2. Hernan

Chapter 2

Hernan

I was in a rut, which, when you make your living being creative, is not good.

My busy season was rapidly barrelling toward me, and I didn’t have nearly enough projects. The Christmas Festival was the largest event of the year for me, sales wise. It could make or break my profits for the year.

What I did have ready to go were basically plain old mugs. Sure, people liked a good pottery mug—of course they did—but it was Christmas time, and seasonal items were the key to success. They could grab everyday items anywhere, so why would they choose the Christmas festival for that?

I knew what I needed to do, the problem was making it happen. In all my years since discovering pottery and ceramics, this was the first time I’d been so uninspired, and I hated it. So did my dragon, the reason I got into this in the first place.

Having a kiln to run gave him purpose, and when that purpose was dwindling in frequency, he took it personally. He didn’t understand why I didn’t simply “make more.” And the time I tried to run the kiln empty to give him purpose, he took it as the insult that it was.

It sucked, but I wasn’t into Christmas this year. It wasn’t that I hated it; it was more that I was apathetic about it. My Christmas spirit had pretty much been extinguished, and not for any reason I could put my finger on. I hadn’t even considered taking a single ornament out of storage or planned what I would do for the big day.

Maybe I needed to go for more flights. Maybe that was the issue, I was containing my beast too much. Whatever the case was, I needed inspiration—and I needed it fast. It was either that or looking at accepting some of those bulk orders at discount prices that flooded my inbox. And as uninspired as I was for all things holiday, taking on clients like that would be soul sucking and fire extinguishing.

I grabbed my keys and hopped into the car, driving a few villages away to a street lined with junk stores. Technically, they were all labeled antique stores, but the antiques were far and few in them. They were mostly second-hand stores that had a lot of vintage items, which worked for me. They were one of my favorite places to get lost in and always held inspiration galore.

It was weird that they were all smushed here, and I wasn’t sure why this particular stretch had become the catch-all for shops like that. It was handy, though. When I wanted to find something vintage or unique—or, in this case, inspiration—it was all here in one spot. And as a bonus, there was a fabulous coffee house across the street with the best paninis in the state.

I walked through the first store, not finding much of anything. For some reason, it was filled with more car-related merchandise than anything else. Last time, it had been mostly books. I didn’t know if they switched owners or what, but I didn’t stay there long. Christmas Faire people weren’t looking for cars, they wanted holiday joy.

I had similar luck in finding inspiration in the next couple of stores. It wasn’t until I was at the end of the block that I finally hit the one—the one that would have what I needed. Even before I went inside, I knew it was exactly the place I needed to be, the window display a recreation of Santa’s Village using 1950’s Christmas decor.

And as grand as that was, stepping inside was a thousand times better. It looked like Christmas had thrown up inside. The owner was either a mega Christmas fan or they’d acquired someone’s collection because the place was wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling Christmas.

The aisles were flooded with vintage Santa displays, mice dressed like elves, light-up candy canes, and all sorts of Christmas trees. There were dolls with fancy Christmas dresses, old greeting cards, dishes—everything and anything you might think of when it came to decorating for Christmas. They even had a display of cookbooks that were Christmas specific. If I couldn’t find some inspiration here, there was none to be had and my dragon and I should give up shop and build a home in the mountains where we could live off the land or something equally unhelpful.

I took out my phone, and any time I saw something that inspired me, I took a picture. There was a time when I’d try and remember it all or spend far more money than I needed to to take it all home. The pictures weren’t as helpful as the real deal, but they were cost effective and worked a thousand times better than my memory.

That didn’t mean I left empty-handed. I found a few items I thought had decent illustrations for later and wouldn’t be as effective on screen. One was a can of peanut butter from years gone by that had the most adorable Santa on it. I wasn’t sure why I had to have it, but I did. So home with me it was coming. There was also a children’s book whose illustrations were a little more abstract than I’d seen before. And of course, there was a dragon ornament, because… dragons.

Turning down the final row, I was drawn to this little elf figurine. He was different than the others, almost like his eyes were staring right at me. But sadly, when I went up to pay, there was no price tag.

“I’m sorry, without any pricing, I can’t sell this.” She looked sympathetic, not like she was being a jerk to be a jerk.

“I didn’t see one on there, so I thought… never mind. I’ll just take the rest.” I wasn’t sure why it made me so sad, but it did.

“Let me take a look where you found it and see if I can figure it out for you.”

I showed her where it was from, and it turned out that the little guy was just part of a set and that’s why he looked unmarked. That was how I ended up leaving with eight elf statues. None looked like they belonged together and I wasn’t sure how they made a set, but I wasn’t arguing. I really wanted that little elf.

Maybe it was my sign to make all things elves for my booth.