Time to do Christmas cards.
Is there a more annoying or boring task known to womanhood? Each year, I try to streamline the process--y'know...print out labels...write a generic letter I can "tailor" to each recipient. Unfortunately, this year I've managed to complicate things to the nth degree because...yes, I'm sending a slew of lucky friends and relatives a copy of the Christmas Anthology in which my story appears. Cool though, huh? Christmas card AND a present! But I have to keep track of who gets the bonus and who doesn't. And I have to pray that the nonrecipients don't read my blog and wonder why they didn't rate. Oh, and I have to make sure I don't send a copy to someone I've already given one to.
Meanwhile, do they make Christmas-themed bookmarks? How expensive are they? (It's already costing a whopping $2.98 just to send the damn book. Bah, humbug.)
Plus, I can't just stick the thing in the mail without some sort of explanation; hence, the obligatory Christmas letter...which I have yet to write. (Do I have to put it on Christmas-y paper?) Conveniently, when it comes to recapping the year, I have my trusty blog for reference. But I just perused it, and guess what? I didn't do much of note over the past 12 months (hey, there's a surprise). A couple weekend getaways here and there. Several sales to True Romance. I don't think anyone cares to hear about my epic switch from Earthlink to Time Warner, though. Nor the rejections for my latest manuscript.
Maybe I'll make up something fabulous (I AM a writer, after all). A three-book deal, perhaps. Or a movie option.
If you get such a letter from me, pretend it's all true, 'kay?