A Writer’s Christmas…


No snow where I am – lots of rain and cold though! I was kind of hoping that Hugh Jackman would be under my chrimbo tree this year (just to keep me warm when TOH isn’t around), but TOH refused to let me have him…


…or David Tennant. Most unsporting of him; all because I said he couldn’t have Angelina Jolie… *giggles* Sorry, I spend a lot of time watching films and Hugh Jackman is one of my heart throbs.


Where was I?

Oh yes. Christmas.

A writer is one of those people who get avoided at christmas parties. We tend to be a little obsessive over our latest project / published book and anyone asking “So what do you do?” will get an earful which is either boastful / full of pride at getting published (even if you’re an indie author, you still feel proud of publishing yourself – don’t ask) or it’s depressed and whiny because the writing / sales aren’t going very well.

We also don’t get office parties – it’s very difficult to have one when you’re the only person in the office!

So what do we get to do at christmas?

Well, virtual parties are fun – everyone attending usually has a damn good imagination and between google images and You tube, we can get things going in such a way that if the party was a face to face one, we’d probably get thrown out of the pub for being too loud…

mandy xmas

Virtual parties are also great because there’s no chance of a hangover.

I’ve been pretty busy attending things for the kids – christmas shows, carol concerts, parents evenings… the usual parent things – of course there’s also cards to be written and posted (all done), presents to buy and wrap (almost finished buying) and food to pick up (that’s tonight / christmas eve). Of course, the kids are completely hyper, even NOS who is trying his hardest to be the cool teenage boy…

My christmas never includes writing – although this year I will be reading my christmas book – Father Christmas and Quinza the Linzer  – to my kids on Christmas eve. Fancy a peek? Here you go!

* * *

Look under your bed and what do you see,

A place full of dust or a magical tree?

Crawl under your bed and continue the tale,

There’s a ship by the tree and it’s about to set sail.


* * * *


Once upon a time in a land far away,

Everyone was preparing for one special day.

They put up decorations and sent special cards,

Wrote special letters that they sent very far.


The Greeger trees leaves turned silvery-white,

The Angrithens flowers dropped petals overnight.

The Candy Canes grew large in SnafflewichValley,

And snow started to fall in Huggibuck Alley.


* * * *


They checked they had food and drink for that day,

That wouldn’t be long in coming their way.

Their bestest behaviour was all they could do,

To make sure Father Christmas would visit them too.


The Linzers of the north were especially glad.

They knew none of them had ever been bad.

So they built little snow houses with chimneys so tall,

Father Christmas wouldn’t be able to forget them at all.


* * * *


One young white Linzer was very prepared,

Quinza had built a chimney taller than anyone dared.

She’d decorated her snow house with millions of lights,

Because Father Christmas would visit that night.


The Land Far Away got ready to sleep,

Even the Fligaphluphs tried to count sheep.

The Virgrinters snuggled into their warm beds,

And the Linzers curled up in fleecy lined sleds.


* * * *


“On Dancer, On Prancer.” Father Christmas said,

“We have many houses to visit before bed.

We have lots of stockings to fill with chocolate and toys

And hundreds of presents deliver to the girls and boys.


He visited the Angrithens and left presents beneath flowers,

He visited Grungegogglers and was there for hours,

Fulfilling their wishes from his big present sack,

That he carried around in the sled’s massive back.


* * * *


He visited Sparkfinkle Wood and Fligaphluph Heights

He dropped in on Phowlerphluph and gave him a fright!

He had tea with Angvin and borrowed his loo,

He even left the Gribblebid a present or two.


The Linzers were last on his whirlwind stop tour,

The chimneys were tall and they made his bottom sore!

Mrs. Christmas had padded out his trousers so red,

“You’ll be fine this year, dear. Just don’t fall on your head!”

* * *

Now if you’ll excuse me, I really should try to get some work done…