I just wrote my annual holiday letter this evening. It didn’t take too long. I kept it short — just one page. After five years of producing the things it ought to be easy. I’m a writer, after all.
I started writing my annual note partly as a time saver (it was better than hand writing the very same thing to everyone) but also because I was inspired by a friend of mine. She writes the best holiday letters I’ve ever read. Let’s face it, sometimes we open those cards and barely skim the thick letters detailing little Bobby’s dental work and soccer practices. But I can’t wait for Judy’s annual letter. Not only does she have an extremely interesting life (she’s a deer and goat rancher as well as a real estate agent) but she knows how to tell a story.
God help me, I wish I could write a holiday letter like hers, but the best I can do is inject a little wry humor.
The funny thing is, she admires me. For being a writer and sticking with it. That blew me away, and made me look at myself with new eyes. Writing is a solitary sport and at times can be disappointing. Self-doubt comes easily when progress is slow.
So I’m grateful to Judy for giving me a little perspective on what’s important. I haven’t hit one out of the park yet, but I’m still swinging.
And waiting with ‘bated breath for Judy’s letter. . . .