Robin Finn's Blog

Embarking on your writing journey is both exciting and challenging. Whether you’re dreaming of publishing a novel, crafting short stories, or starting a blog, these five essential tips for beginner writers will set you on the right path. Writing is an art that evolves with practice, patience, and passion. Here’s how you can hone your skills and make your mark as a writer.

Reading is the cornerstone of good writing. By immersing yourself in different genres and styles, you’ll absorb diverse techniques and expand your vocabulary. Reading not only helps you understand the mechanics of storytelling but also inspires your own creative ideas. Don’t just stick to one genre—explore fiction, non-fiction, poetry, and even technical writing. The more you read, the more tools you’ll have in your writing toolkit.

Consistency is key when it comes to writing. Set aside time each day to write, even if it’s just for 15 minutes. The goal is to build a writing habit that becomes a natural part of your routine. Don’t worry about perfection at this stage; focus on getting words on the page. Over time, your writing will improve, and you’ll develop your unique voice. Remember, the more you write, the better you get.

As a beginner writer, it’s easy to fall into the trap of self-criticism. Understand that your first draft doesn’t need to be perfect. It’s simply the starting point. Give yourself permission to write without judgment, knowing that you can revise and polish later. Embracing the messiness of the first draft allows you to explore ideas freely and reduces the pressure to create something flawless right away.

Receiving feedback is crucial for growth. Share your work with trusted friends, fellow writers, or join a writing group where constructive criticism is encouraged. Listen to what others have to say, but don’t lose your voice in the process. Use feedback as a tool to refine your writing and to see your work from different perspectives. Remember, every piece of feedback is an opportunity to learn and improve.

Setting achievable writing goals helps you stay motivated and focused. Whether it’s completing a chapter, submitting a short story, or writing a blog post, small milestones keep you on track. Celebrate your progress, no matter how small it may seem. Acknowledge your accomplishments, and use them as fuel to keep moving forward. Writing is a journey, and every step counts.

Starting your writing journey can be daunting, but with these tips for beginner writers, you’ll find your way. Remember to read widely, write daily, embrace your first drafts, seek feedback, and set realistic goals. Writing is a craft that grows with you, and every word you write brings you closer to mastering it. So, pick up your pen or open that laptop—your story is waiting to be told.

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My dog provided me with a wonderful opportunity this morning to clean up my shit. I couldn’t help but notice the metaphor when it was staring me right in the face, or the nose, so to speak. I was walking with Brodie in the neighborhood and, not coincidentally, listening to Abraham and Esther Hicks on YouTube. Just when I was at the best part, an instrumental concept about aligning my vibration with that of my Inner Being, letting my enthusiasm for an idea be enough, and not forcing it—the exact message that I needed to hear—Brodie takes a dump. Right on the neighbor’s lawn.

The thing about Brodie is that he never dumps anywhere but at home. Never. So I’ve gotten into the lazy habit of never bringing a bag, and now I’m standing in front of my neighbor’s house with four dog logs lying on the grass and no bag.

I’m a good neighbor. I absolutely refuse to leave poop on a neighbor’s lawn. But it’s 8 in the morning and I hate to knock on the door and possible wake up the people inside or freak them out just to ask for a bag. Suddenly, I spy a local paper on the driveway next door. I walk over, gently remove the paper from the thin plastic bag, and place it on a dry spot of their driveway. Then I take the bag. Of course, it’s narrow and thin so I’m nervous and mad at myself for not bringing my own double-ply, blue bags but I use the narrow, skinny bag, pick up my dog logs, tie off the top, and start for home.

I hold the plastic bag in one hand and, with the other; I hit the play arrow on my iPhone so I can listen to Abraham and Esther as I walk back. I smile at the other dog walkers, morning gardeners, and people off to work. I listen to how to move out of impatience and let enthusiasm be enough. I swing the bag in my right hand while Brodie continues his sniff-fest. The world appears in sharp contrasts: the greens of the hedges, the blue of the sky, the black of the crows swooping by.

It caught me off guard when my dog took a dump and I was bag-less. My first response was to move into fear, helplessness, and a kind of despair. My dog took a crap! I don’t have a bag! There’s no one to ask! I’m a bad neighbor and I hate myself! But then, I looked around and my eye easily settled on a solution. Voilà! Plastic bag. Dog doo handled. As I approached my driveway, I found myself humming as I opened the brown lid of the garbage can and dropped in the bag. It’s true that ‘dog’ is ‘god’ spelled backwards. Thanks Brodie!

Last week, I watched an inspiring Tedx Talk by Mel Robbins. She said that if you have a creative idea, you have 5 seconds to act on it. After that, the idea vanishes right out of your head. This totally resonated for me. Lots of great ideas have vanished from my overstuffed brain as I sat in the kitchen with a ladle and a crockpot trying to come up with some dinner idea my kids would eat, and making a mental grocery list for my next trip to Trader Joe’s.

Later that afternoon, I was working on a voice memo (or “mom talk” as I call them) for one of my kids when a great  idea lodged in my brain. Wouldn’t it be great to make mom talks for myself? To remind myself of all of my amazing spiritual tools? To hear myself calmly guiding myself back to my center?  And I had a vision of me about to freak out over something one of the kid’s did (or didn’t do), or over the fridge leaking again, or over the damn dog peeing on the new shag rug again, and then NOT freaking out because I listened to my own mom talk and was miraculously transported into my Loving!!!

I grabbed my phone and recorded it– Thanks Mel!

The amazing thing was, it worked! The talk was less than one minute long. But after I listened to myself reminding me of the spiritual opportunities present, I experienced a massive shift in my energy and a sense of re-alignment. For me, this was a huge time-saver!  There are so many times I need to Work My Process over some issue about my work, the school, why my kid procrastinates, how my husband eats garlic before bedtime and it drives me crazy, but then I get sucked into the limiting belief that I don’t have time for spiritual upkeep.

Well, guess what? I do!

Even a time-challenged, my-life-is-a-shit-storm, crazed mom like me has ONE minute.

So here it is. This week’s debut One Minute to Sanity was inspired by a moment between my 17-year-old  daughter and me. I hope you enjoy!

Episode 1: Just Listen.  What would it be like if all my teenager really needed was for me to sit among her dirty laundry and listen? 

  (Hint: Showering is not required)

My first novel RESTLESS IN L.A. was just published! With three kids, finishing it was a near impossibility but I did it! Between you and me, I must admit that there were many responsibilities, hygienic habits, and personal grooming activities that went by the wayside. But the novel got finished! Hooray! Here are ten easy tips to say YES to your book and NO to (nearly) everything else:

1. Ignore the mail, email, phone calls, and texts.

These can wait. Note: DO pay property taxes and bills. And, try not to forget to send absence excuses to school for your sick kids or you WILL get a truancy notice…don’t ask me how I know this.

2. Retire from all lunch-making duties.

My youngest is 11 so this should be self-explanatory. Precious minutes spent stuffing pretzels into Ziploc bags and making turkey sandwiches could be better used to up your word count.

3. Detach kid and attach laptop…to your hip.

Invest in a laptop if at all possible. Take it everywhere including, but not limited to: soccer practice, orthodontic appointments, singing lessons, Bar Mitzvah training, batting practice, tennis lessons, Kuk Sool Won (the Korean martial arts my kid is into), Lacrosse practice, Mathnasium, etc.

4. Stay in your robe/pajamas all day.

Why bother getting dressed when your book is calling? My afternoon carpooling doesn’t start until 3 pm at which time I pull off my flannel pajama pants and throw on my Athleta gray sweatpants. Viola, I’m dressed!

5. Forget basic hygiene.

A few days (possibly totaling weeks) of not showering for a couple thousand words is well worth it!

6. Temporarily block Pinterest.

You know who you are. I love it, too. But this is nonnegotiable.

7. Make your kid/husband/the teen next door walk your dog.

My dog noses my leg and wanders in and out of my office and makes little cries like he wants me to pay attention to him and how is that supposed to help me come up with a brilliant idea? He knows when I’m blocked and I’m pretty sure he’s sending me ESP messages to give up and take him for a walk. So just get someone else to do it!

8. Just say NO. To volunteering.

The school dance, the class field trip, the annual gala will go on without you. Unless it’s research for your book, you don’t need to do it, hence the word: volunteer. Your book isn’t going to write itself. Time = word count.

9. WRITING RETREAT!

Check into the Agoura Sheraton (they take Starwood points) or your sister’s she-shed or your childhood bedroom at your parent’s house in Encino or anywhere that is not your home. Bring your laptop, notebook, a turkey sandwich, and a bag of M&Ms, and you’ve got a writing retreat! It’s amazing how much you can get done in a 24-hour period with no family members around.

10. Become a RUTHLESS PRIORITIZER.

#1 is Family. #2 is Writing. Ask yourself this question: Is this task required to keep my children alive? If yes, stop writing. Do it. If no, back to work!

I wanted to share this Q&A between my publicist Natalie Obando and me for her website: www.DoGoodPR.com. My hope is that other writers might find a nugget of inspiration from my circuitous journey to publication.

Natalie:  I hear authors give many excuses when it comes time to talk about getting published and why they aren’t yet. I hear it time and time again:

“I don’t have time.”

“I won’t get published.”

“I have REAL responsibilities.”

No matter what the excuse, the problem remains the same, you aren’t living your full potential.

I chat with writers all the time and the main reason they aren’t yet published authors is the fact that life just gets in the way for them. Kids, husband or wife, school, career, and so many more excuses tend to get in the way of your life-long dream of becoming a published author. This was also true for author Robin Finn, author of Restless In L.A.  Today she is celebrating her second week in a row as an Amazon Bestselling Author for her book, that she almost didn’t finish.

Take a look at her interview below to get some motivation and inspiration from someone who has been there and done that!

N: How did you find time to write as a wife/mother?

Robin: Writing the novel was the easy part. Once I began writing“Restless in L.A.,” it simply poured out of me, night and day, for months. I still refer to it as “the divine download” because it felt like something took over and all I could do was write. It was an effortless feeling of inspiration. But then came revisions. And queries. And letting people know I wrote a book. That was the hard part.

When I first came out of hiding as a novelist, the most frequent response from people was: Where did you find the time? Everyone who knew I wrote a book asked me that very question. Often accompanied by a look of incredulity. It’s true that I have three children and, in those days, they were all under the age of thirteen. It was a very hectic time of soccer practices, karate, singing lessons, and field-trip chaperoning. But once I made up my mind to write the book, I threw off the chains of resistance, and it was easy. I wrote at soccer practice, in my car, late at night after the kids were in bed, as I was waiting in reception at my children’s dental appointments. But when I started to believe finding writing time was hard, it got harder.

For me, and perhaps for all creative people, there is always resistance to doing your work. It’s like going to the gym. Even though you know you should, it’s hard to get there but once you do, the workout can be exhilarating. I love writing but once the first draft poured out, I suffered from tremendous resistance to keep going. It wasn’t just that people told me it must be hard; it was that I was looking for an excuse to stop. Deep down, I was afraid and unsure and scared. And now I had the perfect excuse to stop: I had no time.

A writing teacher once called the voice of self-sabotage an inner gremlin. I could see mine perfectly. He looked like a muppet with black fuzzy hair and a gold tooth. Once he saw my hesitation, once he could smell my uncertainty, he whispered in my ear all the reasons I could not write. One of his favorites was:You have three children and no time! Telling him to shut up didn’t work. I had to uncover the truth for myself. The truth was that I had time in my life to do the thing that mattered most and, for me, after my family came writing. Writing makes me feel on purpose. The mail may go unopened, I may go unshowered, and the kid’s reading logs may go unsigned, but there is time for me to write, if I prioritize it above all else, save my kids being alive and fed. Since then, I’ve made a sort of peace with my gremlin. I pat him on the head, give him an M&M cookie, and set him in front of Barney—and then I write.

N: What was your journey to finding a publisher?

Robin: My journey to publication was circuitous to say the least. I sent out dozens of cold queries that resulted in manuscript requests and, ultimately, I landed an agent. I was thrilled! But the follow up did not go as planned. My agent sent the novel out to the Big Five and then months went by—of silence. After the Big Five passed on my novel, my agent became fairly unresponsive and, eighteen months later, I decided to move on without her. I sent my book out to new agents but it problematic that the novel had already been shopped. Since this was my first foray into publishing, I hadn’t anticipated that. I had some nibbles but no offers of representation. I thought signing with an agent meant I was “on my way.” But, two years later, I was back at square one. I was depressed and dejected. My inner gremlin gloated. “I told you so,” he said. “Give it up and learn origami.”

While I was feeling low, I reached out to a writer friend. Over lunch, she told me I needed to decide if I wanted to see my novel published and then follow through with my decision. She reminded me that there were many publishing options beyond the Big Five. I had heard this before many times, but this time it got through. I didn’t want my novel to languish in my laptop. I wanted it out in the world. I was going to make that happen. As is so often the case, once I had a clear intention of what I wanted, the path became easy. I sent my book out to small publishers and then met Melissa Keir of Inkspell Publishing. She loved the book and offered me a contract. I signed with her and Restless in L.A. was released February 27th.

N: What is it like to work with a publicist?

Robin: No one is going to be more passionate about your book and your career than you are. To me, it just made sense to hire a publicist to help me create a strategy to get visibility for RESTLESS IN L.A. No one was going to read it if they didn’t know it existed. Even though I had worked in PR earlier in my career, book publicity was not my area of expertise. Working with a publicist was a great support. Not only did she design and execute a visibility plan, but she is an expert in promotion. As an author, that is not my wheelhouse. I believe that my willingness to invest in my novel and my writing career is the key to my success. Not only do I have a better chance of raising awareness of my book but it conveys to me, and to everyone else, that I take myself and my work seriously. I am invested in my success. I found a publicist who understood my goals and worked with me to create a budget and a plan that was a great fit. She also helped me figure out how to move forward, well after the launch activities end. I see my investment in publicity as a long-term strategy that will help me with this book—and the next one. And the one after that.

Some say a sexy book is better than a sexy man. With a sexy man, you have to worry about love handles, and messy pubic hair, and smooth legs, and whether or not your natural, not-breast-cancer-causing deodorant works. Not so with a sexy book. All you need is a finger to turn the pages (or swipe if you’re e-reading) and a pillow to lay your head on. You don’t even have to get dressed. A sexy book is a sure thing no matter if you’re wearing Costco underwear or ten-year-old Target sweatpants.

With a sexy book, you get to re-read the good parts: the swollen members, the stolen glances, the longing in the loins, all with a bowl of popcorn next to you or grapes or pretzels dipped in ranch. You can eat and read and wipe your nose all at the same time and never feel self-conscious or miss a minute of the romance.

And you don’t need privacy. You can be swept away while your kids sit on the couch watching Shark Tank or your husband scans CNN or all of the above.

If you read Amazon reviews carefully, you know exactly what you’re getting with a sexy book: chemistry, frustration, foreplay, and ultimately, a big release! You can’t get a guarantee like that with a human man, sexy or not. He doesn’t come with Amazon reviews but if he did and a hundred people gave him five stars, you’d think, Gross! No way! The guy probably has herpes!

But sexy men certainly have their virtues. They can be brilliant or gorgeous or their fingers on your skin make you shiver. Sometimes, people crave body heat and you need a live person for that. In real-life, there are sexy men who even take out the garbage and lock up the house and drive the kids to soccer practice and fill up the car with gas (if you’re really lucky). They don’t care about smooth legs or genital grooming or whether or not you put on mascara. You know them so well, right down to the mole on their left shoulder and the doctor’s appointment they have next Tuesday for their sciatica. These guys tend not to have deep, dark secrets, or old lovers hiding in the attic, or mistresses they keep in London.

Ah, but a sexy book comes with a sexy swashbuckling stranger for whom the sight of your ungloved hand or naked ankle causes a boner the size of a salami. He pops off the page and carries you away from the dog that needs to be walked and the laundry that needs to be folded, right at the moment when the sexy man you live with wants to review the bills or your health insurance or his mom’s invitation to dinner. Sexy books don’t have mothers-in-law. They just sit quietly next to your bed waiting for you—release guaranteed. In real life, that’s hard to come by. No pun intended.

My upcoming novel, Restless in L.A., features a sexy woman, a few sexy men, and, yes, as a sexy book…it delivers!

My goal for 2017 is to have more peace. What a year to choose that resolution! I crave inner peace and resist letting external circumstances affect my mood, my sense of safety, my blood pressure. When I draw from my center, I feel calm. But this year brings unique opportunities. It’s only January and I can see where the year is heading.

Now, more than ever, I wonder how I’m going to stay in balance in the midst of turmoil? Friends suggest limiting exposure to CNN, Facebook, or Fox News. This doesn’t feel right. Being informed is a value I hold dearer now than ever. So I have to ask myself: Can I tune in without freaking out? Can I be informed and not thrown off course? Can I hold my center in the middle of mayhem?

When life runs smoothly, the kids are thriving, the writing is flowing, the washer and dryer are working, the president seems mentally healthy, it’s easy to feel all is well on a personal level. When I look around and outer circumstances reflect my worldview, I have a larger sense of wellbeing. But what about when they don’t? The country and the world seem wildly off course. So how can I possibly experience inner peace?

Anyone who has dealt with personal struggle knows how hard it is to feel at peace when your home is not a peaceful place. As a parent, when I was in the depths of working with a struggling child, I realized that I would lose my mind if my inner wellbeing hinged on how his day went. It was hard not to let it. But it forced me to cultivate the peaceful “home” inside of myself. For me the path home was through writing. Writing became not only a way to ‘let it out’ but also a refuge from life’s storms. From that place, not only did I experience more inner serenity, I became a more peaceful parent. And, slowly, the calm inside our house grew, too.

Now, I have the opportunity to take that lesson and apply it in the larger context of world politics. My inner wellbeing can’t hinge on what I read or what I watch. I already know I will be a more effective advocate if I hold my center. Freaking out won’t help. A thoughtful, measured approach from a place of peace grounds me. It helps me dig beneath emotional upset to the place where authentic advocacy thrives. From that deepest place, the desire is simply for the best and highest good for all living things. This is a place of strength. And peace.

So where is this place? Once, when my oldest daughter was little, we sat down and drew our inner places of peace with colored markers. We gave each other gifts by drawing on each other’s papers. I drew a purple vase with pink and green flowers for her peaceful place. She drew an angel with yellow wings and a blue halo for mine. We taped the pictures onto the refrigerator. I’m sorry they are not still there.

But the peaceful place inside of me still exists. It’s timeless. Its existence does not depend on outer circumstances. When life runs smoothly, I may visit it less often. I may forget it’s there. I may even begin to think I feel calm because everything around me is going calmly. But, in truth, that is just a fluke. Sometimes life is even and then, suddenly, there’s an election and the world goes crazy. Not to mention, my personal life still marches on: my mom gets sick, the ceiling leaks, the dog throws up, homework is forgotten at home, bills have to be paid, the list is endless.

But my inner peace? It’s right where I left it. Inside.

When life feels like crashing waves, my first instinct is to become a grain of sand, tossed out to sea, thrown by the currents, and forced to shore, with no ability to self-regulate. I hate this feeling. Then, I remember there is another way. The inner room of peace beckons.

There are many paths to find your peace. Writing works for me. But, for many, the path includes yoga, meditation, reading, gardening, exercise, walking in nature, listening to music, etc. It doesn’t matter how you get there, it just matters that you go.

I often forget that my peace isn’t predicated on how anyone’s day goes or even the state of the nation. I am not a grain of sand at the mercy of the current. I can be present in my life, watch the news, read the paper, even ‘put my body where my beliefs are,’ and all the while, hold fast to my place of peace. I just have to remember to visit. Often. Now more than ever.

The year 2013 was a big one for Sara Bareilles���and me. She released Brave and I finished my first novel. I listened to Brave a thousand times. Every word struck my heart like a bull’s eye. Say what you want to say. And let the words fall out. Honestly. I want to see you be brave. When I printed out the last page of my book, I felt emboldened. But after the courage came the fear.

My inner gremlin said things like: I���m not good enough. My work isn���t worthy. There are already a million books in the world. What difference will mine make? I should do something more productive with my time. Maybe go to a PTA meeting? The list went on and on. As did the years.

I got and left a literary agent. My book received and lost interest from other agents and publishers. Then it sat in my laptop while I debated if I should give up and move on. One day in early 2016, years after I first heard Brave, I wondered what album it was from. To my shock and surprise, the album���s title was, The Blessed Unrest. My novel���s title is Restless in L.A. WTF?! Sara and I were both restless? We must be soul sisters! Fellow sufferers of chronic restlessness! Twins from another mother! Both of us chose three-word titles about restlessness; to me, the synchronicity was unbelievable.

It didn���t escape me that I���d listened to Brave for years. Why was I suddenly curious about the album? Why did the title seem so significant? In that moment, it felt like an unmistakable Sign, but was it? Who knows? Did it matter? I felt like it was. And I followed the feeling.

It reminded me of a scene in Restless in L.A. when the protagonist, Alexandra Hoffman, has a session with her life coach, Lark. She quizzes Lark on how to ask the Universe for guidance: ���The hard part,��� Lark said, polishing each word like a precious stone, ���isn���t the asking. It���s having the courage to hear the answer.���

Like Alex, I asked myself: Do I have the courage to hear the answer?

I reached out and asked a former writing teacher if we could meet and discuss my novel. Over lunch, I told her all of my fears. ���Restless in L.A. has a lot of sex,��� I said, ���A lot.��� ���So?” she answered. “Sex sells!” ���It has a morally ambiguous ending,��� I said. “Sounds great,” she answered, “Let people struggle with it.” ���The challenges I���ve faced raising a kid with severe ADHD are barely fictionalized,��� I blurted out. “Fabulous,��� she said. ���People need to read this.” I was out of excuses.

I went home, listened to Brave ten more times, wrote an email to a small publisher to whom I���d been introduced, attached a PDF of the novel, and hit send. Restless in L.A. is coming out on February 27th from Inkspell Publishing.

In 2016, an album title reminded me that my heartfelt dream was waiting to come true. On February 27, 2017, it is. The signs were in right in front of me for years, hidden by my fears. Sara kept telling me to let the words fall out. She titled her album similarly to my novel. She encouraged me over and over again to be Brave. In 2016, I was.

The year 2013 was a big one for Sara Bareilles—and me. She released Brave and I finished my first novel. I listened to Brave a thousand times. Every word struck my heart like a bull’s eye. Say what you want to say. And let the words fall out. Honestly. I want to see you be brave. When I printed out the last page of my book, I felt emboldened. But after the courage came the fear.

My inner gremlin said things like: I’m not good enough. My work isn’t worthy. There are already a million books in the world. What difference will mine make? I should do something more productive with my time. Maybe go to a PTA meeting? The list went on and on. As did the years.

I got and left a literary agent. My book received and lost interest from other agents and publishers. Then it sat in my laptop while I debated if I should give up and move on. One day in early 2016, years after I first heard Brave, I wondered what album it was from. To my shock and surprise, the album’s title was, The Blessed Unrest. My novel’s title is Restless in L.A. WTF?! Sara and I were both restless? We must be soul sisters! Fellow sufferers of chronic restlessness! Twins from another mother! Both of us chose three-word titles about restlessness; to me, the synchronicity was unbelievable.

It didn’t escape me that I’d listened to Brave for years. Why was I suddenly curious about the album? Why did the title seem so significant? In that moment, it felt like an unmistakable Sign, but was it? Who knows? Did it matter? I felt like it was. And I followed the feeling.

It reminded me of a scene in Restless in L.A. when the protagonist, Alexandra Hoffman, has a session with her life coach, Lark. She quizzes Lark on how to ask the Universe for guidance: “The hard part,” Lark said, polishing each word like a precious stone, “isn’t the asking. It’s having the courage to hear the answer.”

Like Alex, I asked myself: Do I have the courage to hear the answer?

I reached out and asked a former writing teacher if we could meet and discuss my novel. Over lunch, I told her all of my fears. “Restless in L.A. has a lot of sex,” I said, “A lot.” “So?” she answered. “Sex sells!” “It has a morally ambiguous ending,’ I said. “Sounds great,” she answered, “Let people struggle with it.” “The challenges I’ve faced raising a kid with severe ADHD are barely fictionalized,” I blurted out. “Fabulous,” she said. “People need to read this.” I was out of excuses.

I went home, listened to Brave ten more times, wrote an email to a small publisher to whom I’d been introduced, attached a PDF of the novel, and hit send. Restless in L.A. is coming out on February 27th from Inkspell Publishing.

In 2016, an album title reminded me that my heartfelt dream was waiting to come true. On February 27, 2017, it is. The signs were in right in front of me for years, hidden by my fears. Sara kept telling me to let the words fall out. She titled her album similarly to my novel. She encouraged me over and over again to be Brave. In 2016, I was.