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Big news: I finally made the leap! After years of dreaming and months of scraping every last dime together, I’m in my own apartment. Ms. Woolf’s making me smile lately, because I still have trouble believing I have more than just a room of my own these days. There’s a whole one-bedroom apartment with my name on the lease and my own decorations inside it — I even get a little patio/balcony so I can write outside when the weather warms up. It does mean for a while my commute to the law office job is going to hurt (I’m near Baltimore now, and the office is in D.C.), but it’s worth it for the independence.

The main thing I’ve been telling Andrew about this apartment, over and over and over, is “I have a vision.” And that’s about more than the furnishings, although he’s heard ad nauseum about white couches and dark wood furniture and modern, abstract floral rugs in black and white and red. It’s about creating the kind of space I’ve daydreamed writers live in. I promise I do know being a writer is not as simple as surrounding yourself with the trappings you think the cool writers have, but trying on the shoes does wonders for the confidence. I’m looking forward to making meals in my new place and entertaining my friends, but also to growing into a newly vitalized sense of where I want this writing thing to go.

The experiment now, in the interest of disciplining myself to submit as well as write, is to send out one piece or query every weekday. It’s going to be tough to do both submitting and writing as well as keep up my schedule (I have to admit I haven’t written any more of my novel in about a week — between making last preparations for the move and doing my homework for Experimental Forms, I was too pooped after work to rouse myself to the keyboard again), but not even Ray Bradbury says writing is easy. Exhilarating, when it’s going well, but even that doesn’t mean easy. I sent out a pretty neat query today about diary-writing, and probably it’ll get shot down, but what’s important is not only that I did it, but that I put some preliminary research into it, too, so I’m not just throwing out whatever’s on the top of my head (that’s what the blog is for!). And that when that rejection email comes, I’ll get to read it in my brand-spankin’ new shiny apartment. Once I call Comcast to come bring me the Internet, that is. Moving sucks.

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