Greetings, Fearless Readers! I know it’s been awhile. I reorganized the studio (apartment) this weekend. I used to always call it that - “the studio (apartment)” but I’ve fallen into calling it “the apartment”. Boring. I like calling it the studio… as it is a studio, a single room of shame, the bastion of the barely employed…
The online dictionary gave me “atelier” as a synonym for studio. I looked that up and got this:
atelier
1.
artist's studio: a studio or workshop where an artist works
There has been way too little “atelier-ing” in this L shaped space. I haven’t completed a novel in too long – but I’ve started three. *Groan* I don’t want to be one of those. You know, those people who call themselves writers but who never finish a book. The one good thing: I know what is “wrong “ with the current one, but as I can’t seem to go in and fix it (not knowing where to start) I’ve decided to lump it and start over in the best place. At the beginning.
For some reason, that led to getting rid of some other obstacles. Namely: the clutter and mess choking the studio (apartment). And to do that, I got it in my head that it was time for a change all the way around. I moved everything! That meant going through the monster entertainment center, the one so filled to bursting with books that it creaks and pops at night. I got about three boxes worth in the closet now – and found many many delights. At some point, The Han Solo Adventures had fallen back behind the tv! And of course, there’s the novelization of all three Star Wars movies, in one handy volume, that I haven’t read in at least ten or fifteen years. I also had some Mercedes Lackey from my days in the SF&F bookclub. Other lost gems: The Firebringer Trilogy!! The Last Unicorn. Lost among the clutter. I really pared it down to just my favorites or unread books that are out and visible. There is actually ROOM left on every shelf, and if I went looking for a book, I think I could find it! Miracle of miracles!
I also put everything loosely together by author and/or genre. Stephen King takes up the huge shelf on the bottom, and I had to put the Dark Tower Series on the shelf above. All my most favorite, die-before-I-let-them-leave-my-grip books are nestled on one shelf (excluding King and Rowling – who are down below) This includes The Lord of the Rings books, Watership Down and Tales From Watership Down. Other Voices, Other Rooms and The Grass Harp by Capote. To Kill a Mockingbird. A slim poetry volume of Sylvia Plath’s – Across the Water, I think. Xenogenesis by Octavia Butler. Bleak House by Dickens. A couple books from my youth like The Littlest Witch, Bunnicula and Sad Day, Glad Day, which I've had since I was about 5 years old. There are no Austen books, as I never bought them, but I did download them for free from Gutenburg, along with everything Dickens, Woolf, Alcott, Bronte (all of them!) and Lovecraft. They are only on the shelf, metaphorically, along with many more, of course. It did get me thinking about what is on the shelf and what is not. I don’t regret the lack of physical volumes, because if I had every book I have ever loved, I would need a bigger apartment. I always had the feeling that all that ancient stuff would always be there, whenever I wanted it.
Of course, what it comes down to is this: if I want my own books up on a bookshelf someday, I need to start writing again… now….
1108 written today - for a grand total of ... 1108. Ah. Starting fresh!