#Roadtrekking to the Mid-West
Which explains why my post is a little tardy. I’m on the move. Actually, I’ve finally landed after driving for two days, but there are a lot of details and ducks to get in their rows. Internet service being the first biggie. I didn’t have it for almost a week, and couldn’t blog until I got it.
Fine by me. I had a lot to do once I parked my Roadtrek van for a permanent rest. Moving into a new home is never easy, and I’m doing it on my own. My traveling pal SalGal isn’t much help, either. Sure, she’s great on the road, but do you think I could get her to lift a paw and lug the belongings? Do you suppose she’d help me clean the new place before I unpacked? Uh-uh. No can do, she says. Sal’s tired from watching me drive. The passing scenery exhausted her.
What was my response to her throwing in the towel? I shrugged, dipped a shoulder like a charging bull, and tackled my new living quarters. Cobwebs and other peoples’ dirt: Beware! I had a mission, and would get myself settled before starting the new job if it killed me. Or forced me to skip meals.
Got it done, too. The place looks as good as it can, and with my own belongings arranged around the house, it’s feeling home-y. And ready for me to come home from a hard day on the farm to write.
So, you wonder, where am I? Where did I road trek to exactly?
What fun! You say? Or, are you wearing a perplexed expression like most everyone else I’ve told about my move. Indiana? What the heck is in Indiana?
My new job, for starters. Yeah, it was nearly one thousand miles away, but that was the point. I’m road-trekking. Eventually, I’ll work my way clear across this beautiful country. I’m not independently wealthy, which means I take on horse-y jobs to pay for my journey. And I write.
Despite the blank expressions from Easterners, Indiana is going to be a cool place to conjure my next novel. The wide open space reminds me the sky is the limit. I can do everything I’ve set my heart on doing. Will it be hard? Heck, yeah. I’m working full time on a farm. At the end of a day, I’m tired.
But it’s a gorgeous farm with gorgeous horses. And lots of countryside around me on every side so I don’t freak out. Cities wig me out and wear me down without feeding my spirit. So the remoteness of the farm, and the proximity to the animals and the earth are like blood for my body—necessary.
The writing will come easy. Do I wish I already made enough to finance a switch-aroo, where I could write all day and work the earth part-time instead of it being the other way around? Sure, I do. I’m just not there yet. I’m paying my dues. Running the gauntlet.
Someday. Someday, I won’t be the starving artist. Someday I can devote my attention to my readers and the stories they want. For now though, I’m enjoying the ride. Not only am I meeting wonderful people through my writing, but I’m meeting beautiful people everywhere I’m traveling. For those cynics who think the world is going to hell?
Maybe it is. But I’m discovering that in those small towns, and even in the big ones, or in the most unlikeliest of places, I’m running into good people.
So, my road-trekking has reaped some unseen rewards. I didn’t know when I started my walkabout what path my life would take. Has it been hard at times? Of course. But not so difficult I’m cowed by the unknown that lies ahead of me.
I have all the people I’ve met, in person and virtually, to thank for my courage to press onward with my dreams. I’ll keep shoveling manure, scraping the dirt from under my fingernails, and writing till my tired eyelids flutter shut.
Because my spirit is sated and electrically alive.