Things have picked up on the writing front. As of this writing, Christmas is at a record-high 90% SAVED rating, which as allowed me to get a few things done here and there!

First, I completed a 3,000 word short story titled “The Most Wonderful Time of the Year.” I am so entrenched in the Christmas cheer that I can’t stop writing about it. The story focuses on a young mother and her daughter who have been protected (unbeknownst to them) for years by the angel on their Christmas tree. Things go to hell in a handbasket when the angel is lost in the basement and not in her proper place at the top of the tree…

(Side note — I had a friend in college who was convinced he’d coined the phrase “to hell in a handbasket” and I had to gently remind him that was bulls**t).

I’ve always been obsessed with the idea of ghost stories at Christmas time, as was the tradition in Victorian England. This has inspired a series of blog posts on I Know What I Know about paranormal experiences I’ve had over the years.

I also crapped out a couple of Christmas-themed poems, one about how all of our traditions for this Christian holiday were stolen from pagans, and the other about how Christmas magic fades as you grow up, but is reborn once you have children of your own. I’ve almost filled up my poetry notebook, and when I’m done I think I’m going to self-publish it. Just to give them a home. Because I’m not much of a poet, but writing poetry has made me a much more vivid writer. My descriptions often get praise from my readers, and this is because I try to describe things poetically and say it in a new way. I don’t want my little thought-nuggets to float around in my piles of notes and old writings forever when they could have a nice tidy little book to live in.

Lastly, I’ve been thinking a lot about journaling lately. I still keep a journal, but it’s not much more than just a list of things I’ve been doing or thinking for the past few months. I don’t write in it any more often than that. Mostly, I pour my creative journaling energies into a logbook I’m keeping for my daughter of all of her milestones and developments. I don’t write in that one as often as I should…

It’s weird — I used to go back and read my journals fairly often. Maybe because now the pile of notebooks is 24-25 years long, but I don’t have that desire anymore to marinate in a sauce of myself. I’m not sure what would be gained from looking back, and with so little time, I’d rather push my writing career. Yet I can’t see myself ever not keeping a journal…

Anyway. Happy holidays to everyone, be safe, and spread the love.