The writer Albert Camus delivers, what is for me some crushing (yet obvious) advice on writing a great novel:

Great novels… prove the effectiveness of human creation. They convince one that the work of art is a human thing, never human enough, and that its creator can do without dictates from above. Works of art are not born in flashes of inspiration but in a daily fidelity.

Albert CAMUS

He’s not alone in his belief that consistency or “daily fidelity” is paramount for success in most areas. The likes of Einstein, Aristotle, and Benjamin Franklin preached the gospel of consistency. This reverence for routine is an arrow to my heart. For even when I’m hopped up on Vyvanse, consistency is a struggle to achieve. Not only am I wired to abhor repetitive, dull acts, I appreciate the logic of my eight-year old daughter who says,”why bother making my bed every morning when tonight, it’ll come undone?” (Indeed, this illustrates the Korean expression highlighted in this post as repetitive acts can seem foolish and futile sometimes).

Sure, I see the benefits of consistency. Only by the grace of recently learning I could automate the words “violin practice” so this reminder appears every day on my Google calendar (without having to retype these words on each calendar day as I had been doing in the past), have I made sure that my daughter hits the strings almost everyday. Before being taught this brilliant hack, my daughter skipped practice often, which resulted in some groan-inducing lessons and a cross, hand-on-her-hips violin teacher. Now, she slays. The same goes for being able to automate the word “therapy” in my calendar each week. When I was dutifully typing out” therapy” every week, I’d get lazy, forget to write the reminder one week and subsequently miss my appointment. Now I always show up and feel lately as well as one can, given the wars abroad, America’s peculiar, frenzied epistolary war surrounding the Israeli-Palestinian conflict (e.g., a flood of battling letters from heads of schools, parents, law firms/non profits, students and unions), wild fires, political dysfunction, and gun violence.

The past four months, I’ve been conducting a type of experiment on myself–weaning off Vyvanse to see if I could write and function or whether the deficit would reduce me to a gelatinous, quivering blob. (My kids might agree, I’m wavering close to this description–perhaps more like a loose putty). I did this because I’d been told by my psychiatrist who prescribed Vyvanse to me years ago, that my brain needed a rest; all this neuron firing and dopamine release– could cause some wear and tear, namely possible cognitive deficits later in life.However, after looking in vain for this alleged study my psychiatrist alluded to correlating cognitive defects with prolonged Vyvanse use, and finding nothing, coupled with my son’s recent online research about my psychiatrist (e.g, that she is an anti-vaxxer who thinks carrot soup cures depression), I might be right to mistrust her warnings against extended Vyvanse use.

I also weaned off the drug for an odder reason–no doubt misinformed and uniquely mine; I worried the stimulant was giving me an unfair, unnatural advantage/ability to write, akin to the steroids Lance Armstrong injected to dominate the Tour de France. Perhaps you find this anxiety odd as I have not exactly won any medals/received great acclaim like Lance and besides, no one has ever said iconic writers like Hemingway were any less talented/capable because they fed themselves a steady diet of alcohol/other stimulants. But I’ve been anxious that my natural, jammed-up state is the true me and Vyvanse is the only reason I can write. After all, does Vyvanse give you a false ability/talent or just some necessary focus and drive?

Damn myself for such foolish anxieties! This lady needs her pills. I’ve been 10-15 minutes late with more regularity. Recently, I somehow got lost running around the same 1.5 mile reservoir path I’ve run around since 2020 with a friend, which creeped me out because I am only 50 and most people who do the same hamster wheel of a run would probably take in a few landmarks to right oneself easily. The other day, I had a mild tantrum at night when the dishes were piling in my kitchen and I was grumpy and overwhelmed with chores. This past week my kid was 15-40 minutes late to third grade two out of two days of school because I couldn’t adequately orchestrate the morning mayhem inside my brain and inside my house. One morning, as my kids scarfed down their chocolate croissant breakfasts and I was bumping around the house like decapitated poultry trying to get us out the door, my husband chimed in that Americans are turning to meth now that their ADHD drugs are waning. (I assured my family, I will take a pass on meth. There must be gentler alternatives!).

Perhaps most vexingly, I faced the indignity of gaping at my computer screen–unable to type even one new sentence of my novel or my blog –and then leaving my desk in a huff. Indeed, my writer’s block turned me into a sorry Medusa–my crown a hissing tangle of serpents. Though I had a mess of ideas, I couldn’t get them on paper; I am hideous! See the notebook and pen I keep on my night table in case inspiration grips me but months in, they are untouched, odd relics like those shellacked bowls of fake Chinese food you see displayed in the window of some Chinatown restaurants that turn you off from the actual fare inside.

According to a past formidable writing instructor of mine, Bret Anthony Johnston (who is an author who now heads the U of Austin’s Michener Center), writer’s block is a fallacy. Paraphrasing him clumsily, he argues writing isn’t about muses and inspiration; it’s more about discipline, stubbornness and dedication. Staying put in one’s chair every day to write.

That said, a few days ago, after a recent spate of unsuccessful writing sessions at my desk, I surrendered and gulped down my one last Vyvanse pill that I found rattling around in its bottle. The results: this blog post, which is no novel but at least my fingers were in flux. Though, to my great displeasure, when I called in my refill to CVS, the pharmacist informed me that Vyvanse has followed its brethren–Ritalin and Adderall to a most certain grave. (The shipments have been halted for an undefined time). After calling four different NYC pharmacies to no avail, I am wilted.

I will mourn the loss because Vyvanse was a miraculous stimulant. As he’s apt to, my son had me look at Reddit, a site I only look at with him on occasion, and more than one commenter waxed poetic: “On Vyvanse I love my family. Without Vyvanse, I don’t.” (I disagree of course. I love my family always but I do face all problems better on Vyvanse). Another person wrote “Vyvanse makes me love writing.” (I completely concur. I find immense joy writing on it. Words/phrases/ideas seemingly from nowhere flow out of me). R.I.P.

I’m a shade panicked. I realize Israel where Vyvanse is supposedly manufactured, is probably little-concerned with Americans mental health/ability to concentrate right now, but I’m feeling bereft. For here I am raw and exposed for who I really am: the bobble head who has difficulty prioritizing the to do lists swirling around in my head. As my therapist told me, one of her patients with ADHD explained that for her, all her problems/tasks make equal noise in her head so it’s hard to prioritize, which makes her panic and get pissy. So true! My stress about cleaning up the crusty, week-old bouquet of flowers whose petals are making a mess on the dining room table is equal to to the stress of worrying about how to help my elderly mother is equal to the realization I haven’t done grocery shopping and there’s a celery in the veggie drawer that has liquified.

This bodes poorly for my ability to finish the novel I have been talking about for a near-generation. Or am I being a whiny defeatist? Perhaps, we can look to the modern day celebrity for some bon mots.

“We all have to start somewhere, and doing something is better than nothing at all. Start small so you don’t get discouraged and give up. Remember it is all about consistency.”–Khloe Kardashian

Khloe may be onto something. Starting small might be the best way to handle my goal of writing a novel. There is, I’ve found, no greater barrier to writing a novel than the very idea of writing a novel and what it’s supposed to be–the creme de la creme of literary achievement, an erudite tome, a Franzen-ian reflection of the zeitgeist, a product of painstaking deliberation, reflection and egad, rounds of edits. (Perhaps I should try to diminish the word novel and say I’m writing a novie, a story plus, a long form short story or a fat tale). I know I face the word-count hurdle as the most I’ve ever written for one story/novel is thirty double-spaced pages and the average novel is around 90,000 words, that breaks down to about 360 double-spaced pages.

What does it mean to start small in the context of novel writing? I know one thing—at least for me—it is not trying to write a novel in a month as I have signed up for National Novel Writing Month for four Novembers without a modicum of success. (Barely a page to show for it each time). It’s hard for me to write that many words in a short space of time.

I’ve no doubt squandered more time searching for an app that can help me focus, break down novel writing into small, discrete steps and/or keep me interested in the same story over a long period of time. In comic fashion, I sometimes will call out the name of a new app I find for ADHD writers, only to hear my wise teenage son retort: “See Google Docs.” (Though I recently found NovelPad, which offers me the ability to create a nuanced writing schedule, sends me writing reminders and provides me a simple format for novel plotting so I will try it out. Fortunately, the basic version appears to be free. I will report back.).

I’ve found this simple guide to writing a novel with ADHD simple but useful. It gave me the idea of starting small (as Khloe suggests) and doing a 20-40 minute writing sprint that I time every night at 9 pm. I will fight ever fiber of my body that wants to wiggle out of this routine and try this little routine after Thanksgiving. (Please pray there are no essential Korean dramas /crime dramas that debut that week or new movies like Saltburn, a dark film about class conflict at Oxford I must see).

My biggest problem, that is, getting distracted during my writing sessions ,was perfectly illustrated recently at the cafe I frequented for two hours. It didn’t help that the small round tables were too low, relative to the chairs, which caused me to slump. The main culprits to my progress–my knee knocking the table, which caused my latte to spill repeatedly; more egregiously, my lit computer browser beckoned me to search for things and my warm iphone at my side blinked up at me coyly. Messages were checked. News was read.

This leads me back to the idea of a distraction-free device. As someone seduced by pretty machinery (e.g, the pale blue typewriter I swindled my husband into gifting me one year that sits rusting in its velvet-lined box. It’s stiff key-stroke and keys that stick together every few words failed to deliver me to novel completion), For some time now, I have been mooney-eyed for the Freewrite word processor machine.

I tip my hat to the creators of the Freewrite as the marketing is brilliantly targeted at those of us with ADHD who crave newness and their (unofficial) tag line is basically” or ought to be “we offer next to nothing but cost as much as a mid-range laptop.” From reviews I’ve read, there is a very tiny screen compared to most word processors and you can’t do that much editing on the screen. Its beauty is, you can’t search the internet, check your email, or do essential “research” for your novel and egads , it’s stunning!

When I have floated the idea of acquiring this device to friends and family, hoping it will prevent me from over analyzing each word I write and write with abandon, I am met with resistance. My logical husband suggested I just disable the internet on my laptop. After all, he reasoned, if I sat in a coffeehouse with my Freewrite (no doubt driving people batty with the euphoric sounds of the keyboard clacking) , there’s a solid chance I’d still have my iphone near by to lure me. But ladies and gents of the jury, it’s so shiny and retro and the keys click and clack like the typewriter I was meant to get the first time! With one flick of a switch, what you write syncs with icloud. (However, I do imagine Freewrite’s creator is sitting behind a white screen– his portly silhouette like one of those Disney boss cats who is stretched out horizontally on a lazy boy chair with three cigars dangling from his mouth. No doubt laughing at us ADHD fools).

Despite my brain telling me I ought to wholesale embrace the consistent life, I am reluctant. I’m drawn to the romantic notion of the mad, possessed writer with bleary eyes who only writes in a fever of inspiration until they run ragged. I found a few notable celebrities who apparently agree with me. Oscar Wilde wrote “Consistency is the last refuge of the unimaginative” and Aldous Huxley: “Consistency is contrary to nature, contrary to life. The only completely consistent people are the dead.” Finally, take the proud words of musician Grimes: “Basically, I’m really impressionable and have no sense of consistency in anything I do.” Amen, you little oddball!

But most modern celebrities seem to embrace consistency. (A bunch of kill-joys!)

“I pray to be like the ocean, with soft currents, maybe waves at time. More and more, I want the consistency rather than the highs and lows.” – Drew Barrymore

I demure, Drew. I revel in the highs–the rush of dopamine that comes with a new creative spurt. See me seated upright at my desk, tapping crisply on my key board like a less tucked in 1950’s secretary. My eyes are filmy. My skin is glossy. I’ve not eaten in ages. You might hear me commanding my children to make like they are at boarding school or in colonial days and fetch their own water.

In these rare, unexpected moments —admittedly tickled by my own turns of phrases and observations that spill out of me–I think to myself, I ate*! I recall the night I spent alone at a drab, narrow University of Iowa campus hotel room hungrily writing a short story for a week-long summer writing workshop at the University. I’d not written any story for many years. Though I was around thirty at the time, l stayed up all night holed up in my room to write a funny short story about my husband’s childhood in Winnipeg, Canada.I remember reading my words over and over, chuckling in disbelief that I was capable of writing funny scenes and that I had completed a story in a night. The next day, I presented my tale to my workshop group– greasy-haired, wan and grossly elated. But that all nighter experience–the insanity of ideas spilling out of me, and the satisfying immediate feedback of a room of people dissecting my words as if I was a real writer—gave me a lasting high and a newfound confidence that was unique and probably not easily replicated by writing alone every night for months/years with little feedback from anyone.

The real question for me is how do I satisfy my natural urges for newness and dopamine release while writing the same story for years. Ideas I’ve found online/my plan:

1. Keep up smaller writing projects that you might share with others and get the dopamine rush at more regular intervals. (This blog meets this need);
2. Timed nightly writing sprints with a reward at the end (tv/chocolate) will break down the big project into smaller less intimidating parts;
3. Writing next to serious writing friends-body doubling as the ADHD term is. (My friend A, just agreed to meet me at the NY public library once a week to write with me for an hour or more);
4. Change of scenery. One of the most productive writing experiences was getting an Amtrak ticket to Vermont and back and sitting during a non busy time and writing. All aboard!! (I have a trip planned with a friend to Hudson, NY where we write, walk around and write again);
5. Draw/paint/make stuff when I can’t write.

As if there were not enough barriers to my success, apparently those with ADHD have “rejection dysphoria.” We’re particularly sensitive to rejection. Knowing this, I’ll try to quell my instinct to get constant feedback and not share it with anyone for at least 50 pages. I’ve learned that the wrong comment from the wrong person can derail my project forever.

Some people find movies like the Shining blood curdling but for me my top unlikely horror films include: 1) Greta Gerwig’s fabulous Little Women adaptation; in one scene, I was aghast when the handsome young professor who loves Jo plainly tells her he dislikes her written stories. (No suitor in my life could have survived that onslaught. Even one with a similar great head of hair and smile.). My second choice: the film, You Hurt My Feelings, that Julia Louis-Dreyfus recently headlined that was cute but mostly forgettable, save for one scene in which she, playing a novelist, overhears her husband telling someone else he doesn’t like her latest novel and understandably, unravels. Holy umbrage!

The other related obstacle I face: I am sensitive to rejection but I also have an impulsive need to share my writing. For I am certain that if I am going to give up many earthly pleasures to write a novel, I want it to be read by more than my immediate friends and family. Perhaps evidencing an outdated notion of self-publishing, I will not try to self-publish my novel. When I think of self-published authors, I think of my husband’s gym trainer who gave him a copy of his self published fantasy novel, which caused my polite Canadian husband to fret about the real possibility that said trainer would follow up and ask how he liked the novel when the blurb on the backside made it clear, its contents were not euphemistically my husband’s cup of tea. I am imagining what would happen if I self-published: picture me handing out my novel to costumed trick or treators at my door— my novel weighing down their bags.

One of the highlights of my life was a modest achievement; years ago my writing teacher at the 92nd street Y selected my short story from our Advanced Short Story class to be read among others from other classes for a crowd in the Reading Room (where famous writers have read). To the happy faces of my proud friends seated in two rows and a packed audience, I read my piece and luxuriated in the sound of a collective groan of disappointment when the moderator had to cut off my time before the end of my story. That’s the moment, I thought, I want to write forever. (I am hoping that writing for this blog will contain my urge to share my fledging novel to an audience).

I’ll end this post with a joyful list of holiday gifts for those with ADHD in your life (or just anyone). I’m no tastemaker obviously: see my goofy graphic sweaters and a recent acquired shearling sweater that makes me look like a sheep, but I’ve been told I have an eye for toys and a maximalist spirit that is useful for gift shopping. (I have to add that I did not just cut and paste some lists I found online; I selected things I like from many lists and then added things I liked/wanted not on anyone’s lists). Besides, why not add something fun to this slog of a post?

1. Toy for all ages (except probably not infants): This simple wooden toy, the Volleyshot, (below)is perfect for my non-athletic family who finds foosball, no doubt Pickle ball (though we’ve never tried it), pool, ping pong and air hockey entirely too challenging. My ADHD-self also finds it soothing and centering to play endlessly. Has a metronome quality, I guess. I picked it up when celebrating my 50th birthday with friends in the Berkshires and ran into a Williamstown toy store thinking my kids would enjoy it. I ended up playing it at a bar/restaurant with my friends to the admiring glances of young patrons who passed by. Not only did it entertain us but when I brought it home, my eight year old swiped it and she plays it at least once a playdate. A family friend who has a nimble four year old with great fine motor skills, routinely plays with it. The best piece of wood you’ll buy this season! (And no, I am not someone who only buys Scandinavian toys and shuns plastic. I love plastic). Unfortunately, this stellar toy is also seemingly sold out on Fat Brain Kids and Amazon so, as expected this guide, is a sham.

(This is played as it looks. Flip the ball back and forth without letting ball drop to the bottom. Keep points to score).

2. A gift for slightly more coordinated people: Klask toy. Like a harder air hockey using magnets under the board to move the pieces. I gave this to a sporty 8-year old girl as a gift and she apparently likes it.

3. For the crafty ADHD-er in your life: Trust me we cannot stay away from a hot glue gun for our myriad projects. This pink one could be my new best friend. Add this to some nutty bulk bead or bulk mini toy order from Amazon/ebay/etsy like below and maybe add a pack of plain fabric headbands or phone cases to glue things onto. I would flip for this gift. (Of course you can go cheaper and get a less pricy bulk order).

3. More gifts for the crafty:

Most jewelry-making kits I’ve seen are super lame as in, burn your initials on a dog tag and that’s about all they offer or of course just beads and string. This one is a splurge but it looks like it produces wearable stuff. I feel some serious lust for this set. Gimme.

4. For the massage afficienado who lives alone or just has a lovely but typical partner who does not want to give massages 24/7:

Symbodi Wall-mounted massage tools. This could be a brilliant gift or become a drawer-relic in someone’s house. The limitations of hand-held back scratch/massage tools as gifts are clear. There is something sad about seeing someone use one of those back scratch sticks, particularly if the stick doesn’t bend to the right itchy spot and the person has to exert such effort for naught. And those hand-held electronic massagers you see on every gift list are a bit presumptuous; the giver assumes the receiver has someone in their life willing to use the device on them.

I used to bring my nobby, wooden Happy Massager to law school some days and in between classes, a group of us friends would massage each other in the lounge quite charitably. (Law school is a drag so you have to do things to put a spring in your step!). I well appreciated how you could roll the massager on someone’s clothed back completely platonically. Noone had to touch skin. So we’d do this for any classmate–unthinking. Though, it’s true I stopped bringing in my happy massager one day after I ended up with someone else’s Happy Massager and armed with two of these rollers, I spent my entire 45 minute break massaging two male students I barely knew at the same time in the student lounge like some sleep-deprived, bookish concubine. Some things are better left at home.

But this wall mounted massager could be everything. It’s hard to substitute human hands though, so i’ll let you judge. Also, is it me or do these little doo-dads look a little perverse affixed to the wall ? Like imagine a whole wall of those! A sex dungeon-y vibe. I would not suggest you gift this to your in laws or kids’ teachers for the holidays. Too intimate.

5. For the lover of literary fiction who has ADHD and no medication: only a handful of books come to mind because I cannot read tomes lately. The following are totally my bag: zippy but well written. They are all short or moderate in length, and pulled me in fast.

No sweat (easy to get through books):

Yellowface by R. F. Kuang.

This novel gave me a new fear, that is, of finally finishing my novel but fatally choking on those big, souffle pancakes as one Asian character did, which allows a white, pseudo- friend who is a less talented aspiring novelist to steal my manuscript and publish it as her own to great acclaim. (I knew there is a reason I haven’t tried those trendy pancakes). I couldn’t put this book down even though I disliked the two main characters. The book is set in the cutthroat literary world and in a jaunty way touches on racism, appropriation of Asian culture and other themes that kept me glued to the pages.

Pet by Catherine Chidgey

This is one of those dark teacher-student novels that I couldn’t put down. When I was reading it, I got extremely creeped out and had to run to my husband and huddle into him. It’ s in The Secret History vein though probably not as good. It reminded me of another entertaining little book Zoe Heller’s Notes on a Scandal (that was turned into a movie with Cate Blanchett a while ago).

The Guest by Emma Cline

It was a popular beach read but it’s well-written and a wispy, detailed observation of Hamptons culture and the stragglers vying for permanence. It made me dislike the Hamptons crowd even more than I do now.

Bunny by Mona Awad

A twisted tale with a protagonist who is a scholarship student thrown into a pack of treacherous rich girl students. Read this in one sitting.

Vox by Nicholson Baker

This is a gem. It reeled me in by the first page. I re-read it recently and thought, we (meaning humankind) need more funny, brilliant sex novels. We just do! If I could write like him, i’d roar proudly.

Aspirational: George Saunders A Swim in the Pond. I love the writer and here he talks baldly about the writing process etc so I might have a good chance of plowing through this but I’m not reading too much non-fiction these days so it’s hard to know if I can complete it.

Next level Aspirational: In the far past, I read long, challenging non-fiction, e.g., the biographies of Lyndon Johnson and I’m not sure how I did that but it’s been a while since I’ve had that kind of focus. I am interested in this book, Terribly Serious Adventure Philosophy-1900 to 1960 about Oxford and philosophy professors but this one will probably sit on my shelf unread so i won’t buy it. (This will only happen if I manage to find Vyvanse/decide to crack open a friend’s medicine cabin who has a shelf of expired ADHD meds that her kid never liked).

6. For the stationary/pen fanatic/artist in your life:

I’d wager many ADHD folk love notebooks and pens for all the possibilities they hold for new creations. I would flip for this combo of things:

Anterique Stationers Ultra-Low Viscosity Ball Pen

This pen is so smooth and oily. (I hate a dry pen). I have three of these gems and I keep them separate from my others, far out of reach of grubby little hands that will inevitably overuse them/forget to close them. My pens, my husband and kids (not in that order) are what I’d take out of a burning house.

Combine these with this notebook that has a Ruth Asawa drawing on it that I shall probably never unwrap but stare at appreciatively. Saw her drawing exhibit at the Whitney and her drawings are, gasp, so elegant. (Note the notebook does not have the psychedelic pattern as it appears below. That’s just my bad camera work adding that design!)

And to make this an even more awesome gift, you could add a gift card to https://goodsforthestudy.com, one of my favorite NYC stores for pens and stationary and/or add some pretty candy like:

or don’t forget Dylan’s Candy Bar for pretty and delicious candy. I am not biased when I say Dylan(my oldest friend since preschool) has yummier candy than the above place. Tastiest morsels.

Sure candy, may not be the best for your dopamine-greedy ADHD friends but it’s so beloved by them and don’t you want to bring immediate joy to them?

7. More For the art lover/artist: Come to think of it, if you want to gift a New Yorker with ADHD a cool gift, consider a museum lecture. Cheap at $15 but so awesome. See https://whitney.org/events/drawn-together-asawa that I will be going to. I think combining a lecture with some art supply/book/candy combo would be a dreamy gift.

8. For the friend who looses their credit cards/ids/wallets often:

Putting my ID cards and a few credit cards on a adhesive little wallet that adheres to my i-phone has been a life-changer for me. Now I just have one thing to keep track of not a wallet and a phone. It’s almost fool proof (except for the added 5- alarm anxiety when I loose my phone). Problem is, most of these adhesive wallets do not sustain the load I shove into them and crack under pressure within weeks. But I am eyeing this phone case that comes with a card holder. Brilliant! I’d get the yellow one. .

9. For the ADHD-er who adores soft things:

My kids oohed and ahhed over this soft looking Jellycat toy axelotl so I had to add this. (These creatures are a lot cuter in stuffed form I have to say. The last time I saw one, I was in a Philadelphia plant shop and it was floating around in a tank–unappealingly frail; its wiry limbs were flailing in murky water. It had an angry vibe and a green shade that apparently did not bode well for its longevity. Nor do I greet news that their limbs regenerate if chopped off, mildly. This other-worldly ability is alarming and I do not need to see another one soon. (However, this stuffed one really speaks to me).

10.For an ADHD writer who wants to write without their phone around but wants music or a perfect gift for your kids/teenagers:

Last summer, I attempted to get my teenage son a MP3 player for camp since he can’t bring his phone but we couldn’t figure out how to connect to Spotify so it was money out the window. This adorbs device, The Mighty Vibe, is a little pricy but at least in theory,I’m so glad this exists. I would like to try it. As I’m attempting to write without my phone as a distraction, it would be solid to have this when I write outside of the house. The only problem from the executive functioning-challenged perspective–it’s so darn small, and thus easy to lose. In my whirlwind of a purse–this will get tossed around like a chicklet (small square gum reference) and would get crushed.

11. For the chronically late friend:

A friend with ADHD told me she uses her i-phone alarm and sets her timer for every aspect of her life. I may try doing this but I just found these adorable timers that any ADHD-er would appreciate. They are colorful/visually appealing and I like how the passing time is visualized. It’s a drab, judge-y gift so drop it into a gift bag along with something more decadent, e.g, a Chanel purse or something that says “you’re always late but fuck it, enjoy life” like some quality edibles or a luxe bottle of wine. (See the photo below that shows the timer with colorful, almost anthropomorphic gummy candies leaning unappealingly on the stand but candy would go well).

12. Gift for young kids that like figurines/dolls/dollhouses:

Other than Polly Pockets, the toys that I love most, I revere this fold out 3-D Victorian house book more than anything my kids have had. You have no idea how many figurines/Lego people have traveled the paper staircase and gotten stuck between the steps or soaked in the little paper tub. It’s from the Metropolitan Museum of Art store and it makes me want to make my own pop up house book; only instead of a Victorian house, I’d want it to be a modern mansion from one of my favorite Korean dramas and I’d make paper dolls of the shows characters. Or maybe I’d make that gorgeous, sinister house from Parasite.

For any creative friends I’d gift this and then the below book about pop up books to inspire them to create their own.

13. My last item is something I want to make with a 3D printer if anyone has one they’d let me use:

My kids go to progressive schools where learning comes at a chill, hammock’s pace. This means my eight year old doesn’t learn about Egyptian pharaohs, Greek Gods and things like the Titanic but takes meandering, hands on field trips to learn local NYC history. I’m for turtle-paced education but I sometimes wish there were more fun, educational toys that would save me a trip or two to the museums. (My kid and many of her friends love history). She also adores small Japanese toy figurines, and holiday advent calendars.

She recently dreamed up a toy she wants to make that consists of: a fold out history time line of major events and periods and then a small plastic figurine that is the spirit animal of a real historical figure; as she dreamed, a white long-haired cat in a blue ribboned dress would represent Marie Antoinette. Adding to that, I thought it’d be fun to make a history advent calendar for the holidays so each day would be a different historical period/and inside a corresponding figurine. (This idea appeals to me as each opened day involves a new surprise and I too love witty little figurines. See one I purchased for my desk—the Girl with the Pearl Earring. That’s the kind of figurine that would be in the advent calendar.) To cap it off, why not throw in some candy to each calendar day too to amp up the fun? Whaddya think?

14. For young Kpop fans or anyone who appreciates fun lights

Kids like lights. This one has a remote to change colors and it’s rechargeable and a delight. If your kid likes the Kpop group New Jeans, they’ll like this even more.

15. I would love friends to make me a Spotify playlist for the holidays because new music is very much a salve to my need for newness and I love finding new songs to listen to while I write/do boring chores around the house. I made this recently and it fills me with joy. Hope you like it.

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4OSvoOu9UVzUQUsF6wwij4?si=7c0d2d6aac084aa9

Happy Holidays! Do something creative!