Christmas Story Contest

The RJ is having a contest to write a Christmas story. It can't be more than 300 words and you have to use the words, reindeer, jolly, wise men, Dickens, humbug, partridge, star, bell, mistletoe, tinsel, inn and stocking.  Here's my first attempt. I'd really like your feedback.
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“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said as I walked through the Christmas display near the entrance of the Royal Hotel and Casino.

 “What’s wrong?” Charlene said, the bells dangling from her ears tinkled as she swung her head to face me. Charlene Partridege loved Christmas. She put up the office tree topped with a blinking star and hung a stocking on each desk even before Thanksgiving. She set a tiny nativity scene on her desk complete with wisemen and shepperds. I drew the line when she tried to hang mistletoe from my door. She’d even suggested the entire office staff dress up in costumes from Dicken’s Christmas Carol. As the director, I squashed that idea immediately. I had a feeling I knew which role she’d envisioned for me and, although I admit I wasn’t feeling the Christmas spirit this year, I had no intention of going around saying bah humbug every few minutes.

  “Santa’s workshop in a casino? Please tell me they didn’t dress up the cocktail waitresses as Santa’s helpers this year.”

 “I think they look adorable.”

 I rolled my eyes. I didn’t see a jolly Santa on a throne, but off to the side of the workshop sat a giant sleigh and eight huge reindeer on a snow-covered platform surrounded by Christmas trees. Wrapped presents of all sizes and shapes spilled from a red bag. A long line of people wound around the display. I watched as each one handed an elf a wrapped package.

 Charlene walked over and picked up one of the gifts. “See, each one has name on it. Thanks to our employees and customers there won’t be one child in this town that doesn’t have at least one gift this Christmas.”

  I felt it then—the true spirit of Christmas. For the children of Tinsel town we had room at the inn.

 

The Art of Being Happy

My life hasn't been perfect, but other than erasing a few really stupid things I did when I was younger, I wouldn't change it. One of the things I've learned is that it takes a whole lot of energy to be sad, but very little to be happy.

When I took out the trash a few minute ago,  the sun was shining. Warm air caressed my nose and my arms and I felt happy. Happiness can be as simple as basking in the sunshine for just a few minutes, holding a new baby, reconnecting with an old friend, or taking a nap with my husband. It's lunch with my mom and daughter, a text from a grandchild, or hearing a baby laugh. It's taking a moment to enjoy a clean house even if I know it won't stay that way for more than five minutes. It's the smell of clothes straight from the dryer, or fresh baked bread.

Sometimes it's the feeling of satisfaction I get when I work hard, such as losing a few pounds, finishing writing a chapter on my new book, taking a dinner in to a neighbor or even pulling weeds from my flower beds. Or it can be as easy as running my car through a car wash, eating out at a new restaurant, or settling in my easy chair to watch my favorite TV program.

Unlike sadness which can linger, happiness is fleeting, usually experienced in single moments. The art of being happy is taking the time to savor those moments.

Motivation

I'm basically a lazy person who'd rather sit around all day, read books and graze in the refrigerator. I constantly have to look for ways to motivate myself. When the kids were young, all my time was taken up just taking care of them. Kids have their own way of motivating you to put food on the table and since Pampers weren't around, not doing laundry wasn't an option. It only took watching the baby put something from the floor in his mouth or picking him up and seeing dirt on his hands and knees to spur me to sweep and mop.

Then they went to school and for the first time I had time on my hands. I still had chores that needed to be done, but no impending disaster if I let them slide.  I knew people who had routines, something scheduled for each day of the week. You know, Monday was laundry day, etc. Didn't work for me. I'd find myself putting off the laundry just because it was Monday.I did, however, find creative ways to motivate myself. For instance, if my house needed a good cleaning, I invited girlfriends over for lunch. Since there was no way I'd let them see my house dirty, I'd work like a fiend getting everything spic and span.

Later I went to work and since there was no way I could do everything in the few hours I was home, I enlisted the kids. I even had a work chart for each day of the week posted on the refrigerator. The supervision took almost as much time as doing the chores myself, but for the sake of teaching the kids to work, I made everyone stick to the routine.

The kids left home. Eventually I retired and ended up with lots of hours where no one expected me to do anything. With only two of us at home, the house stays relatively clean, or maybe I've just learned to ignore the dirt for longer periods of time. Whatever. With all the extra time, I decided I needed a hobby, so I took up writing novels. At first I wrote for several hours a day, finishing my first in less then six months. The second took a little longer, and I worked on the third one off and on for over a year. After all these years, I find I'm still looking for ways to motivate myself. It would be nice if   my publisher was bugging me to meet some deadline, or my editor was clamoring for my next manuscript, but sadly I don't have either of those. I do have readers who keep asking for the next book, but unlike hungry kids, they don't scream as loud or as often as it takes to keep my butt in the chair and my fingers on the keys of my computer.

I guess I'll just have to get creative. No food until I've written for at least two hours? That might work.

Strengths and Weaknesses

I was thinking about strengths and weaknesses. For instance I'm a very logical person. If you want practical solutions to your problems, then I'm the person to go to for advice. On the other hand if what you want is sympathy, you'd be better off talking to someone else.

I'm the last person you want to nurse you when you're ill. When my children were little and they got sick, I checked on them, made them stay in bed, took their temperature, made sure they took their medicine and rushed them to the doctor if they failed to get better. However, I didn't sit by their bedside with a cold rag pressed to their head, or hold back their hair when they threw up. Why? Because it never occurred to me. The last thing I want when I'm sick is someone hovering over me. I assumed they'd feel the same way.

When a friend talks to me about their problems, I instantly look for solutions, I understand if they just want to vent and I won't be upset if they don't implement my suggestions, since everyone needs to handle things in their own way. But "Oh, you poor thing" is generally not something that comes out of my mouth. If they continue to whine day after day about the same set of circumstances without even attempting to do something about the situation, I lose patience.

I often feel sorry for myself and can wallow in self pity with the best of them, but for me it is something I do alone and only for short periods of time. Then I kick myself in the rear and decide to either rectify the problem or learn to live with it.

The questions is: Is my practicality and logical approach to life a strength or simply a lack of empathy for others? Am I missing some nurturing gene or is sympathy and hand-holding a talent given to others?

The First Thing to Go

As we age the first thing to go is not our agility, memory or even our eyesight. The very first thing that turns against us is our metabolism. It starts to desert us sometime in our thirties. Nature's  cruel joke is that our appetite remains the same. So we're eating just like always and wham, we've put on a few pounds. So we cut back and go just a little bit hungry. Do we lose weight? No. We may slow the rate of gain and, if we're lucky, stay the same. Until, the next year when the old metabolism takes another dive. It's either cut back again, or pack on the pounds. By the time old age rolls around we're down to carrot sticks and celery while hoping the same thing won't happen again next year.

I used to feel sorry when I saw two old people sharing a meal. I thought maybe they were too poor to afford two meals. I now know the truth. It's not that they wouldn't like to eat more, or even that they both want the same meal. After sixty, it's the only way to stay just this side of obese. The constant hunger may be the reason that old people are often cranky.

Al and I have been on a diet for a few months and have lost a few pounds. We've even trained our stomachs to expect less food, but our taste buds are still screaming for ice cream and chocolate.

I Don't Want to Be Popular

I just received the paperback proof of The Crystal's Curse. If you like science fiction better than mysteries, this is the book for you. It is set on present day earth.  I've mixed aliens, time travel and Mayan mythology with just a dash of romance to create an interesting story I hope you'll enjoy.

Now all of my books are available in print as well as ebook format. I ordered a few just to have them around. I was thrilled when I saw my books for sale the first time, but to hold one in my hand and be able to leaf through the pages is even more exciting.

The only thing better would to be to have one on a best seller list. Not holding my breath for that one. On second thought after looking at that list, maybe I don't want to be on it after all. Other than authors who have a dedicated following, the only new authors I've seen seem to be popular because they are what the publishers call cutting edge, a euphemistic term for using an excessive amount of foul language or writing what amounts to porn. If it's not titillating in some way then it's not worth publishing. Under that criteria, I don't want to be popular. Reminds me what it took to be considered a popular girl in school.

Every time I hear or read the words "cutting edge," whether it refers to  TV shows, movies or books, I know it's something I'll be avoiding. Of course, I also avoid anything described as heartwarming, tender or endearing because I hate to cry. It makes me all blotchy and takes way too much energy.

Marketing - Not My Thing

Marketing myself is just embarrassing. I created business cards with the names of my novels and my blog address. Yet I have a hard time handing them out. My husband was recently in the hospital and I managed to hand out two cards, even though we met probably twenty five new people there. I bought new shoes and didn't give any to the clerks that helped me. There are a lot of people in our small town who don't even know I write books.

My novels are entertaining, but since I'm not particularly well known, in order to have more people read them, I'm told I have to get out and sell them. Now I don't mind speaking in front of a crowd. In fact, unlike most people, I actually enjoy it. It's the latent actress in me. I want to be in the spotlight as long as I have a script and I don't have to promote myself.  Don't get me wrong. Like most people, I love talking about myself, telling people my experiences and making fun of my foibles. What I don't like is having to sell people on how great I am and the amazing, not to be missed books I've written, especially one on one.

One of my hangups is that I have a hard time spending money.Wait. I think I just heard my husband laugh. Okay, let me clarify, I have a hard time spending money until I've researched the product, decided what I want and what I'm willing to pay for it. Consequently, I hate sales people who think it's their job to talk me into buying. The minute they start, I hang up or walk out the door, even if I want what they are selling. In addition, I resent friends and family who see me as a potential buyer for whatever they are currently selling. I feel used.

So how do I do the same thing to others? How do I say, please buy my books just because you know me or just met me? Some writers hire publicity agents so they won't have to promote themselves, but then you have to be earning enough money from your books to support that expense . . .  hold on, I'm getting dizzy.

At the moment my marketing plan consists of trying to be courageous enough to hand out cards and when I get all three books in paperback, trying to get a few books clubs to allow me to come and read an excerpt to them. Hopefully the books will then sell themselves.