This past Saturday, the temperature in suburban Denver was in the mid-60s. We wore shirt sleeves and strolled down Mainstreet, admiring the Christmas decorations. On Sunday, the mercury dropped, and you were still chilled wearing a winter coat.
When the winter weather arrives, I want to sit in a cozy chair with a mug of fragrant tea and a good book.
When I open a book, I so look forward to easing into another time or visiting a place I've only wondered about. I want to go on a spiritual journey or explore a complex relationship. I want to slip into the skin of a hero on an adventure or person who decides to no longer be a victim. I want to feel the exhileration of accepting a challenge and the disappointment that comes when it looks like all is lost. In the end, I want to be satisfied that my character did all she could to overcome the difficulties thrown her way.
Books have always been sacred to me. I still have some I'd bought during grade school. I have a tattered children's book that was my mother's favorite. I've saved my children's favorites and have shared them with my grandkids.
Perhaps the reverence I feel for meaningful stories is why I long to write novels. I want the words I pen to lighten a load or give much-needed perspective to an issue.
Winter (at least in Colorado) is long and cold. My advice to you is to put a few good books on your Christmas list. Read a book you might not have previously considered. Select a different genre, explore a new idea. Fall in love. Right a wrong. Visit a romantic destination. Get a new understanding of history. All that's possible within the pages of a novel.
Read on, friends!