Christmas and Writing.
This time of the year is unbelievably busy. Of course if you are Santa or an elf it is worse, but for me it has been increasingly getting more difficult to keep everything going as it should. In the midst of the Holiday season it has been hard to hold down a full time job, fight with a college on credits for graduation with a Bachelor's Degree in Nursing and try to find time to decorate for the Christmas holiday and still have time to shop and to write. It has been maddening.
I am close to finishing my second Novel and hope to have it to a publisher by the first of the year. Assuredly it is going to be a struggle and with the impatience that I have it's worse. For a women that has never had any patience, being born two months early hasn't changed. I am still impatient and I have a problem I have found with control. I like control, obviously something I hadn't realized until recently. I also like the thought of success and seem to chase what ever dream that I haven't captured yet.
In the writing game its is hurry up and wait. I am not a big fan of that. In the world of instant gratification I have gotten worse. I wasn't a child that had everything and I wasn't raised with a silver spoon. On the contrary, I was born to a military man/ farmer and a homemaker. I was raised in a two bedroom home on a farm in the country in which I was later raised with two of my cousins who also shared my room for a short time. To say the least my father lived in an estrogen ocean. I was an only child and found ways to entertain myself. Lets face it my mother couldn't play with me 24, 7 so I had to find something to do. I was like any other kid, I played with my dolls, animals, which were cats and or dogs, playing house, school or with my Barbie's. The older I got , it went to music and writing.
In high school I was a writing fool. At that time I remembered the rules of grammar and could spell a little more accurately. I loved English Lit and in College , English Comp. Writing on themes in school was one of my favorite things to do. The teacher most of the time had more than one to pick from so I would take the one that most suited my mood. The one I chose in College was the first Christmas I remembered. Without being to sappy, I wrote about one I remembered when I was a child . My mother wasn't working and my father was a farmer. In the mid 60's and early 70's it was a difficult time for my parents but they always seemed to make a nice Christmas for me. I wanted a Barbie that year. A Barbie then was an expense, a big one. It was a brand name toy, but it was something my mother knew that I wanted. Christmas morning that year I got what I thought was a Barbie, it was actually a Polly, but I loved her as much as if she had been the real thing. Her hair was long, blond and straight, she wore what was then called go-go boots and a short skirted dress which most remember as a mini skirt. I didn't only get her that year I had a majorette outfit and clown punching bag that I can remember telling the Santa in Stiffler's Store at that time, I wanted for him to bring. It was one of the best ones I can remember.
This year I think on all the things that I have seen and done for holidays and I miss the feeling of being a kid and the feeling the magic of what Christmas meant, Believing in what you can't see but knowing it's there, even if you see it or touch it. Just because you can't see something or feel it, doesn't mean it doesn't exist. The Spirit of Christmas is still there, it's just buried behind the loss of a job, world media that has commercialized it to death, and the depression of building into something that it never was to start with.
I am close to finishing my second Novel and hope to have it to a publisher by the first of the year. Assuredly it is going to be a struggle and with the impatience that I have it's worse. For a women that has never had any patience, being born two months early hasn't changed. I am still impatient and I have a problem I have found with control. I like control, obviously something I hadn't realized until recently. I also like the thought of success and seem to chase what ever dream that I haven't captured yet.
In the writing game its is hurry up and wait. I am not a big fan of that. In the world of instant gratification I have gotten worse. I wasn't a child that had everything and I wasn't raised with a silver spoon. On the contrary, I was born to a military man/ farmer and a homemaker. I was raised in a two bedroom home on a farm in the country in which I was later raised with two of my cousins who also shared my room for a short time. To say the least my father lived in an estrogen ocean. I was an only child and found ways to entertain myself. Lets face it my mother couldn't play with me 24, 7 so I had to find something to do. I was like any other kid, I played with my dolls, animals, which were cats and or dogs, playing house, school or with my Barbie's. The older I got , it went to music and writing.
In high school I was a writing fool. At that time I remembered the rules of grammar and could spell a little more accurately. I loved English Lit and in College , English Comp. Writing on themes in school was one of my favorite things to do. The teacher most of the time had more than one to pick from so I would take the one that most suited my mood. The one I chose in College was the first Christmas I remembered. Without being to sappy, I wrote about one I remembered when I was a child . My mother wasn't working and my father was a farmer. In the mid 60's and early 70's it was a difficult time for my parents but they always seemed to make a nice Christmas for me. I wanted a Barbie that year. A Barbie then was an expense, a big one. It was a brand name toy, but it was something my mother knew that I wanted. Christmas morning that year I got what I thought was a Barbie, it was actually a Polly, but I loved her as much as if she had been the real thing. Her hair was long, blond and straight, she wore what was then called go-go boots and a short skirted dress which most remember as a mini skirt. I didn't only get her that year I had a majorette outfit and clown punching bag that I can remember telling the Santa in Stiffler's Store at that time, I wanted for him to bring. It was one of the best ones I can remember.
This year I think on all the things that I have seen and done for holidays and I miss the feeling of being a kid and the feeling the magic of what Christmas meant, Believing in what you can't see but knowing it's there, even if you see it or touch it. Just because you can't see something or feel it, doesn't mean it doesn't exist. The Spirit of Christmas is still there, it's just buried behind the loss of a job, world media that has commercialized it to death, and the depression of building into something that it never was to start with.
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