The Advent Door
Wherein the author reflects on what's behind Door #1.
I dig the idea of advent calendars. Initially, I was going to go all nutty about the actual calendars, but once I started to banging out some words, I realized it's more correct to say the idea appeals to me. I'm not very good at "adventing," as it were.
At the bookstore, advent calendars have a strange shelf-life. You've got a three-week period in November to display them, point people at them, and hope to God customers actually buy them. Come this time in December, they're like pumpkins three days after Halloween. No one wants them, and everyone starts to edge away from them.
Hingston and Olson do a short story advent box set, and as a writer and publisher, I'm always jealous they manage to pull it off. Because, as you can imagine, you have to start thinking and planning these things in, like, February. All so you can get them on the shelves for those few weeks in November; all so folks can wake up each morning in December with something to look forward to. Hingston & Olson's 2023 edition is available. So is 2022's.
(H & O have been doing this for awhile. Good for them.)
We had a LEGO advent calendar a few years ago. I think I finally opened the remaining doors in July, just to get the damn thing off the table by the window in the dining room. I opened all the plastic packs and dumped the pieces into a container, and then filed them in with the rest of the LEGOs.
So, yes, what is it about the idea of advent calendars? Well, it's that momentary frisson of not knowing, isn't it? Every day, you get a little thrill about what happens next. What are you going to find behind today's door? Maybe it's a tiny bottle of schnapps? Maybe it's a bite of dark chocolate? Maybe it's a plastic keyring, adorned with your second- or third-favorite Pokémon character?
Who knows, and that's the point, isn't it?
Which stumbles around to a thought I had last night. Every creative knows the struggle of being creative. Life gets complicated. Life gets in the way. Life might suddenly decide that it's had enough, like the alternator in my car last week.
Creative projects remain nebulous for some portion of their creation. Writers don't necessarily know the end of their novel. Sculptors might not know the shape that is hiding in their medium. Songwriters may only have a bit of a maddening melody that refuses to leave them alone. We don't know the end, and that can make planning tricky. That can make getting to the table complicated.
I dislike being between projects. A friend sent me this meme the other night. We both laughed like loons, because, yes, it's all about avoiding that dead time between this thing and what's next. And sometimes it is hard to finish because once you do, you'll never be able to feel that way about it again.
But that's okay. We're supposed to finish. We're supposed to start anew. We're supposed to be making things.
Here's your advent thought for the day, for every day: What cool shit are you doing today?
Open the door.
