It’s Christmas Eve, and I suppose I should be in holiday mode, preparing for our upcoming tramping trip, baking or cooking something, doing last-minute gift wrapping …

But we had our family Christmas celebration on Sunday, because our daughter is already on her way to Southland for two weeks of climbing, and our son leaves tomorrow. So, with the gifts and fancy meals out of the way, I am ready to get back to work.

Not the day job—I still need a break from that—but writing work is calling me. Which means it’s not really ‘work’, I suppose. 

I treat writing as a job that I go to two days a week. I put in long hours on my writing days, and there are certainly days on which it’s hard to keep myself at the desk, plugging away. But the fact I was at the computer typing away at 6.30 am on Christmas Eve tells me writing is more than a job. 

As it should be. If I was writing to make a living, I’d be sorely disappointed. Turns out, I can’t not write. The past week, filled with family, celebrations and outings has been fun, but I’ve keenly felt the missed writing days. I’ve been snatching moments here and there (hence the 6.30 am writing session on Christmas Eve), but haven’t had a chance to spend long stretches in the writing zone.

Instead, I’ve been gathering experiences, watching people, squirrelling away ideas. When the holiday madness settles, I’ll be primed and ready to write. 

In the meantime, I’ve got a new outdoor poetry chalkboard, made for me by my daughter, to fuel some quick writing exercises. I’m wondering how long I could sustain a poem a day, like I did during lockdown. Or maybe I should limit myself to one a week, in the interests of getting other stuff done, too. So many writing possibilities! 

I hope you all have a lovely holiday season doing things that inspire you!