No picture of the new Stately Bowling Manor as of yet, as it’s all boxes and cat hair and furniture in the middles of rooms. Definitely not fit for public consumption, but I love it and wouldn’t have it any other way. Monday, the three of us spent hauling furniture and boxes our of our storage unit, and up two flights of stairs. We did agree that for some of the heavier pieces, like my beloved secretary desk, we should wait until we can find some strapping young people who can be paid in pizza, so we now have folding desks for both Real Life Romance Hero and myself, which double as nightstands, and our bedside lamps are Wal-Mart’s finest. We have the skeleton pillows a dear friend gave us a year ago, on the bed, along with burgundy plaid flannel sheets and a berry and white afghan Housemate knitted back in our first Albany apartment.
This is wildly different from where we were only a few short weeks ago, and there is a learning curve. I thought that the transition to apartment living would be pretty much plug and play, but it’s something else, and I am fine with that. I actually like the idea of a fresh start, and going through the stuff we put away for our next home is interesting when it’s the people we were who packed it but the people we are who are unpacking.
Right now, I am composing this blog entry because getting back on the metaphorical horse is paramount. RLRH came home early, and my first instinct was to ask him to make lunch, because I’m writing. That felt good. Having a desk I can sit at in the morning also feels good, and the fact that “writing plan” is in bold black ink on today’s space in my big planner doesn’t feel daunting, but exciting. I can go anywhere.
By my estimation, Melva and I are only a few scenes away from the first full draft of our second contemporary, Drama King, and something is afoot for an upcoming historical release. Still need to reconnect with Her Last First Kiss, which, for me, is going to mean talking it out with a writer friend who knows historical romance, the Georgian era, and my writing well enough to help me still the pinwheel in my brain. (Applications for the position are officially open.) I am not entirely convinced that a manuscript doesn’t have to be perfect in order to make a good book, but I am on the road there, one step at a time.
I thought about NaNo this year. It would make a lot of sense, and if I can comfortably produce one unit of writing (I count by “units” now, which for me is about 1 to 1.5 k words in a session) a day, then 16+k isn’t that much more, so not totally out of reach. Maybe when the first Camp NaNo rolls around in the spring. Right now, I am focused on taking the next steps and getting back to finding out what Current Anna can do.
What I know for sure is that she/I can tell stories. I love to tell stories. I don’t have to reach every reader, only my readers, and what my readers want is what I have to give, so trying to follow trends or be like anybody else, no matter how much I may admire their work, doesn’t make any sense. Making sure I connect with those readers, well, that is another thing, but not something I need to concern myself with at present, because books are the way to connect writer and reader, so making sure the books get written and out there is job one. That, I can do.
I’ll leave that here for today. I’ve missed blogging regularly, and now that I have one place to be, and a fairly regular schedule, my goal is to get back to the thrice a week posting, and am strongly looking at resuming the video blogs of yore, with perhaps a wider focus. We’ll see how that goes.. For now, time to help RLRH set up the clothing rack.I get adult points for that, right?