HOLIDAY WEEK IN FICTION DAILYLAND
Well, it’s happened.
It’s likely that sometime in the next few hours I’ll mail off the last of my holiday cards … in the hallway stand three small metal Christmas trees, very modern … along with a Baby Jesus in a paper creche colored by Matilda … and the tall slender Claus that seems to have been designed by Giacometti.
Yes, I have a wee bit of the holiday spirit.
I admit I feel something like the Grinch every year … with all the madness, people trying to make perfect dinners, perfect packages and perfect families … when all I want is some peace and the ability to write one beautiful paragraph.
The rushing around and deifying consumerism … the fake spirituality and religion … the imposition of beliefs onto my sense of private reflection … every year feels more intrusive, and me, more resolved against the whole thing.
As I picked out some soft stuffed animals to give my favorite children … it brought a sense of quiet joy … imagining their surprise and excitement to have a box, to open it and to pull out a cuddly dog … a book … some other surprise.
And so it happened that I felt a bit of seasonal joy myself. My deadlines have slowed down, though I have one project to work on this holiday season … as well as the novel.
So I’ll slow down and enjoy whatever gifts the holiday brings.
DUCK THE HALLS: A holiday commentary by MB
