I like to move it, move it…to a new home. It’s been a few weeks since I left the nest and set up camp in my very own apartment (with a balcony and French doors, thank you very much). I have tasted freedom before so now that I have a steady income you can imagine my joy that finally I could find my own place. Don’t get me started on my pet dragons. Initially they don’t like change but now they’re flying around the place like butterflies on drugs.
It does mean that writing has taken a back seat and it is not happy about that. It keeps asking me if we’re there yet and sulks like nobody’s business. I feel guilty, but contrary to popular belief, writers are human and sometimes life locks our characters in the basement and swallows the key.
Dust settles, however. And before you’ve even taken out the key, creativity is already seeping through the keyhole. What you bottle up, must always come out. So here’s to a new home and to new stories.