The days spill out too quickly from the end of the year. It's not even the whole Christmas thing, because we don't celebrate it and we've always kept Hanukkah to the low key place it deserves in the pantheon of Jewish holidays.
I think it's partly because there is a perceptible shortening of daylight hours that make the days feel as if they pass far too quickly. I wonder if folks who live on the equator feel the same sense of urgency in December.
Partly, it is because I was so hoping that my book would sell before the end of the year and I've had to adjust my expectations (again) as to the pace of life in the publishing game. Chances are, that little will happen now until the new year. It is (as it was the minute I finished editing the story) out of my hands and I have to keep re-learning the lesson of letting go.
I think I'm a slow learner.
On the upside, I keep pushing myself as a writer. The novel I'm working on now is stronger than the last one I wrote, which is stronger than the one I wrote before. There's something very exciting and very satisfying in continuing to grow and change, in finding new passion in a new endeavor.
So here I am, back to gratitude.
Staying grateful, being in the moment; these are the only things I've found to keep the terror at bay.