It's the same every autumn. Maybe the air nips my exposed fingers first thing in the morning, or a weighty sky presses upon me the thought that a season of perpetual twilight is approaching, and I realise that if I want to write something appropriate for winter, the solstice, Christmas, the season of good cheer etc., I'd better get on with it. My intention is always to write something profound or beautiful, but it never turns out that way. However wonderful the piece I have in mind is, the results always feel didactic, trite or sickly sentimental. Look at the doggerel I posted last time if you don't believe me.
Why is it? There are plenty of prompts to help from Charles Dickens's ghost stories to Jingle Bells, from penguins and muddy field walks to the smell of burning sprouts and thoughts of what your granny will buy you this year. (Socks again, I'll bet!) Perhaps it's this plethora that is the problem. There are so many aspects to choose from that it's hard to narrow them down to one. On the other hand, most aspects of Christmas have been written about so many times, and by far better authors than me, that coming up with something original seems impossible.
For me, part of the problem seems to be that my ideas usually begin with a 'what if' rather than a setting. It's too late for this season, but next Christmas maybe instead of trying to narrow my writing down to one aspect, I should try combining two e.g. the Christmas ghost burned the sprouts. It will probably turn out silly again.
Not all authors are blessed with being able to make any subject a hit. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle was desperate to escape Sherlock Holmes and wrote SF/Fantasy stories about Professor Challenger and funny stories about a Napoleonic soldier, but who has seen them in the book shops? Ben Jonson was a master of stage comedies but wanted to be known as a great historical dramatist. Sadly, plays such as Sejanus flopped.
We can't all be Shakespeare, and I'm sure even he had his off days. Maybe I should be content with what I am good at.