On the first day of Christmas, the Writer said to me: “A dry gin martini for me.”

On the second day of Christmas, the Writer said to me: “Two new stories written, and a dry gin martini for me.”

On the third day of Christmas, the Writer said to me: “Three agents queried, two new stories written, and a dry gin martini for me.”

On the fourth day of Christmas, the Writer said to me: “Four publishing parties, three agents queried, two new stories written, and a dry gin martini for me.”

On the fifth day of Christmas, the Writer said to me: “FIVE HOURS TO WRITE. Four publishing parties, three agents queried, two new stories written, and a dry gin martini for me.”

On the sixth day of Christmas, the Writer said to me: “Six more revisions, FIVE HOURS TO WRITE. Four publishing parties, three agents queried, two new stories written, and a dry gin martini for me.”

On the seventh day of Christmas, the Writer said to me: “Seven new books at the Strand, six more revisions, FIVE HOURS TO WRITE. Four publishing parties, three agents queried, two new stories written, and a dry gin martini for me.”

On the eighth day of Christmas, the Writer said to me: “Eighth floor walk up, seven new books at the Strand, six more revisions, FIVE HOURS TO WRITE. Four publishing parties, three agents queried, two new stories written, and a dry gin martini for me.”

On the ninth day of Christmas, the Writer said to me: “Nine celebrity memoirs grrrr, eighth floor walk up, seven new books at the Strand, six more revisions, FIVE HOURS TO WRITE. Four publishing parties, three agents queried, two new stories written, and a dry gin martini for me.”

On the tenth day of Christmas, the Writer said to me: “Ten years on my novel, nine celebrity memoirs grrr, eighth floor walk up, seven new books at the Strand, six more revisions, FIVE HOURS TO WRITE. Four publishing parties, three agents queried, two new stories written, and a dry gin martini for me.”

On the eleventh day of Christmas, the Writer said to me: “Eleven new rejection letters, ten years on my novel, nine celebrity memoirs grrr, eighth floor walk up, seven new books at the Strand, six more revisions, FIVE HOURS TO WRITE. Four publishing parties, three agents queried, two new stories written, and a dry gin martini for me.”

On the twelfth day of Christmas, the Writer said to me: “At least I have my health and wife and loving family! Eleven new rejection letters, ten years on my novel, nine celebrity memoirs grrrr, eighth floor walk up, seven new books at the Strand, six more revisions, FIVE HOURS TO WRITE. Four publishing parties, three agents queried, two new stories written, and a dry martini for me.”

Merry Christmas!