12 Days of Christmas | Day 9 | In Which I Attempt to Write a Christmas Story

Hello everyone! Can you even believe that there is only 3 more days until Christmas!!?!?!? I’m starting to wonder if my to-do list is even capable of being completed. 🙄

Also…today I am going to try and write some flash fiction. I haven’t even decided what it will be about. Annd…I haven’t really written fiction since October maaybe early November. So I’m feeling kind of rusty and reluctant. Maybe a little bit of nonexistent writer’s block is in there as well??

To be completely honest I kind of hate (*ahem* I meant strongly dislike) my own writing currently, but I will try to just write SOMETHING and still share it. It’s a challenge, right? I can be competitive.

*rubs hands together*

*stares at remaining blank screen*

*begins staring at ceiling*

*glances back at computer*

Riight…so about that story…

Uuummm…I’ll be back. In a little bit. Just have to think for a while…

(This won’t really be that bad, right?)

*Ahem* I’m back again. Still not sure what I’m going to write, but I may as well write the first few sentences.

Once Upon a Time…

Kalea stared at her dim laptop screen in the darkness of the living room. Well…except for the Christmas lights in random corners of the room.

She continues to stare at her blank document. Somehow she could write analytical overviews for a living, yet she couldn’t manage to a single line of fiction.

I’m pretty sure my imagination no longer works.

Kalea’s friend Lissa, a budding entrepreneur, said she’d read somewhere that changes in environment sometimes helped with Writer’s Block.

So here she was. Instead of writing in a cheery office at 8 o’clock in the morning she was attempting to write at 10 o’clock at night. On her couch. Three days before her “unique” Christmas story was supposed to be finished. At least she wasn’t actually becoming a nightowl.

Somehow nighttime just wasn’t doing the trick in sparking her imagination.

Kalea pulled out her phone to message Lissa.

“Still trying to brainstorm ideas for that Christmas story I promised I’d write.”

A second later there was a ding. Well…to be exact it was a short portion of Carol of the Bells…you know cause everyone sets something like that for a notification ringtone.

Me too. Working on brainstorming a unique design for my business pitch a week from now”

Kalea sighed. There was a big difference between designing a product and writing a story. Not that she could do either. But writing a story should be easy…right?

“I’m actually getting pretty convinced that my imagination is dead. Like seriously.”

Kalea pressed send and turned her phone off. After staring into the distance for a while and thinking about everything else that needed to be done before Christmas, she got up from the couch. Definitely no words spouting out of her brain right now.

She walked into the dark kitchenette of her apartment and stared out the window lost in blank thought.

Literally all she wanted for Christmas was to finish this nonexistent story.

Somehow Lissa had an imagination but she didn’t. And while Lissa said she believed in God and Jesus and all that “church stuff,” she seemed to get really uncomfortable when Kalea talked about it.

Would her friends listen to her about Jesus if she could write stories? Since she’d become a Christian she’d found that even if her friends said they believed the same things as her, they never wanted to talk about it.

They like to read her reports though…and she thought they were more than “pretty” dry. They were horrid. Would they read a story?

Well if the Lord hadn’t given her an imagination, that wasn’t likely to work out. What was she supposed to do about the deadline? Ugh.

Kalea startled as she heard a knock on her window. On the fourth story. How was that even possible?

Was is a bird? It couldn’t possibly be Santa Claus…but maybe something else? Did someone try to jump off the roof? Did someone manage to climb a ladder or ride one of the lifter machine thingimajigs to knock on her window? What would they want?

She quickly reached for where she had set her phone when she came into the kitchenette and opend her Lissa’s contact.

“Umm…I think someone just knocked on my fourth story window.”

She texted frantically.

“Do you think it might be a thief? How would someone knock on a window that high up anyway?? Or could it somehow have been a bird…maybe the bird was looking at someone else??”

After a few seconds Lissa messaged her laughing emoji.

“What’s so funny?”

Kalea texted back.

“Read the text before your last two.”

Lissa replied almost instantly. Kalea scrolled up on her phone, still confused.

After a few long, drawn-out seconds Lissa offered a bit of an explanation.

“At first you were like ‘I don’t have an imagination’ then you’re like imagining all sorts of ways a knocking sound could have come from the direction of your window. 😀”


Kalea struggled to wrap her brain around it, but when she did she burst out laughing.

Texting back a cringing emoji and a laughing emoji, she looked around for her light up clock. She should probably keep brainstorming. Maybe she could manage to write at least one sentence.

I mean…it could even be about someone trying to knock on a fourth story window.

Kalea grinned.

Where is that clock anyway? She wondered peering closer at the wall it usually was.

Walking closer she realized it was face-down on the ground. Right by the window.

And that’s when she realized her imagination was most definitely not dead. Nothing had knocked against her fourth-story window. Her clock had fallen down.

The thought caused her to break down laughing.

And already a story was forming in her mind. Maybe even a story her friends would read. And think about.

Time to get writing.


Okay that was actually fun once I got started. While that probably wasn’t very exceptional writing, I hope you enjoyed it too!

And seriously, the best solution to Writer’s Block is to write about Writer’s Block. Works pretty much every time. You should totally try it next time you just can’t seem to get any words on the page.

(I’m sorry it wasn’t as Christmasy as I was hoping!)

Also this is literally my absolute favorite example of writing about Writer’s Block. You’ve got to check it out.

Hope you enjoyed, see you tomorrow, and have an awesome and blessed Christmas!

Song of the Day:

I had a lot of trouble choosing this one today. On one hand, “3:42 AM (Writer’s Block)” by MercyMe seemed to match best. On the other hand…I was kinda going for Christmasy songs. So I guess I’ll have to pick two?

3:42 Am (Writer’s Block) by MercyMe

Be Born In Me by Francesca Battistelli (have you noticed I like Francesca Battistelli?😉).

“I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.”

-Philippians 3:14

“Blessed is a man who perseveres under trial; for once he has been approved, he will receive the crown of life which the Lord has promised to those who love Him.”

-James 1:12

“Therefore, prepare your minds for action, keep sober in spirit, set your hope completely on the grace to be brought to you at the revelation of Jesus Christ.”

-1 Peter 1:13

*All scripture quotations are from the NASB translation

**Also…hoping there aren’t any super back typos cause I didn’t even really edit this one. 🙂

In Which Bach Inspires Me

I’ve been working on some Bach, lately, namely the D Minor Cello Suite. In fact, I have a *virtual* recital today, and I’m playing the Allemande, Courante, and Sarabande from the D Minor Suite.

And I gotta say, Bach inspires me. A lot.

As I’ve been playing and rehearsing these three movements, my imagination has been working, and a story formed in my mind. I just love how certain music can inspire stories!

I really want to portray a story and some sort of meaning into my playing, and I thought writing out the story as if flowed from the music, would help do just that.

I thought I’d share the story here, for you to read, and perhaps to help you appreciate Bach (who is probably my favorite composer).

It really helps if you listen to the music as, before, or after you read the story, to understand it best. I would recommend the recording by the Netherlands Bach Society here. The Allemande is at 4:56, the Courante at 8:53, and the Sarabande at 10:45.

Without further ado, here is the short story I wrote!

A Short story based on three movements of the Bach D Minor Cello Suite


She stared out the window, a hint of sadness touching her heart. They were here. They were home. Now she had forever with her husband, until death do us part. But what if death came sooner than they expected?

Amidst the horrifying news of war and Nazis, there was a sort of unnatural peace about her new home. One moment a glimpse of the newspaper would send her heart beating a little faster than normal, another moment there was nothing to fear: she was in his arms and he was in hers.

But what if the drafts really happened? What if Caleb was sent away never to come back?

And yet still, remained that strange peace. Life went on, and for now she had hope.


Sarah could barely keep track of time. Caleb, the love of her life, was leaving tomorrow. He promised to come back, but something countered the reassurance, a voice saying that he couldn’t possibly control whether he died in the war. Unknowns spiraled in the back of her mind.

But time wouldn’t stop—he was leaving, he was gone, she was alone. It all went so fast, she couldn’t even wrap her head around it.

Time went even faster for Caleb. He trained hard, pressed on, kept going. Before he knew it, he was headed to war as a trained soldier, but truth be told, he hardly felt prepared at all. With his first taste of war, he began to doubt he could keep his promise to Sarah, and he feared he might never come home alive at all.

But through the chaos and doubts, he fought. He struggled forward against the enemy, badly hurt, but still fighting. Until finally, one day, he fell down unconscious, trodden underfoot by soldiers on both sides.


Sarah stood once again by the window, tears glistening her face. I will be brave, I must be brave.

Lost in action. The words were imprinted on her mind, flowing with fear and hope through her grief.

He wasn’t dead. Or at least, there was a possibility he wasn’t dead. But he was alone, and lost, perhaps surrounded by the enemy.

The tears didn’t come out in sobs or heaves. They simply streamed slowly down her face. Her pain was too deep for that. And perhaps it was too hopeful.

Because she would hope. And she would pray.

He’s never coming back, you’ll never see him again… a despairing voice echoed through her head.

Sarah lifted her chin up with silent determination. I will be brave. I will hope.

The tears kept streaming.

She wasn’t alone in her grief, it was true. But it almost made her heart ache more. How many women, full of hopes and dreams, had men out there? How many had been told as she had that their loved one was “Lost in Action”?

And all she could do was sit here and wait, hoping, fearing, praying, and waiting some more. Waiting with a heavy heart.

I hope you enjoyed it! I don’t really have any experience writing World War II fiction, but this is what came to me as I played!

“For we through the Spirit, by faith, are waiting for the hope of righteousness.”

-Galatians 5:5 (NASB)