Be the Weasel
Sugar high, good news and last prompt of the year.
Today I’m sampling the many holiday cookies we’ve received, so be forewarned. This Substack is sugar-fueled. December 26 feels like the big exhale for me. I’m using the extra breath to chew.
I’m not usually Grinchy. I like coordinating new ribbons with recycled gift bags. I like the New England charm of outdoor lights and snow—the goofy hats and the puffy coats. I like remembering the alto harmonies in hard-to-sing carols. (Why so high?) I celebrate Christmas and Hanukkah; I like digging out last year’s wax from my menorah and putting in fresh candles. I like reminding myself, once again, how to spell Hanukkah. (Why can’t I remember after 51 years?)
But there’s a tipping point of too much glitter and noise. I’ve reached it. This was a hectic year and December was a harder push than usual.
This morning a weasel bounded back and forth across our neighbors’ lawn like a cartoon, its dark shape zipping against all the white. I didn’t get a photo because I didn’t have the energy to reach for my phone, but trust me, it looked playful. (It was probably hunting. Does that ruin the analogy?) I thought, Motion for motion’s sake—no purpose or expectation. That’s how I want today to be.
On Christmas Eve we saw dear relatives and attended a (mostly) secular service in a drafty building that ended with sixty people standing in a circle, holding candles and spreading the flame around, one by one. It’s such a simple act of unity. It moves me every time. The catastrophist in me expects a rogue flame to touch a curtain and send us all screaming for the snow-covered hills. This never happens. We sing “Silent Night” and blow them out and go home to eat delicious carrot ginger soup.
My point is, I’m lucky, even when I’m tired. Thanks for reminding me with comments or other forms of support, all year long. Thank you for bringing in the light.
I’m especially grateful for this December news: My next novel, At the Center, will be published by Regal House Publishing in 2027. I’ll share more about this long process, but for now I’m trying just to bask. I want to see the candle right in front of me. I’m a grateful writer today.
Here’s the last prompt of 2024: What is your mood on this December 26? Are you hunting, basking, resting, chewing? All or none of the above?
Lara
UPCOMING EVENTS
MUSIC:
New Year's Eve at Chester Common Table, 30 Main St., Chester, MA - Tuesday, December 31, 2024: Bobby Sweet and Lara Tupper perform at the CCT from 6:00 pm. Two seatings (5:00 pm and 7:00 pm), delicious set menu. Call/email for reservations: (413) 354-1076 or chestercommontable@gmail.com
NEXT (ONLINE) WRITING WORKSHOP:
It’s filling up! My 2025 ONLINE Winter Writing Workshop Series will run for five weeks (January 21 - February 18). Five Tuesdays from 6-8 pm ET. If you crave feedback and support for a project you’re beginning, completing or returning to, this is an excellent way to sustain your writing practice in the new year.
All the details are here on my website.
As always, the workshop will be limited to 10 participants. As always, this is a friendly space. Fiction or nonfiction. Submissions considered until January 1, 2025. (If you need a bit more time, no problem. Just reach out.) Feel free to send any questions.
A BIG congratulations on the publication of your new novel! And I agree...those high-noted, beautiful songs sometimes make my head feel like it's gonna pop (still getting used to my harmony training wheels). ;)
A weasel!! Makes me think of that scene with the sables in the movie version of Gorky Park.