New Desk Who This?

While moving to a new flat, I also decided to finally exchange my old and far too small computer desk for a new one - a real desk, if one with a computer function. I’ve been annoyed about how small my own desk was for a long time, because I spend most of my day at it - writing, editing, surfing the net. Yet, I had a rather small affair which was crowded with my screen and my printer. I hardly had space to put something else down, was always at risk of spilling my glass of water … in short: it was way past time to exchange it for something a little more professional. The move was a good reason to finally do so, especially as my new flat is a bit bigger and I do have more space for a desk now.

My move isn’t completely over as I write this - but hopefully will be by the time this is published. Currently, I don’t even have internet, because my landline/internet connection won’t be up until about a week after the actual move. After the move, I will have to concentrate on editing first and foremost - the first John Stanton collection is supposed to be out at the end of May (I’m writing this on the 28th of April).

This month was anything but easy - my mother died, I had to quickly arrange this move, so my father can take over my old flat soon (the one I moved into is in the same house, but two floors up, and I want my dad to have his space on the ground floor, since he’s not getting any younger). I didn’t write much more than a few blog posts - this one included. But things will surely get better, once I’ve really moved in and my dad has as well.

The desk is only part of what is new, though. Of course, being two more floors up now, I have a different view than before. I have some more space, since the new flat is a little bigger than the old one was. And while I was preparing to move, I have thrown away a lot of my old stuff. I lived in my old flat for fourteen years, a lot of stuff accumulated over time. And I became very comfortable in it, too. Just as I became comfortable in my own life after moving out of home. A life which is changing now. But change is good. Perhaps, I had become too comfortable.

I’ve not been writing much in March, either, before all of this started. I think I was starting to feel caught in my project, in the series I’ve started already. I think I needed a new view. In May, I’ll be editing, apart from the ramifications of the move and the possible things happening downstairs before my dad can move in. It’s also a month for me to regroup. I usually want to write something after I’ve spent a month editing, because editing is what I have to do, not what I enjoy about writing. It’s part of the process, but every job has parts which you don’t like. With me and writing, it’s editing, proofreading, the whole shebang about turning the first draft, which I find fun to write, into something you can have other people look at.

In that aspect, editing has a lot in common with moving, as I’ve realized this month. It’s hard work, it’s no fun, but the end result is worth it. I’m not quite at the end of my move, but my new flat already feels like home. Most of the chaos has been curbed. Even if I’m without a couch for the next couple of weeks, because my old one didn’t make the move (it simply wasn’t in any shape for a couch any longer - 14 year on a cheap design will do that), I’m getting comfortable again. I can move through my bedroom without light already after two nights (even though I’m now under the roof with slanted walls). My muscle memory of this place is building (I’m not as good with it as Jane is, but I’m not a highly trained agent or criminal, after all). Moving is all about getting comfortable in your new place. Editing is all about turning the first draft into what you envisioned your story to be. Both is not easy, both is no fun, but in the end, you’ll have something you enjoy and, hopefully, others will enjoy as well.

The new desk is a symbol of the move for me, to get back to that topic. It was the first piece of furniture up here, because it came two days before moving day, while nothing except for a few boxes was already up here. It was also the second piece of furniture I chose without my mother (the first was the couch - my dad and I fell in love with the same one, so we’re getting two of them, one for each flat). I looked at it and I knew this was what I needed and wanted - it has space for my big desktop computer, it has space for my monitor, keyboard, mouse, and printer, but it still leaves me with enough space for a notepad, a reference book, my water glass, a few sweets (I’m reading out loud during editing, so during those months, I need a lot of peppermint candy), my kindle, and other things I might need (like DVDs at the moment, while I have no internet to stream my TV stations).

The desk also was the first thing I made myself at home at after the move, taking care of the computer, linking everything and getting everything to work. I’m feeling fine at it. I can cook now, my fridge was delivered today. I can sleep well in my new bed, I can sit at my table which looks much more inviting under one of the slanted windows in my big living room/study/dining room, I can shower again on Monday, after the repairs in my bathroom have been finished (but I can clean myself up old-school, so that works).

I also found something old, however. The first fountain pen I ever wrote stories with, before I started doing them on the computer, before I started writing ‘for real.’ A present from my dad, a very old one, but high quality. I got it while I still was in school, well over twenty years ago. I forgot about it when I moved into my flat fourteen years ago. I found it today, I filled it with ink, and it worked as if no time had passed. So now it replaces my disposable pens for my bullet journal. Not everything is wrong or should be thrown away, because it is old. The real art, I guess, is fusing the old with the new.

I have a new desk, a new flat, but an old fountain pen. My life is changing, but a lot of things will stay the same. Sometimes, though, new perspectives help with finding new ideas for writing.