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As I ponder what to put on my Christmas list this year, I realize I have plenty of “stuff.” My house is overflowing with gifts of years past: books (lots of them unread), Christmas ornaments, warm slippers, kitchen gadgets, tools, fancy stationery, computer games, CDs and DVDs … well, you get the idea.

So this year, I’ve come up with a very specialized letter to Santa Claus:

Dear Santa:

I’ve been very good this year. I made all my deadlines. So this Christmas, could you please bring me:

1) Uninterrupted time to write. This is my job, it is not my hobby, so could you please tell people to refrain from calling me during the day just to chat? I can’t resist a ringing phone. I also can’t say no when my sister asks me to come over to her house and wait for the repairman while she’s at her job. And you might clue in the UPS driver: I am not the repository for packages addressed to everyone on the whole street, just because I’m the only one he knows is home.
2) The same editor for longer than three months. I’ve been switched this year twice already. And it’s not because I’m a pain in the rear–at least, I don’t think so. I’m modest in my demands, I always meet my deadlines, I don’t call or e-mail my editor without a valid and compelling reason. Since my first sale, I’ve had eleven editors. Not that all of my editors haven’t been really wonderful–I’ve totally lucked out there. But just when I really get comfortable with one, bam, she gets promoted or gets pregnant or quits to write her own book.
3) A surefire cure for procrastination. Think how much more I could get done without those endless hours of surfing the net, visiting my favorite forums and bulletin boards, checking my Amazon rankings and reviews, Googling my name, reading the jokes people send me, etc. I would come up with the cure myself, but I’m busy.
4) A smaller butt. At this point, Santa, I’d even take yours. I would blame my anatomical shortcomings on the fact that my job requires that I sit for hours and hours in front of the computer every day–but those Christmas candies aren’t helping matters.
5) A real vacation. Whenever I travel, I take my laptop and write–either because I have a deadline, or because I don’t have a deadline and it’s my only chance to work on those risky “book of my heart” type books. I also take copious notes and pictures, just in case I want to use my vacation destination as the setting for a book. How else can I justify writing the trip off my taxes? But it would be nice to, just once, lie on a beach somewhere, sip my frozen margaritas, and think of absolutely nothing.
6) A movie deal. Santa, couldn’t you stuff a few producers’ stockings with copies of my books?
7) A specially designed keyboard with a resting spot for my cat, so he wouldn’t lie on my hands while I’m trying to type.
A cable interface between my brain and my computer, so I could get the story in my head onto the page with no interference. (When I actually have to come up with the words and type them in, the result is never as good as my original vision.)
9) Only nice reviews. Santa, I know you’re magic. Couldn’t you arrange it so that when any reviewer says something snarky about one of my books, the whole review spontaneously combusts? (Then again, any publicity is good publicity …)
10) An extra-big check with my next royalty statement. Santa, maybe you could arrange for my publisher to get my statement mixed up with Nora’s. And then they let me keep the money because the mix-up was their fault.

I bet all you writers out there can come up with some wonderful gift ideas. Let’s hear ‘em!

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