishburne, Writer
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