The holidays can turn us topsy-turvy. Schedules change. Families gather and disperse. Kids are home, ecstatic and then bored. Somebody still has to clean the kitchen, gather and recycle the wrapping paper. People no longer with us are missed afresh. In California, we’re all watching the weather, waiting for rain. In Sebastopol, lights go up on the houses, warming the crisp nights, burning watts of electricity. How do we survive the holidays, guilt of materialism competing with the generosity of the human heart? For us, the answer is to write. And not only this scribbling on the page—to be a writer when the family gathers or the brings of pamphlets for money come knocking at the door at bedtime just as one kid hurts his toe and begins to sob, the dog barking, all of them jammed at the hall door opening inward and the woman saying, “For a small donation, I can leave our newsletter with you,” to be a writer then is to observe. To love each foolish, brilliant actor in the drama, everyone’s complete and disparate agendas clashing. Learn about dialog, at least, when you can’t bear your brother’s politics, your aunt’s gossip. Learn about gesture when your nephew over the course of a half-hour squirrels down every nut in the crystal bowl. Think: How would I describe this? It’s a form of meditation, a way to put breath between yourself and the mad, mad world.

Happy Writing from all of us at The Book Writing World!

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