Christmas can make you crazy. Frantic. Maybe you buy a bunch of stuff you don’t need, spend too much money then freak out so much you can’t actually enjoy yourself. So, don’t do that. Maybe family makes you nuts but you travel across the country during the busiest travel time of the year anyway, only to have a panic attack at the dinner table on Christmas eve — try to avoid this. Perhaps you enjoy every minute, stress and all. Bless you if you do.
I’m middle of the road and leaning towards just enjoying all of it. Kids make it so fun. They love Christmas and all it has to offer. It’s tough not to smile when they come down and spaz out over what the magical old man from the North Pole has delivered.
It does get crazy with obligations and the amount of actual time one has in a day. Still, I won’t complain. Nope. Hopefully we get to play in the snow as well.
Enjoy the days off, if you have them. Watch the show unfold if you don’t. It comes once a year, and the robots are coming regardless.
I’m predisposed to having a scattered brain. Things seem like they are all over the floor every day and I have to pick them up and put them where they need to go. At the end of the day, most of the time, this works and the pieces fit. Sometimes they don’t and accepting that is learning how to be an adult.
The holidays make the mess seem bigger than it is. Holiday season knocks me off of a routine that I have cultivated, a routine that helps me with my scattered mind. I do embrace the holiday season, have fun and enjoy the moments. When the time off and the family time ebbs, the mess on the floor of my scattered brain looks bigger and more chaotic. My diet has gone off the rails — not a diet in the traditional sense, but my usual lifestyle of eating healthy — my weekly goals are blown out (some of you might have noticed that I didn’t post last week.) and inevitably something new is in the works. On top of that, the kids’ routine is shot, the family routine is shot and Monday hits with the momentum of a freight train that wasn’t planning to make a stop. As the adult and the parent, I have to get up, be even keeled and keep the ship tight and moving along.
My writing suffers too. During the holiday season, I find it difficult to work with steady vigilance because the money-making ventures and the accountability work gets done first. I don’t know why this is, but it is. I always end up figuring it out, we all do for the most part.
So, don’t let the holiday season get you down. Roll with it. If emotions are running high, let them. If chaos reigns supreme, let it. Stand back and watch the show. No one will get hurt, too badly. The dust will inevitably settle and life with course correct. ‘Tis the season.
Being caught inside is a term surfers use when stuck in the white water while trying to get to the wave they want to surf. A lot of beginners experience it, paddling out through the white water to get to the spot where you can actually catch the wave. Expert surfers get caught inside too — you’ll notice them diving under the white water of waves that have already broken, but usually they are just paddling out (A broken wave is the white part of the wave). Experts aren’t usually caught inside for long. They know how to read the current, find the channel or the rip tide quickly because they surf a lot and are in much better paddling shape than I am (Channels and rip tides help surfers get past the white water). Intermediate surfers like me can suffer on the inside.
I was in Nicaragua recently and the waves were big. I don’t usually surf big waves these days, but the water was warm and I was ready to surf. So, I was caught inside a lot. Knowing those nice warm waves were out there gave me the mental strength to paddle through the white water, eventually find the channel and get out. Catching one of those liquid freight trains made all the hard work, the suffering to get past the inside, worth it. Some surfers call it “paying the rent.” You don’t get a sweet wave without mother nature noticing, and she’ll make you pay. I probably like surfing so much because it’s such hard work, which makes the payoff amazing. It might also be the reason why I decided to commit to writing and publishing a novel. I can’t imagine the payoff won’t be amazing.
I’m nearing the middle of my fourth rewrite of this novel. Rejected many times before but encouraged to keep pushing, I’ve heard things like, “It’s good. Just fix this.” Or “I like it but it feels like a rough draft or an outline.” Little do they know I worked my ass off on each draft and thought it was a finished product each time. I’m a beginner in this novel writing endeavor, in the white water getting smashed and pushed around by the current, but I can see the wave, the book I want to see on the shelf, so I keep paddling. I keep writing. I sit at the desk and push on the keys to make the words, the sentence, the paragraph, the chapters and eventually the book. I’ll succeed. It’s just a matter of time.
Happy turkey day, if you’re into that.
Halloween might just be the start of it all.
Holidays are fun, don’t get me wrong or peg me as a humbugger. I love the festivities. My son takes Halloween to another level. His costume ideas begin Oct 1. By Oct 31, he’s gone through seven costume idea changes, at least four costume changes, each with their own subtle iteration of changes. The enthusiasm is contagious. Don’t get me started on Christmas, not to mention November; we have two birthdays, an anniversary and Thanksgiving in that month. It’s a little busy. I’m also going surfing in Nicaragua next week, so no post. I’m sure you’ll miss me.
To be clear on the work of writing: 1,500 words a day are hitting the page, minimum. Momentum is important.
Turn up the good, keep your holiday cool and don’t eat too much of your kids’ candy.
Sometimes you are fighting you.
I like to think we all strive to be better. I do. But there are days, weeks and even months where I’m stuck in a rut. Everyone gets stuck — if you say you don’t, go do 90 minutes of hot yoga. Your perseverance will be questioned in that class, and if you get through it, even with breaks and a lie-down or two, you have persevered.
Writing a novel is a mind game for me, a hot yoga class of creativity and work. Negativity flutters around the room like little winged demons as I begin to write. Inspiration is the trickster, the coyote tempting me toward the dark path of YouTube videos, Facebook memes and true crime stories. The real work is in front of me, words waiting to be written, to come from my mind to the page. I sit and I begin — it’s that simple. I turn on music, sometimes, and zero in on the partially written scene that was left for me the day before. When I begin, the demons’ screams fade, the coyote runs away, and if all goes well the muse arrives. I have persevered.
I had another story rejected recently. It stings, but I don’t let it sting for long. It becomes a scar, another slice from a sword in a battle that I fight every day. Some battles I win and some I lose, but my focus, my through-line is the big picture — The Novel. I will persevere.