We're having a video game kind of Christmas. I knew it would be super fun for the family but forgot how disappointed I would be once everyone escaped into their video game worlds and left me behind. They have begrudgingly come up for air and food once or twice, so it's all good. But it's been kind of depressing.
Today it occurred to me that if I close their bedroom doors and mine, I can quite likely write in peace and without interruption for the next ten days and make up all the work I didn't do over the last few weeks. Awesome, huh?
And then I saw my desk. Four manuscripts, research documents, bills, the remote control, the cordless phone we thought was lost, more bills, college information, picture frames, a spool of thread (as if I sew), binder clips, calendars, random art left by my small one, pens not in the pen holder, two camera bags, two ereaders, stacks of books, and papers covered my desk to the point that I couldn't possibly think a thought through. It's snowing and icy outside - and I'm wearing sandals - so I decided to clean it.
(I was just interrupted. My response: "I love you. If you love me, don't talk to me if I'm typing." It seemed to work.)
At last my desk is clean, fabulously clean and organized.
I have an outline for the second half of my first historical novel (the last in the series). I'll be back when I have half of it done.
I hope you all have a wonderfully relaxing (or productive) end of the year.