Notes from Maine - 2021/02/08
Not much happening in Maine this week, at least not in my neck of the woods. We’ve had a tiny bit of snow, some cold days, and some warm. I have lots of projects that I should be doing around the house, but it’s easy to find reasons not to work on them. Winter stretches on and somehow nothing gets accomplished.
This fall, after my father moved back to his house, Mom and I remodeled his room here. I don’t expect him to come back down this way, but I still refer to it as his room. It’s a cheerful blue color, has bright lights and a big couch. I’ve spent a lot of time in here recently. It’s a good place to write.
I tend to move around and change my habits when I switch books. I might write one upstairs at my grandmother’s old desk, and then move to a different spot for the next book. I’ve written a few books exclusively after dark. These days, I mostly write in the mornings because I find it difficult to focus on anything else until I’ve reached my quota of words.
When I stop writing for any length of time, my imagination tends to get out of control. If I don’t focus my creativity into a novel, I’ll make up stories about everything. That can be tiring. I would rather have a productive outlet for the weird things that pop into my head.
It’s tempting to kill time until spring comes. That’s a mistake I’ve made before. Last winter, I was filling my hours with anything, hoping to get to warmer weather, and then everything changed. I can’t let that happen again. It’s easy to see now the importance of appreciating health and freedom while we have them, in case they should disappear.
I’ve written a number of books that begin with someone moving to a new house. That’s a great catalyst for new things happening and a good way to get to know a character, in my opinion. Perhaps I enjoy moving people into a new house because it’s something I won’t get to experience again. In a few months, I will have lived in this house 20 years, and I have no intention of moving. Everything I need is here. With the exception of the kitchen, every room is just right. Some of them are a little disorganized, but that’s okay. I’ll get to them in a bit.
With so much time in this one place, I still feel like a guest here. This house has an obvious history that doesn’t belong to me. I’ll work on tearing down a wall or putting up a new door and I will be thinking about the next person who will live here instead of considering my own needs. I’m not sure why that is. Perhaps it’s because parts of the house are two-hundred years old. I’m a child compared to this structure, and it will certainly live a long life after me, I’m sure. When I’m gone, I hope that the next people who live here don’t curse me as much as I curse the previous owners. Actually, I take that back. I hope to leave them with just as many projects as I’ve had. It will give them something to do in the winter.
Today, I’m offering for free a book I wrote called The Claiming. It’s about a family who move into new house and discover odd secrets about their new neighborhood. I hope you enjoy it. Please feel free pass this free offer along to any friends who might enjoy it.
