I gaze around the room after having collapsed on the couch, too tired to move. The floor is strewn with bits of wrapping paper and new toys in their clamshell packaging, the sink is full of dirty dishes, and the linens all need washing. But I won’t clean up anything for a while. First, I need to take a minute to catch my breath now that the whirlwind of activity, otherwise known as Christmas, is over.
With December 25th behind us, all I’m dreaming of at the moment are a few quiet hours to do something I haven’t done in a while: write. The last couple of weeks have involved extra errands, lots of cookie-baking, and occasional gatherings, which means my writing has come to a screeching halt. Now I need to get back in my groove.
Right after Thanksgiving, my agent finished reading the draft of my latest book and had some wonderful suggestions on how to solidify part of the plot. We tossed a few ideas back and forth, and I left off our conversations feeling good about where the story was going. But with this break in my writing, I’m worried that I’ve lost that edge, that thrill I felt as I fleshed out ideas, that sense that I knew exactly what would improve the book. Now that feeling is a distant memory.
I need to block out a segment of time where I can focus, uninterrupted, to see if I can regain that clarity and sense of purpose. Maybe I can convince my husband to take the kids to the movies. Or they’ll be so enthralled with their new gadgets that they won’t notice if I hide in the closet for a few hours of typing. Worst case scenario, I’ll have to wait another week and a half until school starts again, and I can power through a large portion of changes in that brief time my youngest is in preschool. Whatever it takes, I have to get back to writing so I can polish up this latest book and make it shine.
Is it too late for a Christmas miracle?