Each day my momentum picks up speed: I am packing, sorting, selling, donating, and organizing my life for one-year on the road. The first 4 ½ months will be at Interlochen. After that, who knows. I will not be the writer who is also a nanny or the writer who is also a barista or the writer who is also the waitress. I will be the writer who is always the writer.
To that end, I intend to pack everything I think I’ll need for the next year of my life into my Volvo station wagon. What doesn’t fit, doesn’t come. My parents have generously agreed to store what they can. This includes the essentials such as books, my grandmother’s chairs and china, and what I hope will only be a few boxes of memorabilia and artwork.
During the month of October, I sold 2 couches, 3 chairs, 1 table, 2 bags, 5 articles of high-end outdoor clothing, and a few other things amounting to $300 in sales (or roughly the cost of gas for my first big move). During that time I also took a small truckload of things to the dump and donated two grocery carts full of belongings to the local thrift store.
But perhaps most exciting of this all has been the act of taping boxes shut. Viewed here from left to right, the boxes are as follows:
[One small victory: The first round of boxes has been taped up!]
Top row of small boxes: Published clips in chronological order from 2000-2009.
Bottom row of larger boxes: One—5 years of lessons plans, Montessori Certification albums, and teaching journals. Two—3 years of arts writing folders on artists, sample magazines, and a few freelance files. Three—2 years of graduate school (craft handouts excluded).
Although I didn’t anticipate it, the satisfaction in taping these boxes shut has had me flying high the past few days. Box by box, I’m building my foundation for the next stage in my writing life.
Note to readers: My road is impassable for much of winter, therefore selling the furniture now has been essential. I’ve enjoyed the experience of eating cross-legged on the kitchen counter all week. Really. It keeps it interesting.