Dear Santa...

Dear Santa,

It’s been many years since I’ve written you a letter. I apologize for that, but you know how it is. You grow up and you get really busy raising children and working and generally just trying to survive that you never quite find the time to check in with old friends. This year has been no exception—and, in fact, has been busier and more hectic than ever—but something just starting niggling in the back of my mind telling me that I should drop you a line. Here goes.

“What do I want for Christmas?” you ask. I have everything I want this Christmas, thank you very much. I have my handsome husband Adrian who is every girl’s dream man beside me and things couldn’t be better. My oldest daughter is coming home for Christmas from her graduate studies abroad, and she’s staying with us for the month. I am very grateful for that, but after the month of sharing the same bathroom we might be singing a different tune.

My youngest daughter will be home soon from college, too. She can’t wait to see her sister, and I can’t wait to see her. She attends school only 120 miles away, but she rarely gets a ride into town. I’m praying for reconciliation and times of honest conversation with both her and her sister.

If there’s one thing I wish you could bring me, Santa, it’s another way to make a living. I really miss writing and promoting my books, but it doesn’t pay the rent (or even the groceries or the electric bill). My day job is now ten hours a day and they’re pressuring me to work overtime as well. I physically and mentally can’t take it much longer there. Could you please help me to find a more uplifting job closer to where I live that doesn’t drain me so much? With the extra time and flow of creative juices, I could get back into writing again. It would make me ever so happy. Thanks.

Also, if you could, can you tell those folks on your “naughty” list that pirating e-books (as well as song files and movies) is just plain wrong? I never really worried about e-book pirating until recently—the big sales of Kindles and Sony e-Readers has caused the plague of e-piracy to grow. I’ve even come across some of my books being pirated at various pirate sites. I suppose I should feel flattered, but instead I feel worse than ever. I have little energy to write lately with the long hours at the day job that I’m forced to take since writing pays so very little, and people are stealing royalties from me whenever they don’t purchase my e-books from legitimate sources. And it’s not just me who is hurting—I have hundred of writing acquaintances who are also being robbed of royalties by e-pirates. I know many of these new Kindle owners don’t understand how important it is to us small fry authors and how little money we make on our books. Could you please put a bug in their ear and ask them how they’d feel if someone stole something they created so callously and without regard to the income they’re denying their families? Thanks again.

I suppose it’s time I sign off now, Santa. You’ve got a busy night coming soon, and you need to save your energy to give to those who are truly in need. I’m looking forward to the time when everyone everywhere will receive what they truly need at Christmas—of peace on earth, goodwill to men. Then the need to spend massive sums of money we don’t have, on presents we don’t really need, will simply fade away…

Affectionately yours,
Cynthianna

Moving out, moving up, moving on

I’m not sure what to write about for this blog so I guess I will simply tell you why I haven’t been doing much creative writing lately.

I’ve moved—myself and all my junk (and there’s plenty of it) about two miles southeast of my previous location. No, this really wasn’t my idea, but my lawyer seem to think it’s best I move out of the house since my soon-to-be-ex-spouse seems so attached to it that he’s pretty much trashed the place. By moving out and moving on with my life, it gives him one less thing to be nasty about come the final decree. But moving like this—with only a few weeks notice and all by myself essentially up until the day of the move—definitely was nothing I had foreseen several months ago.

The day that I moved the “big items”, i.e., the furniture, was sort of festive. I had several good friends come with their pick up trucks to come and pick up the big pieces and take them over to my new apartment… which happens to be on the second floor.

Uh-oh.

Yeah, it was a sweltering, hot sweaty day in late July. (Luckily, I moved before the real heat wave began—the high probably was only near 90 that day instead of the 106 degrees Fahrenheit they forecasted for today.) So, the added stress and heat of “moving up” certainly added to the stress I was already feeling. But, bless their hearts, they got everything up the twisty-turny staircase and into my new flat. I had been holding my breath that the dining table with the big pedestal base would make it up those steps and through the narrow front door, and, believe it or not, it did. It looks great in the kitchen area, too.

The only real furniture mishap was my computer desk—the cabinet that housed my printer and junk sort of went “whoosh” and toppled over into pieces like a house of cards falling over upon its removal from my previous abode. It hadn’t been put together very well obviously the first time, so it couldn’t take the front step without collapsing. Sigh! It sits in pieces around the living area of my new place. I’m looking for a handyman—or handywoman—to help me glue it back together. I think the screws are all stripped and some of the lovely particleboard panels have cracked, so it needs major surgery.

Other wonderful post-moving hassles have included the exploding washer drain hose from hell and learning to cope with living two and half stories up with a very narrow balcony to put my outdoor plants on… I finally got wise and decided to put my “rubber tree” (I have no idea what to call this plant my dad gave me about twelve years ago) down in the side patio area of the apartment building. The only problem it now has is that the wind tends to topple it over and I don’t see it’s fallen unless I peek out from behind my blinds (drawn to prevent the killer sun from further baking my apartment). Such is life in apartment city, as I call my new neighborhood.

I’ve had to deal with a lot of other issues, too, like looking for full-time work with health benefits (no luck there yet) and dealing with my daughters who don’t seem to want to talk to me anymore. So, this isn’t an excuse for not writing—it’s more of an explanation why my heart isn’t into as much at this point in history.

The high point of all this moving hell is my friends and family members who have been very supportive of me. I love them all.

Well, let’s end this blog on a high note and ask a discussion question you can comment upon and share your life wisdom with me. The discussion question: Tell me about a time when you were faced with a “move” in life that may have happened unexpectedly… How did you cope with your rapidly changing existence? What support groups or persons helped you out the most and why?

Thanking you in advance...