Here Comes Winter

 On Christmas morning, after we'd opened our presents, my dad would jokingly say, "Christmas is over!" We three kids would protest, tell him that we had yet to visit our other set of grandparents for gifts. 

While I have never celebrated Boxing Day (though if I do want to move to the U.K. some day, I should start, right?) or observed all 12 days of Christmas, I should start. Two days - Christmas Eve and Christmas Day - simply aren't enough to celebrate the holiday. I always feel a bit melancholy on the day after Christmas. There's such a build-up to it, and then, POOF, it's over. 

It was just the three of us this year - me, my daughter, and my boyfriend. We didn't do anything special - just ate good food, opened presents, and watched Christmas movies. It snowed on Christmas Day and we had a white Christmas which I always love. I received some wonderful gifts, including an action figure Robin Hood from the Disney movie (my daughter gave me the Prince John action figure last year!) and I was happy my daughter and boyfriend enjoyed their gifts from me. That's probably my favorite part of Christmas.

I allowed myself to eat whatever I wanted these past few weeks, not only because it's Christmas, but because my gosh, I didn't need to monitor my food intake after moving and sorting and unboxing for a solid three weeks. But the last sugar cookie is now in my belly, and while we still have some leftovers from Christmas dinner (stuffing! mashed potatoes! ham!), those will be gone in a few days, as well. 

I did manage to walk for 15 minutes on my new walking pad. It will take some getting used to. I'm not sure it has the support I really need because my knees were killing me afterwards. But, that could be my crappy shoes, too, which squeak like I'm walking on a wet floor all the time, so I zipped over to Amazon and ordered me a new pair because let's just keep on adding to the credit card bill, right? 

On Winter and Writing

The beautiful snowfall yesterday beckoned me today, and I went out for a few minutes to snap some pictures. I am so, so fortunate to live in an apartment that looks out onto a woodland area. There's a bubbling creek mere steps away from my patio, birds twitter among the treetops in the morning, and the other day, a fat raccoon just ambled by in broad daylight. I just love it.

I signed up for a winter writing sanctuary hosted by Beth Kempton, and today I did some writing prompts on winter as a warm up for the course. It was rather lovely to think of the aspects of winter I enjoy, and there are many: cuddling under a blanket by the fire with a good book or to watch a movie, the bright lights of Christmas, the snow dusting the trees, the chilly wind blowing outside while I'm toasty warm in my bed...

Of course, there's some things I don't enjoy about winter. February has been a very hard month for me since 2017. That's when I found out my now ex-husband was cheating on me; the next year, my grandmother died in February; and the year after that, my beloved Kathryn, a cat I'd had since 2009, died a tragic, terrible death (she died in my arms - talk about trauma). I barely made it through last February.  I watched a lot of British murder mysteries and didn't do much more than that. Barely got any writing done and just counted myself lucky to wake up each morning. 

I hope this year is different. I hope living in this new apartment, and starting this new life, will make a difference. Of course, traumaversaries don't much care how good you're feeling in life - they have a tendency to make their presence known. But we'll see what happens.

I'm back to editing my novel, and had some new ideas hit me the other night while I was trying to sleep (I actually remembered them in the morning!). I'm starting to incorporate them, and I know they will add depth and nuance to the overall story. 

One thing I really hope to do with this writing sanctuary is to rediscover my joy of writing. I remember those heady days of my youth, when I'd forego attending high school basketball games or going out with friends so I could write. I'd sit at home on a Friday night, writing on my little desk, with a blue pen and lined sheets of paper. I wrote and wrote, and I don't remember it being as hard as it is now. 

Is it because the more you write, the more aware you become of all the story elements you must include? Is it because we are wiser, more jaded, trying to write for an audience and trying to write so no one will leave one-star reviews? I think that's a lot of it. I've always said you should write the first draft with your heart and the second with your head, and that still holds true. But I want to be able to still find joy in the process. Sometimes, I'll sit down and not even want to work on editing the novel because it just seems so overwhelming. Other times, like tonight, I know what my goal is - and I break it into small chunks so it's not as intimidating. Why can't I always do the latter instead of the former? Because I have a squirrel brain, always hopping from one branch to the other, chasing after acorns and other shiny objects instead of focusing on the task at hand. Sometimes I do wonder if I have ADHD - but more likely it's the result of having my brain rewired due to the Internet. Right now, there are six tabs open on my screen, and I've been sorely tempted to check Twitter or Facebook while I've been writing this post. Social media has robbed us of our attention and focus. I've thought about deleting those apps from my phone, but the thing is, I really enjoy interacting with my Twitter friends (if I stay away from the terrible Holocaust deniers and white supremacists on Twitter, it's much more enjoyable - yes, that place is brimming with horrible people). The key is, I suppose, to limit my time on those apps and learn some strategies to keep my squirrel brain from kicking into gear when I need to be writing.

I have a week until I start the new job - and I plan to enjoy ever minute of it.