I’m in the midst of packing (I have lost track of how much packing I’ve done this year, between actually moving house to D.C. and the frequent flights to home, Vegas, LA, and Ghana) but have time to fire off some quick notes.
First off, packing is a wonderful way to clean house. You really make a decision about an item’s true value if admitting its value means carrying it with you and/or finding a corner of suitcase to stuff it in.
I’ve managed to clean through my story notes, if only to the extent of consolidating single-sentence scraps on larger pieces of paper. There is only so much value in 180 scraps of looseleaf (180? Yes, I’m guessing about 3 sheets per story, either a story in progress or one in the planning stages, which involves drafting outlines. Many stories have fewer than 3 pages dedicated to them but novels have as many as 10).
The one thing I have difficultly with: books. Valuable? Yes. I want to carry them with me? Oh yes. Do I have room for them?
…
…I’d better.
Although, as I sorted through books and then sorted through notes, I came to the queasy realization that I have more unfinished, not-yet-published novels in this room than published, bound, and printed books.
I really should finish some. I’m within hailing distance of finishing A Dark and Wonderful History–3 stories left in the collection to write–and edits of One Hundred Days are going well. The Starter Guide is also making steady progress, which I know I’ve been saying for a while but is no less true. It being my first time with nonfiction, I’m encountering some choices I’ve never had to make before, like how to format my citations. At least I’ve got all my notes on that project turned into marginal comments in Microsoft Word, making it easily the most portable of my books.
Anyway, the happy news:
The kit knives the TSA wouldn’t let me bring through the Vegas airport (okay, fair enough I suppose) have finally been mailed back to me! Just in time, because if they’d reached the dorms after August 10th they’d have been returned to sender, and I may never have seen my nail file or my Swiss Army Knife again. And how sad would that be?
Okay, I admit, the entire point of this ramble is to show off my slasher smile. And to reassure everyone that my beloved Swiss army knife (a gift from my philosophy professor, who wanted me to get something useful out of my degree) and I are reunited. The populace is safe, I promise. Unless they have a stray thread on their collars–I might be tempted to trim that for them.