Moving, unpacking, canning, and winterizing. This is what preoccupied my time for three months. Am I ready to tear into the words of my novel-in-progress, Talking Mama Home? You better believe it. Actually, I’ve been extra cranky, moody, and down right growly. My heart aches, even, and I knew early on that I was suffering from writer’s inactivity. I tried getting up early like is my habit, but this old body needed that extra sleep after months of being uprooted and landing in a new place. I kept telling myself there is a time and a season for everything. But, toward the end, it didn’t stop me from being a grumpy mama bear out of hibernation.
Now that the rains have come and our main living space is unpacked and orderly, I can rewrite. Just yesterday, my husband and I unpacked his computer and rearranged the office to give us better working space. The view from my desk? A mountain full of fir trees with some scattered shades of gold to announce it’s autumn.
My itchy fingers dove into taking notes from all the collected suggestions over the past year: Agents wrote personal letters after reading my queries, partials, and full manuscript. My critique group's (a great bunch of writers and friends) suggestions from last December on how to make Talking Mama Home the best story I am able to write. And to give the story a rest until I can compare notes from the experts. Up until then, we weren’t sure of the age group. This past June, I wrote in a cover letter my story was for ages 9-12, the agent agreed. After thinking it was for young adults for nine years, but then doubting that for over a year, this was confirmation. It feels right.
I’m a happy writer once again, taking a-time-to-write seriously. And cheers for being on a roll!