The year was 1991. Bob and I spent the Fall at home with our preemie twin babies, exhausted, broke and exhilarated as we learned the job of being new parents.
I’ve always loved so much A Christmas Carol, from Dickens’ stylized language to the redemption story, quirky ghosts, and all the Christmasy details. Our famous Guthrie Theater puts on a wonderful production of it every holiday season, and there was no way our tight budget would allow anything like that. But I yearned to see it, needed something bright like that to help my tired spirit appreciate the holidays.
I found out that a local independent bookstore (Baxter Books, which has since closed) was having a writing contest to give away tickets to the Guthrie production. They wanted Christmas-oriented submissions — I don’t remember much more than that. I wanted to win tickets so bad that I wrote my heart out, coming up with my own short version of A Christmas Carol. I don’t remember how many winners there were, but Reader, I was one of them. It was so exciting to win something from my writing, and to get to see the performance I wanted so much to see.
I dug into my old files and found it. Here it is, a blast from the past, from 27 year old me. I hope you enjoy it, and may there be wonder and contentment for you this Winter. Continue reading
In the midst of this bustling holiday season, I offer you a bouquet of poetry. I know for myself that it’s so good and necessary to stop a moment, breathe and relax. A little poetry break might be just the thing.
Today I have put together a list of poems from my Poetry Challenge last April. Perhaps one or two will spark your interest and help you take that moment of respite from busyness. Self-care is so important, how ever you choose to do that. I need to remind myself that a lot! Continue reading
Some people put their Christmas tree up the day after Thanksgiving, ready to hum holiday tunes and dive into shopping. Me, I seem to go up into my attic and pull out the big gray box of Dread. Instead of glittery ornaments and tinsel, I pull out tissue-packed bundles of expectations and to-do lists as long as Santa’s naughty-or-nice scroll. I turn off the oldies station that starts to play Christmas songs in mid-November. I try to avoid thinking about any of it for as long as I can.
But eventually, it’s rather unavoidable. Continue reading
My new plan has been to blog 3 times a week. It’s a challenging idea (ack! what the heck will I write about?) that would move me in a direction I want to go with my writing. But last week, Dear Reader, I did not.
I had planned to. It was my intention to. Then I got anxious as the days of the week went by. I couldn’t settle on anything to write. A poem? An observation? Something funny? I dunno. I found myself repeatedly running away from the blank page and screen. Some might call it writer’s block, but truthfully, I knew what it really was: perfectionism kicking my a** (again).