TheBanyanTree: LOST: CHRISTMAS INSPIRATION

[Sharon Mack]

LOST: CHRISTMAS INSPIRATION

I have two prompts sitting on my desk.  Each has a Christmas theme, but I can't write it.  Why, I ask myself?  Why do I stumble over something that is so universal?  Why can't I write one of those mystical, beautiful, poetic prose numbers I seem to do so well.

I am aggravated.  I leave and go down to the café to get a coffee and end up with breakfast.  I never eat breakfast.  Never! I have broken with tradition.  I MUST be aggravated.  I mean look at all the Christmas stories and poems and letters that exist.  WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?  I'm a good writer; I'm creative. So what is up????

Has Christmas lost its pizzazz with me?  Has it lost its meaning?  Ha!  I'm actually one of those that believe in the story.  I flout commercialism by making my own gifts, by spending as little as possible.  I pride myself on the fact that I can do that and still deliver a gift that is useable and liked by its receiver.  I shop very little, but love the lights.  I love the snow (when we have it).  I walk around saying, "Now THIS is Christmas!"  I listen to the Christmas CD's earlier than everyone I know and sing them at the top of my lungs.  I cook, I bake, I decorate.  I drive around and "Eww" and "Ahhh" at all the decorated houses.  I watch all the Christmas movies I can stomach, even the new sappy ones.  I own the best ones, "It's a Wonderful Life," the old version of "Miracle on 34th Street" with Natalie Wood, "White Christmas," The Grinch," and my all time favorite, "A Christmas Story."

So why can't I write about Christmas.  I must be losing my mind.  Anyone can write about Christmas.  It's just not that hard.  There is material and inspiration all over the place.  Parties and plans galore, in homes and at the office.  Santas all over the place, "Ho, ho, ho-ing. " Santas ringing bells with big black pots in front of them so you can drop your money into them. Santas with white curly whiskers and laps large enough for two children or two dogs if a certain person wants to get their pups photographed with the big man.  Even the dogs have Christmas collars and Christmas hats that they dutifully wear to please their master. 

This is killing me!

I look around my office and see Christmas cards hung on the bulletin board with care, the small tree with just the right potpourri smelling of pine in the bottom of the stand.  A beautiful red silk rose topping off the branches covered with plastic white poinsettias and gold and red trinkets covering its boughs. Christmas carols blast through my computer speakers with carols from the Internet.  It's a traditional Christmas carol station, Internet only. You can't get this on your everyday radio*oh, no!  Bing Crosby is singing "White Christmas" to me as I type.  Even the Christmas cactus is blooming.  Now how could I not be inspired, I ask you.

And so I bring my plight to you.  Please, please, please tell me what I am doing wrong.  Tell me how to get past this block.  It's a big one!  The biggest I've ever encountered.  There must be a way to quiet my soul, to quiet my spirit so I can get a handle on this thing.

Oops!  Gotta' go!  The gang is here to pick me up for the traditional office party.  They even have a hat with a red spring on top so the white fluffy ball will bounce while I walk*and oh, there's Dick with a flashing red nose.  Oh, oh, I can hardly stop the giggles.  Must run now.  I'll come back to this later.  Maybe after a few cups of eggnog, I'll break through this thing and write a great, inspired piece at last.