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Yes, yes, this means I have a tree up. And it isn't even officially December yet! Quite frankly, the Christmas season can't come fast enough this year. With all the economic turmoil, teenage angst at work, and piles of books I need to read, I need some brandy now.

Aside from the freely flowing booze and bright shiny things around the house, I don't really need to do all the other horrendous chores things that come with the holiday season. I don't want to set foot in a mall. And I've pared down my Christmas card list to only those I've actually spoken to over the past year. I want to relax, spend time with my family and reacquaint myself with my camera, which I plan to do in an advent calendar fashion from now until the 25th. I've set myself the challenge to take a picture of something sparkling with holiday symbolism every day until Christmas. Above is my first, a crackled glass ornament, weighing at least sixteen pounds and buoyed up by the sheer force of my holiday spirit. Seriously, I have to evenly distribute these suckers on all sides of the tree to provide a counterweight so the tree doesn't topple over. Don't know what I was thinking when I bought these.

'Oooooh shiny!' probably.

This is my signed NaNoWriMo contract. Dated the first of November.

The update on my progress is as follows: I am finished the first draft of my graphic novel script. Twenty thousand words and 85 pages long. On Thursday I'll begin the sequel. If I actually sell this opus, the finished series will have nine books total, but I'm only going to write two to pitch the concept.

The draft is rough, but all the bones are there. I know that I need to go back in and add some scenes to make the reader care more about certain characters and plot points since things just kept inserting themselves near the end there, and other scenes need to be tightened, but if I didn't have such a head cold I'd be cracking the champagne tonight and celebrating in earnest. Only one hundred and fifteen more pages to boots!

The draft:

Yes, this is my latest crush. As you may know, I adore tea, and yesterday when I stopped by  my grocery store I spotted these beauties. So far I've tried the Fireside Chai (gingery and transporting), and the Ambrosia White Plum (fruity and mellow) and will probably drop the five bucks a pop for these gorgeous tins from here on out. On Christmas everyone is going to get things that can fit in cylindrical old tea tins. Socks!

Nothing is quite so personal as a writers notebook. And being personal, the relationship between a writer and their notebook is appropriately convoluted and emotionally saturated. Some writers buy beautiful notebooks and then remain paralyzed, afraid of actually writing in them, afraid that their words will not do justice to the glory of the pretty graphic prints or fine leather binding. Others will only write in college ruled, plain fronted, spiral bound notebooks. The plain Jane packaging a psychological trick to convince themselves that they aren't violating a Notebook d'Art. Taking a pen to those blank pages will not mar the beauty of the possible. The unlimited potential, the supreme power of blankness.

These are two of my notebooks. One I bring to my read and critique group, mainly to copy down the movies everyone keeps mentioning, and the other contains my ideas for the graphic novel I'm writing. I originally started with basic college notebooks, but soon found that I'm far more inspired by something beautiful or intriguing. Although, I still haven't managed to write in my leather ones. (Leather is just so permanent!)