Plan C

Last week, I was talking about making plans. I was also being a bit vague, as I was not yet ready to make a big announcement about the plans. This week, the cat’s been out of the bag a while! We are moving to the Dallas Texas area. Planning for this was interesting, as I had a lot to do, and very little time to do it in. About a month, from ‘maybe this is happening’ to now, where I am in the throes of ‘well, that plan isn’t going to work, switch to backup plan!’

It’s exciting, and terrifying, although I am (once again) finding that once I am in it, I don’t have a lot of time to be terrified. With the plan unfolding in front of me, I’m focused on the next step, and maybe the one after that. Then, I can look further ahead… but the big strategy has already been plotted out. When I have time (hah!) I’ll write an amusing saga of this move, how it came to be, and the weird turns it took. For today?

I thought as I staggered off to bed last night, exhausted and realizing I am allergic to something in Texas, that I cannot keep up my routine with MGC. No, no, it’s not that I can’t keep writing here. It’s that I have got to stop procrastinating. I’m sitting at a friend’s table with my laptop at 6:30 Central time, pounding away at this blog. Next week? I’ll be working four ten-hour shifts, Weds to Saturday, from 2 pm to 12:30 am. Yeah. I need to be soundly sleeping at this time next week. The move is going to force me back into planning ahead.

This post isn’t about writing, much. It’s about the way the inside of the writer’s head is full of stuff (and some snot, sorry about that) and sometimes you have to plan for there to be no writing. Last weekend I was at a not-con and sometimes-writers gathering (which was also related to moving, but had been planned a year in advance) and I was getting sparks of stories dancing in my brain. Then, I drove 3000 miles in a week, plus packing and loading a moving truck, and, well, they are in there somewhere.

I’m not worried. When the plans have been executed, the muse will reappear. I need to give it some time, not force the issue, and accept that the stories will come back with a vengeance when I am least expecting them. In the meantime, I’ve got to wake up a teenager and go meet a man about unloading a truck into a storage unit. While trying not to panic about the psuedo-homelessness (we have a house, which the First Reader will be trying to sell over the next month or so, it’s just no longer a home) and focusing on the next stage of the plan: start the Day Job, and find an apartment which is not, as the Little Man says, above a meth lab. Also, learning to drive in the city again.

Plans change. Adventures happen. Adventures are far more fun when they happen in a book, or to someone else, way over there. I console myself that of this, will come story fodder.

18 comments

    1. I can haz meds. And I have no idea what I’m allergic *to* in a brand new biome. Other than the time I spent out West as a child is likely coming back to haunt me.

      1. All joking aside, my first guess would be cedar. That seems to be the #1 allergen in that part of the state. (Up here we get dust, mold on the dust, and Pollen of Various Kinds).

      2. Might not be the right time of year for cedar/juniper allergies. The worst season for that seems to be closer to December.

      3. Agreed.
        I grew up in a desert. Plants trying to fornificate my nostrils is an unpleasant experience l, which I do not appreciate.

        It gets better, though.
        It’s been two years since I’ve had to pull the car over because my eyes were watering too badly to see. In the meantime, Sudafed is your friend. I could write sonnets to its wonderfulness.

  1. From the moment we decided to move to Texas until we closed on a house and started moving in, about 40 days had passed. It took about two more months to get everything else out here and the other house sold. I had to make three trips 😛
    We really have a lot of stuff…

  2. Yippee! You’re in Texas. Austin isn’t that far from Dallas, you know… at least not after you get used to the size of the state.

  3. You made it! Whoo-hoo! And, yeah, moving is always an adventure! I’m hoping it’s an adventure we get to partake of in the coming months.

      1. This morning, took Cedar & family to breakfast at Tiny Town’s Cafe. After a while, her First Reader made a wistful remark about moving to Tiny Town instead, because he was already fitting in with the crowd, and finding them comfortable and familiar…

        Tiny Town may have heat, dust, and cows instead of mountains and sea, and be heavily dosed with blooming allergies, but it’s a good place with good people.

  4. Yeek. You have my sympathies. I’m not moving again.
    I spent six months in SC doing ‘dress your house for success’ with three kids, four cats, and a big dog underfoot. Meanwhile, dear husband was renting a studio apartment in Harrisburg and working the new job.

    Everything came together in the end as it will with you. Just hang on until it does!

  5. I’m not moving again.
    That was my plan. Unfortunately, the powers that be decided to turn Denver into San Francisco.

    We’ve deadlined getting out: The house goes on the market in July – regardless of circumstances. Still no solid post-sale plans, but we have some ideas. A storage unit will almost certainly be involved. We’re going to put “if you want this, you can have it for $X” tags on most everything in the house. Hopefully, the buyer won’t own much furniture and we can leave it all behind. I’d rather buy a new than move and store; nothing is sentimental, heirloom, or particularly expensive. Giving everything to Goodwill might be taking “not particularly expensive” to an extreme, though.

    1. We wound up finding a picker who came in and bought a bunch of stuff. Didn’t get much, but nothing was valuable that went to him. And we didn’t have to move it!

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