What ‘Last Christmas’ Taught Me About Writing

I fell in glorious battle and went to Whamhalla on 12/11 @ 12:49 pm

The Problem (Let’s Rip the Wrapping Paper Early)

Most writers overcomplicate the first chapter. We pile on lore, angst, subplots, and that one character who exists solely to monologue about destiny. And yet, the reader feels nothing. Wait, we say, we’re gonna get to the good stuff… but we’ve already lost a reader.

Why? Because the core requirement of storytelling is telling a simple, universal emotional truth that can be expressed in one line—preferably one that can be shouted in an ’80s synth-pop falsetto.

Enter “Last Christmas” by Wham!. A song so deceptively simple it’s practically a writing craft seminar in neon leg warmers and puffy shoulders.

Let’s tear into this holiday karaoke staple like Ralphie opening his Red Ryder BB gun for the storytelling lessons hidden beneath all the tinsel and heartbreak.

Lesson #1: Start With the Knife Twist

The opening line of the song is practically a writing prompt:

“Last Christmas, I gave you my heart… but the very next day, you gave it away.”

Boom.

Action. Stakes. Consequence.

That’s your inciting incident right there, delivered in sixteen words. George Michael wastes zero time on setup. No weather descriptions. No three paragraphs about snowfall mood lighting. No worldbuilding about the socio-political ramifications of gift-based cardiac transactions.

My notes:

• Open with the emotional wound. Not the bandage. Not the antiseptic. The wound.

• Readers don’t care about the holiday party until they know whose heart is about to get trampled next to the punch bowl.

Lesson #2: Characters Want Things—Even if What They Want Is to Not Get Screwed Over Again

Our hero has one desire throughout the entire song:

“This year, to save me from tears…”

Motivation. Clear. Clean. Relatable.

You can almost hear the character sheet filling itself out.

“…I’ll give it to someone special.”

That’s the story arc. The protagonist has learned. Evolved. Or at least believes they have.

My notes:

• Characters don’t need ten goals. They need one good one.

• A single, emotionally charged want is enough to drive a narrative through snowdrifts, bad sweaters, and an entire Christmas party’s worth of questionable decisions.

Lesson #3: The Hook Matters—Musical or Otherwise

One reason “Last Christmas” survives every holiday season like an immortal sugar cookie is its hook. It’s catchy. You can hear it once, and it lives rent-free in your brain until St. Patrick’s Day.

A story needs the same thing: a moment that snatches your Members Only lapels and doesn’t let go.

For Wham!, it’s that bittersweet chorus.

For your novel, it might be:

• A character’s recurring phrase

• A symbolic object

• A thematic heartbeat

• A moment that defines the emotional core

The hook is the thing the reader hums mentally when they think of your book.

If your story doesn’t have a hook, you don’t have a story; you have pages. Lots and lots of pages.

Lesson #4: Your Setting Should Match Your Emotional Tone

Let’s be honest. Nothing says “festive heartbreak” like being stuck at a cozy chalet with your ex, their new love interest, and an array of seasonal appetizers you suddenly regret eating.

Wham! understood this.

The snowy, romantic, slightly-too-perfect holiday backdrop amplifies the emotional train wreck.

If the song took place in a Walmart parking lot at 3 a.m. on December 26th, the heartbreak wouldn’t hit the same.

My notes:

• Your setting is a multiplier.

• Romance feels more romantic in the snow (I don’t know why, it just does).

• Betrayal feels sharper over the holidays.

• And tragedy always hits harder when the background music is aggressively cheerful. (I could probably do a post just on cheerful music that hides ridiculously dark lyrics.)

Lesson #5: Mystery Is Optional—Emotion Is Not

We never learn:

• Why the relationship failed

• What happened the day after

• Who the new “special someone” is

• Whether the scarf ever got returned (justice for George!)

And you know what? We don’t need to. The emotion carries the narrative.

The feeling is the plot.

As writers, we sometimes chase mystery when what we actually need is clarity.

My notes: Emotion > Exposition.

Always.

Final Thought (The Warm Mug of Cocoa at the End)

“Last Christmas” works because it knows exactly what it is:

A simple story about a universal pain wrapped in catchy melody and seasonal aesthetics.

As fiction writers, we don’t need to reinvent heartbreak, betrayal, longing, or hope.

We just need to deliver them with clarity, honesty, and maybe a killer hook.

Because all grand stories—whether they’re sung in a ski lodge or written in Scrivener—boil down to one truth:

Give your reader your heart.

And don’t let them give it away.

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Next year, I’m going to be changing this blog/newsletter/diatribe (whatever the cool kids are calling it these days). We will still talk about writing, but I am going to be producing a new non-fiction podcast, and I have a few other surprises that I am still working through. I hope you will continue the journey with me.

Tony