We are on day 225 of 15 days to slow the spread.
Today is National Candy Corn Day, also known as The Devil’s Earwax Day.
It is also National Frankenstein Friday.
But tomorrow, in addition to being Halloween, is Reformation Day, commemorating the day in 1517 when Martin Luther nailed his Ninety-five Theses on the door of the All Saints’ Church in Wittenberg.
I didn’t grow up in a tradition that focused on Reformation Day. After all, my background is mostly Wesleyan, which means Anglican, which means our traditions came from when the wives of Henry VIII couldn’t keep their heads.
Actually, it’s more complex than that and involves a good bit more of Brittish and church history. But not being a church historian while at the same time being too lazy to do additional research for the purposes of this post, we’re going to leave it here.
Thank you for coming to my Ted talk.
All that to say that, while I knew of the Reformation it wasn’t a major focus for my faith.
True story: For a while the Mrs. and I attended a Reformed Presbyterian church. One of the first questions
we were asked was “Are you Reformed?”
“Well, we’re not as bad as we used to be.”
Maybe I need to spend a little more time on that church history stuff.
Because I need one more thing on my to do list.
But the reality is, I need to do that research, to do that reading, to be able to write.
And, I should be writing. More than I currently am.
In the mess of all that’s going on, I sort of feel like that’s the thing that is suffering. It is hard to get here every day. Even when I do, is this the writing I want to be doing or should be doing?
True, any writing is good writing as long as I’m doing the word putting togethering.
No, that doesn’t mean that I’ve changed my mind about Nanowrimo.
I’ve already had a busy October and the Santa season kicks off next weekend, whether you’re ready or not.
So, November and December will be all about, okay partially about, finding those pockets of writing time between Ho-Ho-Hos and the day job.
It’s what I do, because I’m a writer.
I’m also a writer who does too many other things.
Yes, these are my own choices. The chains I forged in life, so to speak.
Tomorrow is the end of October. In March, when this all started, I couldn’t have written the story of the last eight months of captivity.
I don’t write horror stories.
Let’s go. Nail some beliefs to a door and trade the COVID/lockdown anxiety for the festive holdiay anxiety.
It’ll make a great story.