This move has been all consuming. Both E. and I are hoping that we don't have to go about it again in a year. But we may have to. I don't know if its our age or the fact that we have just joined two separate living spaces into one that has made this move so much more taxing than any of those previous. And, I have done my share of moving. Trying to balance getting unpacked and settled with work, a sweetheart, and my need to create has been difficult.
Finally, last Monday I sat down and started writing. Well, looking at where I left off before the move would be more accurate. I did print off where I was with my short story assignment (I am still enrolled in an online creative writing class.) I took the very methodical approach of freewriting the story from a variety of narrative voices and settings. Now I am cutting and pasting them all into one. While the task meets my orderly, logical, and on the road to OCD approach to things, it lacks spontaneity and the writing I have produced from this technique has been just plain STIFF.
I gave up this evening in pure frustration. I want my writing to be fun even if I struggle with it from time to time or more realistically most of the time. I need to loosen up. Not expect perfection. Take some time to unpack boxes and get all of my photos on the wall. Read and read and read. Even though afterwards, I find that I want to emulate almost every voice I read. How much writing does a person have to do before they are actually any good? I know that there isn't any formula. It's all about a knack for writing in a way that makes sense to people and to yourself in a given time. And ego and drive to continue no matter what.