I write this post while sitting in my fancy-shmancy new office located on the *main* floor of our humble abode – and get this – it has a door!
Feast your eyes on this:
Oooooo baby. Clean desktop. Pooling-light lamp. A chair that forces me to sit up straight and stay focused.
I need change these days. Serious change that will directly affect my writing life. And one of things that I’ve been struggling with is the space I write in. I haven’t been using my main office (the one downstairs…ah heck, here’s a picture):
…to write in. Other writing-related business, yes, I’ve been doing that, but I haven’t felt…at home or expressive in the space. Not sure if it’s because it’s always messy (which I know at some point this new office will also become, and I’m okay with it so long as the mess is novel-related) or if it’s because it’s in the basement or if it’s because I’m using the previous two reasons to procrastinate getting any actual creative writing done…It’s probably a bit of all three. But there’s no doubt I’ve been feeling claustrophobic (By the way, I just realized that I’ve been saying claustrophobic wrong my whole life. The ‘r’ is before the ‘o’ – so it’s not claustORphobic. Crazy.) down there.
So in an effort to clear out my writing space, enjoy writing in an actual room with four walls and a door and a window, I (and the hubby) moved my ‘office’. (The hubby was so perfect – down under the table plugging everything in then using little plastic zip cords to make it all neat and pretty. Gah. Grateful.)
I will finish my novel in this office. You can quote me on this.
Also, *wait for it*…I cut my hair!
I’ve been wanting to cut my hair for a long time, but hadn’t the guts to do it. Guts, you say…you need guts to cut your hair? Yes. Why yes I do. See, it’s one thing to pull long hair back into a ponytail and have no hair in your face, but it’s a whole other thing to have no hair to pull back – and then let back down. I feel like my long hair was a message to myself that I’m a ‘girl’ or rather girl-y. And I liked my curls – when weren’t a frizzy messball. It allowed me to cover up my face too.
I’ll admit that I wanted to grow it long enough that it would cover my boobs if I was naked. Um. It just wasn’t happening. My hair was growing OUT not DOWN. And so…I got this urge to just cut it all off. Then the urge turned into motivation for me to change my diet, start making healthier choices with my sleep habits and my exercise habits because (and maybe this is weird) but I feel like I need my body to feel like it’s ready for short hair. My face too. Nowadays there are lots gals with short hair. I love this. It’s nice to look around and see girls with the style of hair I truly love.
With this urge came discipline with food choices. I lost some weight. I called my hairdresser (the super-fabulous Jeanette Dufour-Amoral) and made an appointment. I even bought a ‘hair’ magazine and found the style of cut I wanted.
I wore my hair down the week before my appointment. So I could feel its length on my shoulders and back (it never made it to my boobs, ‘member), and (again maybe more weirdness) I said my goodbyes. To my hair.
As my dark locks were chopped, chiseled and shaved off, I felt lighter and lighter and righter and righter. I watched as my face, that face I’d been searching for in the mirror for far too long, I watched her emerge. Oh there you are! I said to myself giddily. (And I promptly wrote a poem about this.) I feel the most ‘me’ I’ve felt in a long time.
Now, my new hair matches my new office and my very new, very exciting energy that keeps my tummy in rond-de-jambes mostly all day.
I just feel ready. Ready to take this novel of mine on. Ready to go head first into a finish line that I can’t quite see yet, but that I know is there. And I’m gonna work my toosh off to get to that finish line and bust through the ribbon.
I can’t make any promises to you in terms of what you’ll read from me on this blog for the next three-to-four months. I don’t want to make any promises except the one that has me writing my heart out and finishing my novel. Goodies like my guest writer posts might wane or stop…but they’ll pick up again.
I’d like to thank you for always reading…and supporting me. Those of us connected through the ethernet. You know my cable line goes directly out my heart and straight to yours.
Keep me on it. Keep me plugged in. I’ll be here. Finishing a dream…I mean, my novel.