It’s the think, that they instilled in me, the idea that Christmas isn’t about toys or gifts – it never has been.
Where cooking is my portraits, baking is my African Masks, the art in which I both excel and create, an activity that, like writing, drives something strong and creative from deep inside.
What do I do when I’m not writing? The things that will inspire me. The things that make me happy.
Because no matter what we write, we must give some of ourselves over the story, to the writing, to the characters, the sacrifice every writer must make to get it right.
The writer aesthetic is cozy. It is sleepy and comfy, it is intentionally messy buns and no makeup and stretchy jeans. It is the uniform of the rainy-day, tea-drinking, muse-chasing writer, and it is my favorite.
Gardening is a lesson in managing the unmanageable. We can arm ourselves with the right tools and educate ourselves on the right care. But sometimes knowing in advance isn’t enough.
One of the most exciting parts of finishing that novel is getting to write those two, little, lovely, wonderful words at the bottom of the last page. The End.