By Gusto Dave
How many bloggers does it take to put up a Christmas tree? Believe me, I’ll get to the points that back up the post title in a bit, but it’s always nice to start with a joke. And you’ve never heard this one because I made it up just this last week after doing a comedy gig.
So how many?
Countless. It goes on and on forever.
Because they all have to go over to everybody else’s houses and leave comments on the other bloggers’ trees.
Anyway, the holidays can prove difficult for many of us. Heck, for us guys we become downright terrified. When I asked some of my lady friends if nose hair trimmers were an appropriate gift for my wife, they assured me that it would be grounds for divorce. Although I’ll take their word for it, I don’t understand why a perfectly good tool can be a bad gift. I’d love a set of trimmers.
But I digress. Back to the point. As a writer, I find the holidays difficult because I’m very sensitive. Quit laughing. I’m serious. Yes, at the center of hairy-knuckled, beer guzzling Dave there is a romantic heart. We writers are blessed with them. We see humanity in a beautiful light and it makes us want to capture it on the page. Sadly, there is not enough time in a life to put all these snapshots on paper. So when I see my wife glowing because I really did buy her the perfect gift (And yes, I do pick out good presents for her) I know that it’s one of those records that I have to suffice with writing in my head.
How many bloggers does it take to put up a Christmas tree? Believe me, I’ll get to the points that back up the post title in a bit, but it’s always nice to start with a joke. And you’ve never heard this one because I made it up just this last week after doing a comedy gig.
So how many?
Countless. It goes on and on forever.
Because they all have to go over to everybody else’s houses and leave comments on the other bloggers’ trees.
Anyway, the holidays can prove difficult for many of us. Heck, for us guys we become downright terrified. When I asked some of my lady friends if nose hair trimmers were an appropriate gift for my wife, they assured me that it would be grounds for divorce. Although I’ll take their word for it, I don’t understand why a perfectly good tool can be a bad gift. I’d love a set of trimmers.
But I digress. Back to the point. As a writer, I find the holidays difficult because I’m very sensitive. Quit laughing. I’m serious. Yes, at the center of hairy-knuckled, beer guzzling Dave there is a romantic heart. We writers are blessed with them. We see humanity in a beautiful light and it makes us want to capture it on the page. Sadly, there is not enough time in a life to put all these snapshots on paper. So when I see my wife glowing because I really did buy her the perfect gift (And yes, I do pick out good presents for her) I know that it’s one of those records that I have to suffice with writing in my head.
5 comments:
This resonates with me. I've just finished a month of mind-bending editing on a novel, and the first thought on waking today was not "Oh, I'd better get ready for the holidays" but "Oh, now I can start on that steampunk story lurking in my back-brain lately."
Viva la Steampunk!
Ooh yeah! Steampunk. I've got a not-your-average mermaid on my mind.
The holidays also take up too much of my writing time. All that trimming trees when I should be plotting revenge or taking over the world.
I'm not known for my sweet sensitivity but even I, Satan's Little Helper, get teary and soft around the holidays. I take comfort knowing January and February are coming and I can be my regular curmudgeony self.
Normally, I find the holidays tough because all the demands keep me from my computer and I end up suffering from withdrawal.
I'm pretty happy with the holidays this year, however. We're not going out of town and we're not having any company, my hubby bought me a Kindle, and I did most of my shopping online. I might even have time to write for a change.
And Shannon, I cannot imagine you ever being curmudgeonly.
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