I recently moved to a new state. Sold my house. Packed everything in a truck. Hooked up my car. Drove for three days. Adventure.
There’s something about starting over. You’d think, after all my moves, that it would get old but there’s still excitement and nervousness. It’s similar when I finish a new book: query, wait for the responses to appear in my inbox. I’ve written a dozen books but I’m still excited about the possibility. Scared I’ll be rejected. Confident I can handle whatever comes. Hopeful about the new chance.
My new view is quite different from the old. I went from southern bayous to western mountains. Humid to dry. City streets to vast vistas. Hurricanes to forest fires.
I approach moving a lot like plotting. I’m very organized in the beginning. Pre-made labels. Boxes for every room. One box a day. Heavy stuff on the bottom. Lighter on the top. By the end, it’s just shove everything in a box and sort it out later.
I’m in the editing stage of unpacking now. All the boxes are gone. Everything is in a closet or on a shelf but it’s not quite in its final place. I’m organizing, rearranging, fine tuning.
I’ll put those wonderful words “THE END” on the move this weekend. I hope to put the same words on my novella trilogy soon and publish the final installment by the time my next post hits.