Summer is quickly getting away on me. Between this post and the last post, I was called back to work for a 4-week contract, and then extended until the end of August. This has a whiff of Magic Fairy Dust about it, as it is both impeccably timed and helps hugely in covering the costs of the move.  I’m not a superstitious person, but things appear to be falling in place. Moving my medical care to Vancouver has proved relatively straightforward, I have a tentative idea of what the cost of a U-box will be and how large, and the the cat appears to like her new flight-approved carrier. Bizarrely, she plays with it, goes inside of her own accord and kept crying to a minimum when I took her for a drive. She doesn’t normally freak out so I’m hoping for an uneventful and minimally hysterical day of flying for both of us. (She gets mad, tho’. Boy howdy, can she get mad.)

The only thing not in clear view is the apartment, and we’re still a bit early to lay claim to one. I just have to trust that the issue will resolve itself. Meanwhile, I’ve mentally sized up the contents of my apartment, mapped out the dimensions of the solitary pod that will fit only about half my life into it, and started making cuts. Vicious, maybe, but necessary. I think back to how minimally I lived when working way up north, and how much I liked it. It will be good to pare down, slough off the things I have kept too long. Long overdue, and I’m antsy for it now. Still, can’t start to early — living in boxes for two months is no good, either.

Writing-wise, I’m just trying to stay on top of everything. Slushing continues to be educational, I’ve sent two submissions out for stories I have been sitting on way too long, finished drafting two new short stories that need to be edited and then reviewed by critters — and speaking of which, critiques for STAR DOOR are coming in. Earlier than I’d hoped, and encouraging, too. Not that there isn’t work to do, but these are things I think I can fix. My local writing group will be chewing over it, and me, during a mid-August meeting. Very excited, and nervous. I’m hoping to put what everyone’s said to good use through the month of September so that when things are settled after the move I will be in a position where I can query agents and find unguarded slush piles in the interim.

However, I’m in the uncomfortable position of not working on a novel. Yes, there is BLOOD to be read and scribbled on (that’s an August task), and editing thereafter, but I haven’t been writing a novel draft, something fresh, since January. I’ve had to write new material for STAR DOOR, and certainly will for BLOOD when it’s time for that, but nothing new. STAR DOOR was written summer to mid-fall last year, and BLOOD was the rewrite of a novel I’d been nursing for two years.

My brain/muse has been happily chirping with options, and trying to herd that bag of cats has been entertaining. One is being tucked away for after I’ve been in Vancouver a year. Another needs a heck of a lot more love and research before that gels enough to get started. A few others are sadly waving from their back-burners, over-heating, possibly scalding their pots, but it can’t be helped. I picked one because I think it can be the most fun, has the most ideas in play, and has a cast of characters starting to come together that have the potential to have some really good arguments — and once I’d decided, yes, you, little fella, you’re it, BOOM, it’s moved right on in. Putting up scaffolding, inviting its friends to help with the heavy lifting, making suggestions about the carpet, the wallpaper, the paint.

I’m really spoiled for choice on what to work on right now, which has the bad (terrible, nay poisonous) tendency to paralyze me.

The answer to that? More lists, prioritizing, knocking off tasks. Break it down, take it in pieces. The work will get done.

And I can do that.

Two months. Every so often, I say it out loud, and my body doesn’t know whether to squeal or freak the fuck out.

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