Nicola Cameron Writes

The title of this post, by the way, is an occurrence that requires a certain amount of planning in my life. I either have to leave the house or go into my office or bedroom, make sure that the room is cat-free, then close the door. Frex, as I type this downstairs while taking a break from making a batch of Holiday Leftover Chelsea Buns (truly the best way to use up leftover turkey, stuffing, and cranberry sauce, thank you Paul Hollywood), I have a large orange cat sitting on my left doing his absolute best to use my wrist as a headrest.

Sorry, Jeremy. You can rest your head later. Right now, Mommy needs to blog.

Solitude is probably one of the greatest boons a writer can get, and one of the most difficult to obtain. If you have a spouse, kids, pets, parents who live with you, or other individuals who want a claim on your time, it can be hard to find a gentle way to tell them to bugger off, you’re working. It’s even harder when the individual thinks you’re just goofing off with this whole writing hobby and should be spending more time with them (glares balefully at the J Crew).

A good friend of mine who’s also a writer has an elderly parent living with her and the parent wants Friend to be surgically attached to their side at all times. Driving to various appointments, watching TV shows that Friend is not interested in, making meals and cleaning up, basically turning Friend into a satellite around their parental self. I know this sounds horrible but if that was me I would either be screaming regularly or gulping handfuls of Valium.

Which just makes me that much more grateful for Ramón. When I fixed the lock on my office door a few weeks ago and started using it while writing (mainly to keep the cats out) I was worried that Ramón might be hurt that I was locking him out as well.

When I asked him about it, he gave me a quizzical look and said, “Petal, I figure if you’re in your office and the door is locked, you’re hip deep in a story and don’t want to be bothered. Usually when I come in to talk to you I just want to vent about what’s happening at work or give you a drive-by kiss. I can always do that later once you’re finished. If it’s something really important, like the house is on fire, don’t worry—I’ll knock.”

This is one of the many, many reasons why we are going on our thirtieth year of marriage, by the way.

I think what I’m trying to say here is, if you live with or know a writer, one of the greatest gifts you can give them is alone time. Cook dinner, take care of the kids, watch TV by yourself, and give them an hour or two to bang on the keyboard in peace.

Unlike Jeremy, who is bound and determined for me to act as headrest. Fine, come here, you big lug…

As many authors know, December isn’t the best month for books sales. Some people do very well, yes, but on the whole our sales tend to take a downturn this month. Those who have been in the game long enough know this, plan for it, and don’t panic when sales slow down remarkably the week before Christmas.

As for why sales slow down, it’s pretty understandable—we have a number of major holidays in December which involve traveling, lots of food, and gift-giving. All of this requires money, so people have to budget for their particular holiday and all the accoutrements that come with it. When that happens, book buying falls by the wayside (except for Iceland, where the gifting of books on Christmas Eve is a tradition that is prompting me to learn Icelandic so that I can retire there. But I digress).

So as I spend today cleaning, cooking, and putting up last-minute decorations, I’m not fussing about the drop in sales. It’ll pick up in January, or maybe as early as next week once people get gift cards or cash for Christmas. That being said, it occurred to me that a possible reason for drooping sales in genres that are primarily read by women could also be due to the fact that we’re running around like scalded cats trying to get everything ready for the holidays.

We’re tired. After days of cleaning the house (and in my case the garage so that I could park the car there during Winter Storm Elliott), wrangling the family and pets, baking treats, prepping and cooking the actual holiday dinner, and trying to make everyone’s Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa/Yule/Saturnalia/Festivus/Add Holiday Here a wonderful experience, we’re wiped. We’re too tired to read, too tired to buy books even if we have the spare cash to do so, and all we really want to do is crawl into bed and sleep for a couple of days.

Speaking of that, I have to finish putting up the rest of the living room decorations, then make a batch of cookies, then get started on Christmas Eve dinner. I hope everyone out there has a wonderful holiday, and I’ll talk to you again once I manage to dredge up some energy.