I am toast. All the gifts have been bought, the cards mailed, the presents all almost wrapped. Never mind the cookies, I made one batch and taught my son a few new words when the dough wouldn’t quite roll out the way I wanted it to.
But with Christmas approaching, of course, all people’s thoughts turn to–good will? Sure, but there’s something else. Peace on earth? YES, PLEASE. And? Oh, yeah. The presents!
In 2001, the year I started working on A Singular Lady, my husband hunted down a bunch of Regency reference books for me. He got Donald Low’s Regency Underworld, C. Willett Cunnington’s English Women’s Clothing In The Nineteenth Century, and a few other cool Regency-era books. It was a fabulous Christmas because it told me my husband supported my efforts to be a writer, and was trying to give me the tools to help me. I cried a lot that year because I felt validated.
So, yeah, this year I am toast, but even though the idea of stressing less and sleeping more IS appealing, I would miss the zest and excitement of the Christmas holiday (not to mention my mother-in-law’s homemade donuts. Just saying). Of getting the perfect gift because someone thought about it, and watching their faces as they open what you thought of, and then bought, for them (me, I’m hoping for some out-of-print Mary Balogh traditional Regencies).
Happy Holidays, Riskies! Happy Holidays, Readers!