Not A Fire Exit, the suspense novel written by Christopher Finlan, has been optioned for a motion picture! As you may remember, Chris and his Milverstead Publishing have been generously donating a portion of all proceeds of Not A Fire Exit and several other Milverstead publications (The Jeffrey Journey and Tracy's Story — the Other Side of the Coin) to SMA organizations, including the Gwendolyn Strong Foundation. This latest excitement is no surprise to us as Chris is one of the most motivated people we have ever met and, in just a year, has accomplished the amazing. And in all of this movie buzz one thing that Chris is still focused on is helping SMA, insisting that the baby in the undercurrent of the story have Spinal Muscular Atrophy, just as in his novel. There is still a lot to be done before SMA can hit the big screen, but we are very excited about everything Chris has created. Thank you Chris for championing SMA, for going for your dreams, and taking us all along the ride!
You can read the official press release here.
And to get to know Chris a little more and what his whirlwind year has been like, we asked if we could share the post he wrote on the Not A Fire Exit blog:
Most people make New Year's resolutions and give them up before the month is even through. I've done that many times myself. I've made a list of everything I wanted to do, then ticked off one or two easy ones and tossed the rest of the list aside, satisfied with what I had actually accomplished.
But there really was no sense of accomplishment with the easy tasks, no
sense of achieving a goal, no sense of taking what seemed like an impossible task and making that task possible.
However, one year ago today, I started writing a book and it only took one day to finish the first chapter. I had someone (not related to me and who didn't owe me money) read it and they thought it wasn't bad and encouraged me to keep going with it. And so I did. Unlike my past resolutions, I actually kept with it to the point where my story turned into a (self-)published piece called Not A Fire Exit.
And actually accomplishing what seemed to be an impossible task, made me learn quite a few things, not only about myself, but just how much of a difference a year can make.
See –
One year ago, I was ready to give up on the life I'd built to try and start
a new life in Texas. Alone.
Today, I've learned that trying something new doesn't mean you have to give up on those whom love and care for you to do so.
One year ago, I wondered if my life was a failure.
Today, as I look at my beautiful wife and my two children in our lovely
home, I wonder why I ever thought that of my life.
One year ago, I couldn't figure out what my wife saw in me.
Today, I'm glad she still sees it, whatever it is.
One year ago, I admired my brother's hard work and determination, and wished I could be more like him.
Today, I admire my brother's ability to make the hard choices that separate failure from success and wish I could be more like him.
One year ago, I'd never had to fire anyone.
Today, I've had to fire more than one person and it hurts every time.
One year ago, I was frustrated with my job and didn't see any possible
career path that would make me happy.
Today, I am at the same company, but I'm doing a number of things there in a new position that I enjoy, find challenging and rewarding – all of which that make me quite happy to have that job.
One year ago, I thought I knew the friends that were most important to me and whom cared for me the most.
Today, I've drifted away from some friends, but made new friends who have given more of themselves than I thought any friends could.
One year ago, I thought being diagnosed with ADD was something that had ruined my life.
Today, I think having ADD is something that has helped my life.
One year ago, I didn't know about Spinal Muscular Atrophy.
Today, I don't know how people cannot know about this terrible disease and do everything possible to cure it.
One year ago, I had never heard about Victoria, Bill or Gwendolyn Strong.
Today, I flew over 3000 miles this month just to meet these extraordinary people face to face.
One year ago, I'd never heard of Helen Baldwin or her son, Jeffrey.
Today, I realize I must have been the only one!
One year ago, Zane Schmid was still alive.
Today, I believe she still is.
One year ago, I felt like I disappointed people more often than not.
Today, I've learned that by promising to please everyone, I end up pleasing no one.
One year ago, I never thought I could write a book.
Today, almost 1500 people have read a book I wrote and some even like
it.
One year ago, I would have bet you one million dollars that a book I wrote being made into multi-million dollar movie by a filmmaker living in Beverly Hills would never happen.
Today, I would have lost that bet.
One year ago, I wanted desperately to make a difference in the world.
Today, I still do.
That day when I sat down to write a book–my life changed. And so did
countless other days that followed. All this change in one year, just
because I sat down on the same couch, in the same basement and decided it wasn't too late to do something different: accomplishing an impossible goal.
And I was right. It's never too late.
Chris
