How writing a book is like your Christmas Tree

This year I've drawn a lot of parallels between my Christmas Tree and my manuscript. More parallels than I'd like to admit. To point them all out would make this the world's longest blog entry.

So, I'll just tell the story of our Christmas tree drama and let you find your own parallels. Or not, if you're awesome and everything goes your way, in which case kindly keep it to yourself! Your awesomeness won't be appreciated at my house today. I'll probably throw gingerbread at you.

Let's begin. So ... you want to buy a Christmas Tree. A pretty one. That all will adore. And you bring home this (courtesy of Home Depot):

OK, so that's not really my tree, or my mantle, but I promise at one point mine looked just as lovely. Then I got two dogs and had a kid. And got pregnant again. And lost all sanity. Moving along.

Time passes. Up close things are great, but when you step back to look at Christmas Tree appearance #2: Not as pretty. The limbs are not all fluffed up, a couple bulbs have gone out, my plot is on a collision course and the star will not stay on straight.

Appearance #3: All hell has broken loose. Wires are all twisted and crossed, whole strands of lights have gone out and ran away with my main character, the star is falling off at regular intervals and the 2 year old has taken up residence in the lower branches, making writing just about impossible.Which brings us to today. Hours and days later, more replacement bulbs than I care to admit, a major reorganization of scenes complete with sticky notes covering every surface of my kitchen and we are getting close friends. Very close.

If you squint it looks pretty good, right? I mean aside from the whole bottom left side not lighting up, and we're not gonna talk about the backside ... who looks back there anyway?! There is a gem in there somewhere. Tell me you see it.

And Charlie Brown's tree turned out great, right?!