So I decided to spend the holidays alone. I needed the time to write -- I’m under contract to produce some chapters after all -- so I decided not to fly to Minnesota to be with family. I put up my tree and have a Jenny-O, turkey breast in the oven, au-gratin potatoes, and will make a nice vegetable stir fry. I’ve been at the keyboard most of the day, and have produced some readable words, but it’s strange. Home alone. Christmas happening in homes all around me. Weird.
Was this the right thing to do? I have so much trouble writing in the evenings. Weekends just don’t seem long enough. I felt like the holidays would be my only opportunity to really get into this story.
Now there is icy rain falling outside and its chilly here. I feel a little lonely but then again, if I had gone home, I’d be worried about getting the work done anyway.
Tomorrow will be a better day. It will be the day AFTER Christmas and I’ll be able to write without feeling strange about it.
Right now, dinner is almost ready, the cat is curled up behind me on the chair, the rain is slapping against the windows and I’m feeling okay. Happy Holidays!
