A few fitful snowflakes still fall after a morning of heavier snowfall leaving a template of gray sky and white lawn. The holiday hustle and bustle is over, and it’s time to return to work. I continue to write my novel about obsessive love and a woman stalker after the snow led to the cancellation of my morning writing workshop.

Besides my novel Obsession Unleashed, my energy is in my writing group, compiling an anthology. The Women’s Writing Circle is creating short stories and poems centered around the theme of love. We might write about an immigrant grandmother. We capture vivid memories that emerge on a sultry, windy summer day at the seashore. There’s a landscape of barns and silos out here where I live. A painter’s delight. A writer’s inspiration to go deeper.
It gets me thinking I can focus less on demanding more of myself but instead appreciating whatever it is that I can put into words. When NFL season began, I found a great distraction rooting for the Philadelphia Eagles. I am naturally competitive. The sport sparks my interest in high-level competition. Maybe it was growing up with an older brother who was an avid sports fan, or having to raise two sons on my own that made football the autumn and early winter pleasure of my life. Say goodbye to the blahs of Sunday. And so I write this. How perfect is that.

As we work, we refine and develop the craft of writing, discovering something new about ourselves or those who influenced us.
I’ve moved from my upstairs writing desk to my kitchen table. I now have a view of my backyard blanketed in snow. A large cream-colored poinsettia from the church in remembrance of my parents graces the fireplace hearth.
I guess you could say I find January and its frigid days trying. It’s hard to visualize spring.
There is so much pressure to be perfect—whether it’s giving up alcohol, staying active, eating healthily, or exploring the unknown. And the work, always the work to remain engaged and creative even when it feels so cold outside. There is no perfect sentence, no perfect story. But, of course, writing is not for the faint of heart.
The New Year is starting and I am reminded that we should enjoy each new day, even the messy and difficult parts. I subscribe to a philosophy that if we welcome ease and simplicity into our lives, the rest follows naturally. I embrace what Episcopal priest Kate Bowler calls a “try January.” I prefer it over a “dry” January. Bowler emphasizes “not crushing it.” Instead, she encourages us to try and let go of perfection. We should keep moving ahead one day at a time.

How about you? How do you find a little relief from the “perfection” of it all?

I admire your view from the kitchen table, so lovely.
A few weeks ago I was jarred out of my perfectionism. I’ll probably blog about it.
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Good morning, Marian. I look forward to reading the blog post. That isn’t my kitchen table but an AI generated photo. The photo of the Sculthorpe painting is mine. Hope your New Year is going well, and thanks so much for taking a moment to comment.
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We are often too hard on ourselves. Good reminder
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Indeed, we are. Women especially from what I’ve read. And it’s so detrimental to your physical and mental health and well-being. Thank you for commenting, Margaret. Happy New Year.
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