The celebrations of the season and New Year often mean a traditional sharing of sweets and treats. Some families love their pies, their cakes, their puddings. And then there are the cookie families.

Like my family.

But this is not a tradition I brought to our home. Oh no. This was started by my husband Bo and his mother decades ago. Every December, the old cookie press with its several little discs of molds emerges from the basement to join boxes of butter and a collection of food colorings on the counter. Hours of baking fill the house with the sweet smell of vanilla and sugar as cookie sheets and cooling racks fill and empty and fill again. By the end of the day we are surrounded by trees, camels, dogs, flowers, and stars, every one of them a mouthful of buttery, sugary delight. Though his mother died of cancer long before we could meet, I see her smile from photos on my husband’s own face as he surveys a successful batch. (I imagine she uttered the same cusses he does when a batch didn’t turn out, either.)

Traditions like these fill our senses with memories cherished, memories we want to share with those we love.

Tradition does not mean that the living are dead, it means that the dead are living. -Harold MacMillan

But not all traditions need to be prized this way. In fact, some traditions are worth a change or two.

Growing up, Christmastime was a frenzy of music rehearsals, recitations, caroling trips, and church services from the first week of Advent until Epiphany. As a parent, I wanted to end that chaos (well, the extreme of that chaos) and start something new:

Baking.

Soooooo many people baked! Soooooo many recipes and books and plates full of things with sprinkles and chocolate chips and frosting-art that looked like it took HOURS to complete.

I wanted in. Despite my kitchen fires, despite my ineptitude reading recipes, I wanted in.

I wanted to prove I could start something new. My kids didn’t need to frantically run from nursing home to church to school and back again singing themselves hoarse as I did throughout my childhood. This new tradition could be sweet like my husband’s. Different, of course–I’m not competing with his spritz. I just wanted to prove I could make things they enjoy too, things they would want to make themselves in twenty years for their little ones.

So that meant sticking with simple recipes I could follow that don’t involve cookie presses or elaborate frosting kits. Just lots of chocolate and sugar, right?

Not quite.

There is still…the butter.

See, a whole stick of butter equals half of a cup. But my brain kept reading “1 cup of butter” as “1 stick of butter.” These are not the same thing, as my first batch of crinkle cookies taught me. Oh, I had plenty of sugar, and even some festive red and green food coloring. But dagnabit, the dough would NOT form correctly. I had more red and green sand than anything else.

Also, “softened” butter and “melted” butter are not the same. One recipe for caramel chocolate bars called for melted butter, which made the mixing process easy. When I saw some cranberry oatmeal bars called for “softened” butter, my brain jumped to “melted.” Isn’t melted butter just butter that’s extra-softened? I’d say so! Yeah…no. The oats turned to goo, making them impossible to cut and share with others. Spooned into a bowl pretty well, though. 😊

Then came the cinnamon.

Now my kids aren’t cinnamon kids. If sugar and/or chocolate ain’t involved, don’t talk to them. My husband, though, agreed to try some cinnamon chip cookies with me.

Assuming I didn’t start them on fire, anyway.

You bet your sprinkles I triple-checked those ingredients. Cinnamon chips AND ground cinnamon. Baking soda, not powder. Granulated sugar, not powder. Cream of tartar, not tartar sauce. An eighth of a teaspoon and not a grain more of salt. Don’t forget the flour! And 1 CUP of SOFTENED butter.

No melting this time: I got two sticks, confirmed they did indeed equal one cup, and left them in the mixing bowl until they were squishy. Every direction in that recipe I reread twice before I did it, and again after I did it in case I derailed. But soon I did indeed have a mound of sweetly spiced dough before me, easily to roll and press until the cookie sheet time after time until a dozen circles appeared. After ten minutes, I opened the door to a haze of cinnamon and 12 little circles. Not pancakes. Not puddings. Just wee cookies like the cookbook showed.

I stood before my husband with a lone cookie and furrowed face. “Well?”

Bo raised an eyebrow and tentatively reached out. “These the cinnamon ones?”

“Mmhmm.”

He broke the cookie in half and sniffed. Popped a half in his mouth. Sucked air. “Veeery cinnamony.” He quickly grabbed his milk, and my heart sank. But then he wiped his mouth. “No no, dear, they’re good! Just a bit warm. Did you cool them yet?”

Ooops.

Once again I missed a step.

But we all have our missteps as we find our way to new traditions. What matters is we don’t let ourselves get mired in the frustration, confusion, or melted butter. We must keep trying. With the right ingredients and loving hand, we will find our way.

As I approach the ten-year anniversary of Jean Lee’s World, I look back on all trials and experiments I experienced on this writing journey. I’ve toyed around with different platforms of social media. I’ve tried different ways to manage this blog. I’ve published with a publisher, and on my own. I’ve tried writing serials and short fiction and novels.

We often hear of methods we should try as well as avoid in order to gain an audience, a following, a contract. Some are “tried and true,” traditional methods that authors have used for decades. But we needn’t stick with one way of doing things just because “that’s how it’s always been done,” especially in a publishing environment that has flipped the “traditional” form on its head these past ten years. We may also find a strategy we liked following ten years ago no longer suits us.

And that is okay.

Tradition is a guide and not a jailor. –W. Somerset Maugham

As I venture into 2025, I’m eager to revisit some of my established “traditions” with my writing life to see what can change. It was wonderful to return this summer and find my way to stay, and I don’t want to lose that momentum as I continue working on my WIP.

So stay tuned, my fellow creatives. Let us see what breaks, what returns, and what forges anew. x

Read on, share on, and write on, my friends!