My Holiday Wish

Two more days. I keep telling myself I will survive, but at the moment, it seems impossible. I didn’t mail out cards this year. I figured if I start now, people might keel over from the sheer shock of it all. There’s last minute shopping to be done, and the wrapping . . .  sweet Beezus, the wrapping. While I adore spoiling the pygmy humans in my family, there is much to be said about having an entire room stuffed FULL of presents.

Every year, I promise myself I am going to scale back . . . and every year I end up here.

I often wonder how Christmas became so insane. So stressful. It certainly didn’t feel this way as a kid. There has to be more to it than the fact that it wasn’t my wallet taking the heavy hits. Where did the magic go? That warm sense of wonder that used to fill everything, until the entire world felt like it was bursting at the seams with love and excitement?

I miss that.

I take sincere joy out of giving. The entire process makes me smile, from picking out special presents, to the wrapping and unwrapping and the grins that follow. There’s something to be said for making someone’s day, or even a minute just a little brighter. I would rather feel that bliss than receive anything in return. But (and there’s always a but, isn’t there?) it never feels like it’s enough. Despite that room brimming with gifts, I want to give more. There are still things I would like to buy. It honestly feels as if all the presents in the world could not cover, or even begin to express the love I have for those I hold dear. The precious pygmy humans who brighten my day with their smiles, the parents who have given me so much, sacrificed so much, and ultimately shaped me into who I am. (For better or for worse, they tried and did the best they had with what they had to work with here people!)

My friends, the countless people who read my work or support me in any number of ways . . .

It’s. Just. Not. Enough.

How do you package love? Gratitude? Any emotion that cuts clear down through your heart and soul and nestles into bone?

You can’t. You can only bleed yourself dry trying. I do . . .  and I only wish I could do more.

I have come to realize that the most precious gift we can give anyone is ourselves. Our love, our understanding, our compassion—our willingness to take time out of our day and spend it with another. These are things that can never be bought or sold, but they are the only gifts that keep on giving. The ones that will never wither, break, or expire with the passing of time. These are the things on which we are forged, and the only things that will remain, even after we are gone. Love and the memories we share.

I wish you all a very wonderful holiday season. I hope your memories are good ones that will fill your hearts with joy for many years to come, and may you and your loved ones brim with hope, joy, and love.

~Best wishes always~

Where's the Panic Button?

Hello, Darlings!

It’s been a while since I gave a personal update. I am sure you are all grateful, but the time for gratitude has come to an end. Believe me—after this post those of you who can do so without combusting will probably pray that I revert back to a state of sullen silence.

I’ve been quiet with good reason, you see. No, one of the minions did not escape and ply my mouth with duct tape, though that would have been fun, would it not? I’ve hit the final stretch of my novel. We are talking mere teens when it comes to word count. While most would see this as a cause for mass celebration, I’ve done little but panic. And write…and panic some more. Not to mention the cleaning and shopping sprees that I use by means of procrastination. 

Why can I not have one of these?

I wonder what pressing it does. Would the world end? Would the ceiling open up and vast amounts of confetti and glitter rain down in a sparkly shower? Hmm…perhaps blood. Yes, that’s it. Blood and feathers. Surely panic looks like the inside of a chicken coop once the fox slips in and all the birds realize they are about to fall victim to a slaughter. *small smirk*  Poor little dears.

As for me, I am wondering how to wrap things up. I’m struggling with how to tie up loose ends without cinching them off completely. It is not something I’ve had to do before, but a second book is already begging to be written, and perhaps a third before these characters have had their full say. I don’t think anyone would complain. Seir is quite amusing between his contradictions and sarcasm. Not to mention his unique take on the world and its occupants in general.

I must find a way to be a clever, clever girl and present this in a way that it could stand on its own, yet beckons to readers to return for a second helping. PANIC. I don’t even want to think about marketing right now, or where to turn when it is all said and done. All of this is truly beyond my ability to comprehend at the moment.

Hell, the mere thought of ME actually finishing a novel, let alone in under a year is unthinkable. Brace yourselves, darlings. This may very well be a sign of an impending apocalypse. I’m sure those who know me will agree.

In the meantime, feel free to share any input, as well as your stories about that shiny red button and what it might do! I truly AM curious.

~Best wishes always~