There’s something magical about a holiday that turns your normally sane individual into a manic shopping/cookie baking crazy person. We hit the ground running on Thanksgiving and everything else in our lives is on hold for 30 days while we shop, bake, wrap, eat, and decorate our way through December.
The last few weeks I’ve made 5 batches of cookies, most of which were given away.
I’ve braved the mall to help my friend’s husband Christmas shop for her. I’ve braved Kohl’s and Target for my own Christmas shopping list. I’ve shopped online at Amazon and eBay. I’ve wrapped many of these things and shipped them back home to my family in Wisconsin.
I’ve managed to find time to have a Christmas mani/pedi. That’s a Christmas tree on my toe and the Grinch on my finger. Admittedly, it looks a little more like Oscar the Grouch but they’re both green and ornery, so I think it still works.
A week before Christmas and all I have left is to get the ham for Christmas dinner and I’m all set. For the past few weeks I’ve been making time to get these things done. I let the DVR tape all my TV programs, I stopped exercising, I gave up my naps and my Facebook games went untouched. All for Christmas.
So I know it can be done. If I can do it for Christmas, why is it so difficult to set aside those same hours for writing? I love shopping but I hate waiting in long lines during the holidays. I like baking, but I find cookie making terribly tedious. And yet, I am able to make myself do these things. I’m excited about the story I have to tell, but I have the hardest time making myself sit down to write. I can stand in a line at the post office to spend horrifying amounts of money to ship packages full of presents I won’t get to see opened, but I can’t sit down and write about a character whose life I wonder about every day?
Maybe it’s because all my Christmas activities I’m doing for others. I don’t want to disappoint my niece or my best friend by not having a gift under the tree for them. I don’t want my co-workers to think I don’t appreciate them if I can’t give them a little treat.
Writing is just for me and it’s always easy to put yourself last. Why wouldn’t you go shopping with your daughter for a prom dress when all you really want to do is get a massage and relax? Why not volunteer to handle the neighborhood rummage sale instead of spending the day working on [insert hobby of choice]. We don’t want to let anyone down but often, we end up letting ourselves down.
If I could figure out a way to bottle the Christmas manic shopping/cookie baking crazy person thing and mix in a bit of taking care of myself…think of what I could accomplish. Once I figure it out, I promise I’ll share.
I’ll write a book about it…