Arriving
I arrived on time, and the drive was easy. I met Kristin, who is lovely. Kristin is the owner of the Bishop Cottage. She showed me around the house, explaining everything. She told me everything I would have told a renter, if this were my house. She explained the thermostat and the balance of airflow by keeping some doors open and some doors closed. She had her son on her hip, and he wouldn't let her put him down, so she schlepped him the whole time, which was impressive. Kids get heavy...
She showed me the main house, and then the smaller guest house in back that I originally intended to rent. I preferred the large house, which is where I am now. She said that she and her husband thought I'd be more comfortable here. At first I assumed something was wrong with the guest house in the back, when she offered me the main house for the same price. As it turns out, though, she really did just think I'd like the main house more.
She handed over the key, and I handed over the remaining $220... then searched for $30 more in crumpled bills at the bottom of my bag. Ha.
She was close to my age... maybe early 30's? She had a newish volvo station wagon with her husband's dry cleaning hanging in the back seat, next to the child seat. She was in her suburban-mom comfort pants. A couple of years ago I would have assumed a lot of things about her.
She asked, somewhat carefully, what I'm writing about. I just started talking. I told her I work in technology, in the internet, and that there's a lot to say, and that I'm writing a Sci Fi story, and that there's a dearth of female sci fi writers. I think I probably prattled a bit because I'm shy about writing Science Fiction. I'm self conscious about it, so I make excuses. I should just own it, really.
Then we said goodbye. She told me she and her husband were so excited to have me here, working. She seemed very interested in me, which made me feel good. I liked her. I like being here, and I'm taking special care of their house... much better care than I take of my own.
Getting Settled
So then, she left. I pulled all my things inside and unpacked a bit. I put my toiletries in the bathroom, and hung up my vest in the little closet with hooks instead of hanger rods. I set up my computers at the dining room table and set out the books I brought. I plugged in my ipod dock/speaker donut thing and set out a few things to make the place feel like my own. I checked my work email and changed my outfit. I have no idea why I changed. I just like to do that. It feels like a new phase of something when I change my clothes. At the last party Andrew and I had, I changed my outfit 4 times.
I went to the grocery store and spent about $135 on a week's worth of groceries. That's Hamptons living, I guess. I came home and put everything away. I turned the TV on for a bit and ate some snacks. Then I shut the TV off and went into the dining room to write.
It was dark already, and the dining room has entirely wooden walls, stained in a dark brown. So the dining room felt different than it had earlier. It felt isolated from the rest of the house and sort of creepy. I didn't love it in there. I pulled the chair out where I had set up my computer, and the ratan was ripped in the middle. So I switched it out for another chair and sat down.
My goal was just to stay put. I opened up my document, but didn't feel settled enough to write. I was determined, though, stay there until I fell into a writing pattern. I spent about an hour staring at the walls. I tipped back in my chair and stared at the ceiling. I hung off the side of my chair and checked out the rug underneath the table. I examined my nails and changed the music a few times.
Finally, I gave in and surfed the web. The first thing I stumbled upon was something called Digital Resistance. This was perfect! I was struggling with establishing one of my main character's political leanings, and this site would be the perfect thing to help. Still not feeling the writing groove, though, I bookmarked the page and stumbled again. The very next thing I hit on was writing-world.com! 50 Tips for writers. I nearly threw my hands up then. The internets wanted me to write more than I wanted me to write. I stumbled once more, and came upon the procrastinator's flow chart.
Okay, fine, I thought. And I wrote a bit. But it wasn't happening. Then, I thought... there's a whole house. I have a laptop. I could really be anywhere.
After three hours of sitting there, I realized I had consigned myself to the creepy dining room for no reason. A few minutes after this epiphany, I found myself in the living room watching back to back episodes of A Shot at Love with Tila Tequila. Feeling guilty, I got into bed to read a bit, and went to sleep around 2:30am.
Day 1: Thanksgiving
My full first day here started off well. I woke up shortly before 10:am, and got out of bed. That's hardly ever something I do... waking up and then getting up. I usually wake up and go back to sleep, and wake up and go back to sleep and then eventually convince myself to rise. But I woke up feeling rested.
I went to the 7-11 for some sugar, which I forgot to buy the day before. I drove to the water's edge, where I sat for a few minutes. Then I came home. I enjoyed some coffee and meusli, and then went back to the book I'm reading. I took a few sci fi books from the library last week. I really haven't read much sci fi, so I think I should. I saw the title "The Carpet Makers" in the sci fi section and thought it so perfect for me! Carpet weavers in the future. What could be more up my alley than that, right now? The book is pretty lousy, but I'm still finding it helpful to read. The author, Andreas Eschbach, introduces a new main character in each chapter, and then promptly kills them, which is annoying. The story isn't character driven at all, as you're not given time to really invest in anyone before they're offed. The plot is loose, zipping around from present to past without a pattern. Nevertheless, like I said, I'm still sort of into it, and curious to see how it wraps up. It's more fantasy than sci-fi, really. I'm coming to learn, though, that the two genres are largely intermingled.
After reading, I called my family. It sounded like there were 50 people in my Aunt's house. The dog was barking and the kids were running around and people were yelling at the dog. I spoke with Uncle Joey, then Mom, then Dad, then Aunt Carol. I would have talked to Deborah as well, but Aunt Carol hung up when we said bye, and that was that. Dad asked me, loudly, "Are you sorry you're not here?!" And I said, "Well, not really." And he responded loudly, "No?!" I was irritated that he broadcast his version of my response. Oh well.
Later, I put a chicken in the oven to roast with some vegetables, and two hours later had that with some sweet potato fries. My own little Thanksgiving dinner. Then, at the kitchen table, I wrote.
Finally, it came. I re wrote Bea, who I originally had as somewhat young and green. She met Owen, who introduced her to a life as a resistance leader. This didn't feel right, and so I changed all that. She's well established before she ever meets Owen, now. So is he. They meet as contemporaries. Equals. And fall in love. I wrote a bit of Fantanelle as well.
Today: Friday
I woke up later than I wanted to today, and went to my computer right away. I re read a lot, and what's remarkable is... I like my story! I like it a lot, and I feel good about it.
Last night, in bed, I began getting Fantanelle out of the institution. I found that her escape is a version of mine, from Desisto. She walks along a dark road and hides in bushes when she hears a car, as I did. She's startled by a large owl taking flight from a tree, as I was. And she's dampened by a fine mist that fell steadily while she walked, as I was. I'm getting stuck a little bit, because when it becomes personal, it gets harder to write. I need to break out of that a little bit and put Fantanelle back on her own track, not on mine. So that's what's in order for today. That, and chicken leftovers.
1 comment:
hi
keep up the good fight
Hongo
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