Posted on: 2008-12-23

Location: Santa's Office -- North Pole

Mr Santa Claus, CEO, Christmas, Inc., Order of the Holly - First Class, Keeper of the Candy Cane, and Patron to the Society for the Protection of Reindeer, reclined in his office chair, and reviewed his To Do list. Gift orders appeared on track, elf morale had climbed to an all time high, and the reindeers had worked very hard during the third week of their conditioning program, getting stronger each day. Satisfied that all of the most important issues were under control, he had a few quiet minutes before his next meeting and used the time to check the RSS feeds from the DWG boards.

As a fan of Jane Austen, and lamenting the fact she was no longer alive to continue creating new stories, one day, while surfing the Internet, he happened upon the Derbyshire Writers' Guild. Delighted at finding so many others who longed for more tales, he spent many happy hours were passed reading the postings and delving into the Epilogue Abbey, the Fantasia Gallery, and reading messages in the Tea Room. The DWG site provided him with a means of entertainment in the frozen landscape of the icy north, in addition to offering brief mental breaks from all of the hard work leading up to the annual festive season.

He preferred to keep his preference for Jane Austen as an author private, not knowing what the elves, or anyone else in Christmas, Inc., would think of their CEO enjoying stories that involved romance, longing, disasters, estrangements, reconciliations, and, on occasion, varying levels of angst. The North Pole's NORRIS (Northern Overseas Region Relative Internet Service) portal provided the interface for his private access to www.austen.com. Mr Claus visited the boards often, but did not have the nerve to post, as he couldn't decide on an appropriate alias, as his name, and the other names he was also known by, such as Nicholas and Kris, were too well known. He eventually summoned the courage to confess his love of the DWG to his wife, only to find that she, anonymously, frequented the site as well, and had even begun to write her own fan fiction. After their shared confessions, she asked her marital partner to act as her beta. The couple spent many pleasant evenings in their private ice caves, sipping on hot chocolate, with Mrs C writing, and Mr C researching the background for her stories.

Of all of those people in the world who choose to purchase gifts for others, Mr and Mrs Claus, surely, had the most difficult tasks of all. He held the supreme responsibility for all Christmas gift giving; therefore, his spouse had the ultimate challenge in finding surprises for him. Marvelling every year at his wife's ability to select the perfect present, and then keep it secret until offering it to him the week before Christmas (due to his position he had a special dispensation for receiving gifts early), she finally documented her research in this area in a PhD thesis, "Gift Selection for the Most Difficult of Recipients". The thesis had proven useful in determining presents for the most senior person at the North Pole, which had an added benefit as the PEMBERLEY (Procedure Ensuring Maximum Benefit Enabling Recipient Enjoyment (TAG: of) Yuletide) process she had established, also helped Santa choose gifts for his wife.

While preparing her thesis, Mrs Claus's discovered that writing fanfic assisted her thought processes. She alternated between her academic writing, and her fanfic chapters, and over the years her muse had always responded when required. After becoming stuck on one particular aspect of one of her later fan fiction stories, she found her muse had become selective about co-operating with her writing. She also lamented the absence of P.LO.T.s (Possible Leads On Thoughts), and the unique breed of bunnies (sylvilagus fabella) who were adept at encouraging P.L.O.T.s to develop (commonly known as P.L.O.T. Bunnies, or PB's). She had never really needed PB's, as her muse had been so reliable. So, a few Christmasses ago, after mentioning her erratic muse to her husband, he established a "Société pour Pôle Nord Histoire de Lapin"" (the Society for North Pole Story Rabbits/Bunnies), and made his wife it's chief patron. The Society was dedicated to the preservation and conservation of bunnies skilled in aiding authors the development of fanfic stories. The PB patron found the bunnies associated with the society very useful in assisting her fanfic output, particularly when her muse acted less than co-operatively. She found that the more the PB's played, the more she could write -- soon realising that when the PB's were lively and high-spirited, her indifferent muse did not matter nearly as much. She was so intrigued by this pattern of behaviour; she thought it might form the basis of some future academic study.

The last time Mrs Claus had difficulty in writing, the PB's had complained that they were tired and did not have the energy to play. This meant that for the first time in quite a while, Mrs Claus needed to fall back on her muse. However, just when she needed it most, her muse could not be located. Due to her increasing reliance on the PB's, she learned that her muse had absented itself, perhaps thinking it had been ignored or no longer required. When she advised her husband of the situation, he became concerned that until the muse was recovered and/or the PB's rested, her fanfic production would diminish. Knowing, as her trusted beta, that no matter how much he encouraged her creativity; dedicated time to plan and problem solve her current plot difficulties, or prodded, pleaded, cajoled, coerced, or flattered his wife and her writing, it would have little effect on restoring her output, if her muse remained truant.

In an attempt to assist in recovering the missing muse, Santa first tried an old and trusted remedy -- prescribing a large amount of chocolate in both liquid, and solid forms. Mrs Claus enjoyed the prescription, but found that it produced little in the way of results with her fanfic, and that there was a disastrous side effect -- her weight began to balloon, so she decided to end the treatment immediately. As this therapy failed to restore her inspiration, her husband decided upon a different, non-food related approach, choosing to hand over the issue to the Creative Automation Research Options (C.A.R.O.) section of the Elf IT Department.

C.A.R.O. researched the issue, but never asked the North Pole executive why he deemed the recovery of Mrs Claus's muse so important -- they just enjoyed new challenges. Mr Claus gratefully accepted this, not knowing how to explain to the elves about his wife's enjoyment of writing fanfic, and his enjoyment of reading it.

The elves had little success in creating an apparatus that could discover or track down muses and, as an alternative, they thought they should try and stimulate or induce muse friendly conditions. This saw the development of a prototype muse inducer -- using technology called L.I.N.E (Literary Inducing Nano Engineering). On testing the device, code named CAROLINE, they discovered that it still had a few bugs. One particularly challenging error occurred whenever the name Darcy appeared in the coding. When recognising that code, the device would squeal loudly, and emitting an overpowering orange-coloured smoke. Elf IT decided that they required further software development and testing before they could consider CAROLINE a possible solution to the muse problem, as its reliability and integrity could not be trusted.

Due to the absence of her muse, the lethargy of the PB's, and the problems with CAROLINE, Mrs Claus took a break from writing fanfic and, instead, focussed her efforts on finding a very special present for her husband, something to accompany him on his world tours. She was delighted with her purchase of a top-of-the-line COLLINS software programme (Computerised Oral Literary Linkage Input Node (TAG: for) Sleighs). COLLINS was a high speed speech recognition programme designed for compatibility with the de Bourgh laptop mounted in Santa's sleigh. The sleigh, a Rudolph Reliance XOX, came equipped with deluxe weather radar, and a GPS system. The additional software for the de Bourgh laptop would enable access to RSS feeds, chapters, even entire stories from the DWG archives, and COLLINS would read them aloud while Santa travelled in intercontinental mode, across the oceans, on auto-pilot. This would provide something to occupy the time between present delivery areas. He only hoped that some of the existing DWG works in progress would be updated by Christmas Eve, so that COLLINS could access some new and interesting fanfic postings to read along the way.

Santa was pleased that there was now an alternate voice on his laptop, as the default de Bourgh tone was rather grating, and barked instructions aloud, instead of flashing up error screens. The first time the laptop had shouted "Recharge my batteries, immediately!" he had nearly fallen from the sleigh, but as he became used to the voice and its unusual commands, he found some of them amusing, such as "Hit delete button, NOW! Close that window; the content is insupportable! His current favourite, was one that had been yelled when the COLLINS software was loaded - "Are the shades of Microsoft to be thus polluted?"

Having read the newest postings for The End is Where We Started From, Nothing Wanting, Expectations, Longbourn's Unexpected Matchmaker, and P&P in the Fandom, the rising angst in some of the tales distressed Santa Claus, and he hoped that thoughts of such things would not distract him from the rush to have every gift ready for the global journey, set to begin in a few days time. He reached for the phone, about to call Mrs Claus to hear her thoughts on the latest chapters, when a knock at the door brought him back to the real world. It would be difficult to explain to the elves our secret obsession for fan fiction, if it was ever to be discovered!

"Who knocks at my door? said the jolly man, in a cheery, but somewhat distracted tone.

He heard, in reply, a happy reply from the hallway, "Elf Austen to see you, sir."

With a greater sense of self control, he uttered a deep, resonant, "Please enter.

The elf walked in, laptop under his arm, moving at once to seat himself in one of the large red velvet chairs placed in front of the desk. Holiday music filtered through the room, lending the office a festive air.

Smiling broadly at one of his most trusted elves, Santa said, "Ah, Elf Austen, it is good to see you. Now, I understand you need some advice. How may I be of assistance?" The dimples of the Christmas Inc. CEO were clearly evident.

The elf began in an earnest tone, "It's about the elf mail I sent you earlier today. We require some assistance with a unique request we have received."

Beaming at the elf, the jolly gentleman replied, "Yes, I read your note, briefly, but ask that you refresh my memory. Surely, there is nothing out of the ordinary, or too extreme?"

"Everything that our department is usually asked for continues to be popular: two new front teeth, new boyfriends or girlfriends, a better paying job, ways to lose weight, and faster Internet connections. However, there is a new one that seems rather difficult to achieve."

Santa sighed. There always seemed to be some new, challenging desire to fulfil. "So, tell me what is it this year? People seeking another Colin Firth movie with a wet shirt scene, or Matthew Macfadyen striding purposefully towards them through the mist?"

Elf Austen rolled his eyes -- pleas for the various actors who had portrayed the role of Fitzwilliam Darcy in versions of Pride and Prejudice had frequently appeared in the list of Christmas wishes, ever since Sir Lawrence Olivier had first played the part back in 1940. This caused numerous difficulties for the elves, due to the large number of letters received each year asking for meetings and romantic interludes with the actors involved. Since the recent television and movie adaptations of that story, in addition to others produced from Jane Austen novels, the Boundaries Involving New Gifts Left Each Yuletide (BINGLEY) Policy at the North Pole, had been rewritten to specify that only licensed movies, or TV series, released via media such as DVD, would ever be considered, let alone delivered as Christmas gifts, not the actors that appeared in them. "No; the technology department have that aspect well in hand. It seems that the release of Mamma Mia on DVD satisfied this year's demand for Colin Firth wet shirt material. Matthew MacFadyen fans are proving a little more difficult to appease, due to the current production of Little Dorrit not yet being available for purchase. But fans of the MM persuasion may benefit next Christmas, when that mini-series should be distributed."

The top administrator of Christmas, Inc. rose and paced his office, "I do admit to being a little concerned that we will disappoint some fans, but I am pleased that the BINGLEY Policy seems to work so well. You have me most intrigued -- what else could you possibly find so challenging?" he asked with a chuckle.

"This year, we have received a large number of letters asking for" paused briefly, Elf Austen wrinkled his nose, then cleared his throat." ..ahem...muses."

"Muses?" Although he tried to sound surprised, he was fully aware of this type of request -- after all, Mrs Claus had asked for a muse just last Christmas. He thought that maybe, just maybe, something else might be known as a muse, so, seeking more information, he asked, while trying to appear non-plussed, "This request hasn't appeared widely before, are we sure it is not some new sort of game?"

Elf Austen was patient with Santa, understanding that his boss had much on his mind at this time of year. "No, muses are not games." If they were, this situation would be handled by the Games Department. "Muses are sources of inspiration for music; songs; art; poetry; and, in terms of writing, ideas to begin, further, or finish stories."

It was just as he thought -- this was the same problem that his wife had complained of, and, obviously, it had now become widespread. I only hope it is not some sort of contagious virus -- that is the last thing we need now. "Stories? Are the requests from any particular source?" asked Santa, whilst alternating from his DWG message board screen to the workshop's gift production statistics.

"Yes, the main volume of letter writers seem to emanate from a group who call themselves" stopping briefly to check his laptop, to ensure that the unusual name was correctly said "... Dwiggies, though there are also quite a few others who write something generally known as fanfic."

Suddenly, the jolly man's cheeks turned very red, rivalling the main colour of his suit. "Should I be familiar with these Dwiggies?" he asked, innocently, while quickly closing, rather than minimised, his NORRIS web screen.

"Probably not, sir. I have done some research into the Dwiggies, and they seem a friendly bunch. We are keen to help their writers and betas who have asked for muses, but don't quite know how to go about it."

Yes, they do seem very friendly. Just as well I do not post on the DWG site -- Elf Austen's inquiry could have uncovered my secret obsession! "Do we know why they have sought muses?" queried the head of Christmas, Inc.

"The elves investigating this case have not yet fully identified the reason for the requests; however, they did notice that in an area called the Tea Room, a number of their members mentioned that they did not know what to write next in their stories, and indicated that they could only blame missing muses."

"It sounds plausible. I have heard of similar problems in the past, but I understand that the P.L.O.T. bunnies are usually able to assist when a muse is absent."

"Ah. That is another problem," said the elf. "We believe the P.L.O.T bunnies have some influence on story development, but, in this case, they seem partially at fault for this situation. They have gone on early vacation, sir; they believe themselves overworked."

Santa looked puzzled. His wife had only mentioned that the PB's were a little less active than normal, not that they were missing. "Overworked? They have had no greater workload than anyone else here. Where have they gone?"

"A number of places, but mainly places related to carrots."

"Carrots?" His astonishment at hearing this information was clearly evident to the diligent elf. He raised his hand towards his chin, and stroked his snowy beard slowly, trying to digest this turn of events.

"Yes, they intended to visit the cities that lay claim to being the carrot capitals of the world."

"Such as?"

"Holtville, California; Ohakune, New Zealand; and Bradford, England - the home of the World Carrot Museum."

"With that variety of destinations, they'll be difficult to track down, let alone persuade them to return quickly. I'd like to know who approved that early leave? Mrs Claus made no mention of it; if she had any inkling of their plan, she surely would have stopped it -- the PB's had merely mentioned to her that they were tired. I did make it clear that no one was to be granted leave in the weeks leading up to Christmas, didn't I?"

"You did, sir, but it appears that Elf Willoughby recommended the leave, and Elf Wickham approved it. The requirement for final authorisation from the PB patron was ignored. The PB's absence went undiscovered until some queries came through to Elf Help -- the PB's elf-mail inbox now exceeds 1,000 items, all unanswered. We've attempted to contact them, but all we get in return in an away message that reads: We will return in the New Year. Please hold all story development until then. Thank you for contacting P.L.O.T. Bunny Story Development. A similar notice is fixed on the door of their office hutch."

"Well, it appears that Elves Willoughby, and Wickham continue to flaunt the rules laid out in the North Pole Employee Code of Conduct, and the Policy Regarding Leave in the Lead Up to Christmas. They have never shown any sense or sensibility." He shook his head and said sadly, "I shall have to reassign them to the Sanditon Regiment for Retired Reindeers."

"Sanditon would be better than Northanger Abbey -- that is a little too near to the Lambton district. Knowing those particular elves, they could still cause problems remotely; should we ensure that their NORRIS Internet and elf-mail accesses are suspended in the meantime?"

"Excellent suggestion! They will not need those accesses to care for aging reindeer. Just a shovel, and a breathing apparatus, and, perhaps, a pitch fork. I shall arrange it all through the EMMA department."

"EMMA?"

"To give a better idea of their expanded role, the Elf IT department has just been renamed the Elf Management and Maintenance Area -- they have had a remarkable year, and deserved a broader area of responsibility. They can handle both the system suspensions and the equipment issues."

"But that still leaves the problem with the muses, in particular the Dwiggies."

"Ehmm," The jolly old man's face resumed a bright red hue." I have heard of the Dwiggie writers' stories; I admit my surprise that you have not -- they do favour the novels of an author called Austen -- rather a co-incidence don't you think?"

"Possibly" he said shrugging his slim shoulders; I never knew the reason I was called Austen. My mother died not long after I was born -- all I know is that she came from an elf area called Mansfield Park."

"Jane Austen - an excellent author. Highly regarded but, alas, no longer with us." In order to deflect his thorough understanding of the Dwiggies' situation, he chose to ask the elf some further questions. "Have the Dwiggies had any assistance?"

"Oh, yes, sir, in addition to the writers requesting muses for Christmas there are people who help them with their stories, known as "betas" -- our investigations show they all work very hard to create stories for the reader Dwiggies. It seems that despite all the efforts of the betas, they still cannot restore or find the muses."

"I do feel for them. This situation must be very frustrating for them: authors, betas, readers, all." he replied in all seriousness before asking, "Have you discovered anything to stimulate the muses or to help restore them?"

"I have heard that, at times, they can be stimulated by such things as chocolate, but scientific proof is lacking."

He thought it was time to come clean on some aspects of Mrs Claus's situation, without disclosing the full details. "I am aware of a recent test -- and the results of the chocolate process were, indeed, unsuccessful. A technical stimulation solution, developed by our own C.A.R.O area was also tried, but their prototype has not been fully proven, and still has some rather alarming bugs. I am reluctant to deliver an item that could offer more cruelty than kindness."

"That is a pity, had it been successful, we could have scheduled some overtime to produce at least a few units."

"I do not think it worth the risk; the prototype, code named CAROLINE, still shows erratic behaviour -- we could not take the risk of distributing such an unstable product," the rotund administrator sighed, trying to disguise his intimate knowledge of their situation.

"I understand," replied the elf, disappointedly. "But what else can we do?"

"Perhaps I have something that could assist." Santa had to share some of his experience. "I just remembered that my wife cited a similar problem last year -- it was one of the things that led to the work on CAROLINE."

"If CAROLINE had intermittent behavioural issues, how did you help Mrs Claus?"

"I found some old advice, that does not necessarily restore a muse, but gives hope that at some time it will return." He rose from his chair and moved over to the bookcase. He pulled a very aged, leather bound volume from a lower shelf, walked back, and placed the tome on his desk. While carefully turning the large pages, he said, "Until the muse inducer becomes more reliable, and the P.L.O.T. bunnies come back to their hutch, we must leave people some hope and give them confidence that missing muses will return." Working his way through the book, he came across what he had been looking for. "Ah, here it is, under Restorative Suggestions for Muses. Some good cheer - no doubt about that, a few days rest -- that certainly might help, excellent company, a measure of carols, an excellent repast..."

"Repast?" questioned Elf Austen, unfamiliar with the term.

"Oh, I am reading what is there -- it is an older term for a meal -- we are aware that people do like to share a meal at Christmas?"

"Oh, yes, Santa" said Elf Austen, typing the information straight into his KENT (Keen Elf Note Taker) programme. He listened intently while the rest of the steps were revealed, to ensure he recorded them correctly. "But how should we deliver this information?"

Considering the query for a moment he finally responded, "A good question. It should be prepared as an elf-mail, or an elf-blog. For the wording and format it would be best to consult Elf Catherine."

The good elf gulped loudly enough that Santa could hear. "Elf Catherine? Are you sure that she is the best person to assist with this?" Elf Austen could not believe what he was hearing. She was the last person he wished to visit this day.

"Quite certain. She loves to be of use."

Elf Catherine, now known as "Lady Cat", was the eldest elf at the North Pole. Now frail, and a shadow of her former self, she remained a formidable personage, who was referred to for advice, and for her intimate knowledge of Christmas, Inc. history. The honorary title "Lady" was always given to the oldest female elf in Santa's enterprise, and it was no surprise to anyone that Lady Cat outlived all other female elves of her time, holding the title for the past 20 years, just as her mother, Lady Susan, had done earlier in the previous century.

"I understand, sir," said Elf Austen in all politeness, but with a little less conviction than normal. "..er...I'm just glad we can do something for these requests -- even in the absence of the P.L.O.T. bunnies. I shall go to her immediately."

After briefing his CEO on the delivery forecast for the other unique requests, and confirming their delivery to the sleigh, he departed to visit Lady Cat, thanking Santa for his time and assistance.

While pleased he might have something with which to reply to the requests for muses, the involvement of Lady Cat in the process took away some of the joy associated with gift giving. Elf Austen felt that if he must consult the elderly elf, he wanted to go to get it over and done with as soon as possible.

If they could, the elves, each and every one of them, avoided consulting Lady Cat if at all possible. She received the respect due her, given her seniority, but truth was that she had traumatized many an elf with her acid tongue, and deafened them by her never ending tirades.

As a precaution, Elf Austen stopped past his office on the way to Lady Cat's chambers, to speak with his second in charge, Elf Dashwood. He related what he had been charged with doing, advising her that if he had not returned to their department within half an hour, she was to make contact via his ELFCOM, to request his immediate return in order to deal with a production problem. Elf Austen hated having to resort to stretching the truth, but that he felt it a necessary step due to the short amount of time left to Christmas -- there was still so much to do, and Elf Dashwood certainly understood that unless managed, a brief meeting with Lady Cat could last for hours on end.

Having put this contingency plan into place, Elf Austen left his office and walked to the Rosings wing of Christmas, Inc., to consult with Lady Cat as he had been asked. He drew a deep breath, remembering Elf Dashwood's words of advice remain polite and don't let her get to you as he knocked on the door. "Madam, Mr Claus asked that I seek your advice on how to prepare a particular Christmas message."

In a condescending tone, she responded, "I am pleased that some still see the need for my advice. What is your issue?"

He gritted his teeth momentarily before graciously replying "How to provide written advice to address a unique request, ma'am."

Lady Cat was well renowned for her knowledge of etiquette and proper behaviour. The elderly elf's air was not welcoming, and she spoke with an authoritative tone that marked her self-importance. "I suppose a hand written note is out of the question?"

It was all Elf Austen could do to maintain his composure in the face of such incivility. "Yes, your Ladyship. There are a large number of recipients who require the information." Elf Austen then explained the entire situation, and the advice that Santa Claus had recommended.

There was nothing that was beneath her attention, but she did consider all younger elves below her in rank. "Pity -- it was the only way of sending information in my day. Then, I suppose you are going to have to use one of those new fangled communications devices."

"That would be the most efficient way, ma'am."

"If that be the case, take this down." Lady Cat began dictating the manner in which the information should be relayed. She addressed all areas of requirement, and Elf Austen had to concede that her instructions were very thorough, and that her proposed method would enhance the information they intended to provide to those poor souls with lost muses.

After half an hour had elapsed, the "jingle bells" ring tone of the ELFCOM was heard not only by Elf Austen, but by Lady Cat.

"Do you not know you know to turn those things off in my presence? They play havoc with my hearing aid."

Digging deep to find the courage to defend his actions, he responded, confidently, "I do understand Lady Catherine, however our CEO issued an edict stating that all Elf Communication Modules must be left on in the week prior to Christmas. I can take the issue up with Santa, if you like."

Only Santa could cause Lady Cat to cower. It was by his generousity that she lived in her exclusive apartments, and she knew that in criticising trusted elves, she would draw censure to herself. "Pay it no heed -- I shall excuse it this once." She spoke with a patronising tone, but Elf Austen knew better -- Lady Cat did not wish to be taken to task by Mr Claus for challenging one of his edicts.

"Please, excuse me while I check this message."

She nodded her agreement.

Elf Austen struggled to keep a straight face as he read the note from Elf Dashwood. Your presence is requested immediately -- Cat-tastrophes are influencing current production. He looked up towards Lady Cat and while trying to stifle a laugh said, "It appears I must depart. There are some urgent issues that require my attention -- I shall see to it that the communication is prepared, per your direction, to deliver the advice."

"Very well, then. If you must depart, so be it" she snapped. "Ensure that you prepare the information exactly as I have specified."

He bowed deeply, trying to demonstrate his respect for her station, while tolerating her abrupt manner, eventually replying "I thank you for your time and assistance -- you have been most helpful."

She waved her hand and said in dismissal, "Be off with you."

Greatly relieved to be outside the Rosings door, Elf Austen headed immediately back to the Unique Requests Department. Glad I arranged for Dashwood to contact me -- who knows how long I could have been stuck in there.

Relieved that the meeting with Lady Cat was over, he sauntered down the corridor to his office, whistling to the jazzy version of Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas playing over the PA system. Suddenly he smiled, that with a slight change of words it could become, Have yourself a "musey" little Christmas! Santa would at least enjoy that joke! Whether the advice delivered would help restore the muses, he did not know -- But at least, he thought, it is something that the Dwiggies can work with until the PB's return to their duties.

On returning to the Unique Requests department, Elf Austen elf-mailed the formatted message, designed by Lady Cat, to Elf Watson, who managed the list of unfinished and unfulfilled wishes. This is the message he was given to prepare for distribution:

If your muse needs to be restored
To write some tales for story boards
For friends, and folk to laugh or cry
Here's a remedy you can try:
Make sure you rest both night and day,
Allow yourself some time for play,
Eat and drink, but not too much,
Otherwise you'll lose your touch,
Share time with friends, and those you adore,
Don't spend all your time shopping in stores,
Remember dreams and ideas that come,
Think happy thoughts, do not be glum,
Sing some songs, some carols, too,
Await a visit from "you know who",
Spread some faith, some hope, some cheer,
Celebrate with friends the start of the year,
Have some fun, enjoy yourself,
Our advice for muses from
Santa's Elves

That night, snuggled warmly under the down comforter, Santa Claus discussed with his wife what had occurred during the day, and read the note designed by Lady Cat. Mrs Claus found it comforting to know that that their secret life as a lurking Dwiggies had remained just that, a secret -- at least between the two of them.

They decided on a special present to give Elf Austen (as a yearend bonus for his tireless and loyal service) , a complete boxed set of Jane Austen's novels, so the elf could learn about the famous author who shared his name. As to revealing the Dwiggie Internet link, their secret love of Jane Austen's writing, and the real reason that a P.L.O.T Bunny Society had been established at the North Pole - well, that could always wait for next year.

Seasons Greetings to All.

For the benefit of other plot bunnies...here are some references to carrots, including the link to the Carrot Museum (it really exists!):
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carrot
http://www.newzealandnz.co.nz/destinations/ohakune.html
http://www.usacitiesonline.com/cacountyholtville.htm
http://www.carrotmuseum.co.uk/

And, most appropriately, there is even one carrot called "betasweet"!
http://vic.tamu.edu/main/VFICIndex/Web%20pages/f&vresearchpgs/betasweetnews/newmightmaroon.htm

As to the scientific name for PLOT Bunnies - sylvilagus fabella--
apparently there is no main genus - different rabbits and hares have different Latin names based on where they are from and what they do -- so I had to determine something that would fit (based on rushed Christmas research)
"Sylvialgus" - means a cottontail rabbit variety
"fabella" -- means a little story, fable or drama