Yesterday, I emptied the kitchen cabinets of all foodstuffs we do not intend on A) eating in the next week, or B) taking with us to the new place. Today, we view our first potential apartment. Yesterday, Housemate and I drove past it. It’s a gorgeous neighborhood, as Mr. N requested, close to Panera, where I meet with N every Tuesday. It’s near my beloved park, that I have missed over the past year, and on the same street where my delightful acquaintance, D, lives. It’s not a guarantee, but it’s a step in the right direction.
That means that, on days like this, when both Real Life Romance Hero and Housemate are at their places of employment, I get to go into full Domestic Warrior Queen mode, which, when combined with Planner Woman mode, is both satisfying and effective. This does not mean that there is no writing going on, because A) this whole “eat the elephant one bite at a time” thing applies to both writing and packing, and B) both processes go a lot faster and more smoothly when I am listening to my story playlists, with songs that keep my story hamster happily running on her wheel, no matter what my physical body might be doing.
I am not sure, yet, what the electronics situation will be when we blow this popsicle stand. A lot of that will depend on when we turn in our router, and our move-in date for our next place, whatever its location. Laptop (in need of repair) set up desktop if we are going to be in a hotel for half a month. Third option, tablet, AlphaSmart, and good old notebooks. Who are we kidding, the notebooks are coming anyway.
One thing that is markedly easier in this move (besides mental health) is that packing books is a heck of a lot easier. With the exception of a few volumes for RLRH, all of the books in our current abode are electronic. They all fit in my (and Housemate’s) purse. The others are all still in storage, and will be unpacked in the new apartment. There are times when I want to pet my physical books, pop in and revisit favorite books, authors, and characters. The ability to do that whenever I want is a big perk of the upcoming change of address. Putting my all-time favorite historical romance novels in the bookshelves my father made for toddler me will be a big indicator that we have indeed landed.
Writing, during this move, is a vert different experience than with the last one. This time, it’s not just the idea of writing, but the actual act of it. I want to get my time at the keyboard or with pen and pencil. My plotting board (big cardboard tri-fold) was a victim of the infestation, but that only means I get to pick up a new one once we are settled, or, more likely, more than one> Melva and I are agreed we are beginning the home stretch of Drama King, and it’s time to start sketching out Queen of Hearts. After that, we want to work on a collection of Christmas novellas, outside of the Love By The Book (LBTB) world.
For my solo historicals, I am chomping at the bit to get to the end of the second draft for Her Last First Kiss, and to hop back on my discovery draft of Plunder. As to finding homes for My Outcast Heart, Orphans in the Storm, and A Heart Most Errant, that will be put on pause until the moving dust has settled, but that’s still happening. The waiting room in my head is getting crowded, with all those characters demanding I tell their stories. I’d tell them to take a seat and wait, but this isn’t my first rodeo, so figuring out the best way to get those stories told is a necessity.
They (ah, the mysterious they) say that necessity is the mother of invention, and, as I go about packing our home and my writing (and art/planning) I have to agree with them. Whether it’s a place to put this oddly shaped thing, do we really need this or that, or it’s better to junk XYZ and get a new one when we have settled, the best thing to do is make a decision and move forward.
So that’s where we are right now. Putting stuff in boxes and bags, then storage unit or set aside for the truck, looking at apartments, and planning on what gets written when. All in all, it’s pretty good deal. Maybe the bedbugs did us a favor after all.
Typing With Wet Nails 