Consolidation

As the final details on my condo purchase come into focus, I’ve begun the truly entertaining process of imagining my stuff in my new home. When my realtor, Jenny and I were in the new condo last week for the inspection phase, we “designed” the living room and dining room and den with “placing” the existing furniture in those spots. It became clear that there wasn’t space in the den for the fold out couch if I had the desk, which was the major impetus of moving to a larger place. A room of her own, as it were. So up on the small list of things to acquire came a really comfy reading chair and, for the breakfast nook, a glass topped table and chairs.

But mostly, the process of moving and indeed, this phase of my life overall, seems to be about consolidation. Clarifying what it is that I have, and what I want and what I will achieve during the next phase of my life. Perhaps it was this realization that recharged my efforts in the process of publishing my book. Last summer, I engaged a company to help me self publish the book. After an enthusiastic pitch by the representative of the company resulting in my purchase of the package, I was assigned an Author Care Manager who herself was rather less than engaged in the process. Actually, I am not even sure if she is a she because we never even had the phone conversation about the book in person. Everything was conducted in very perfunctory email exchanges. Finally, after an extremely unsatisfactory non-relationship, in the spirit of consolidating, I wrote an email to the original sales person, and requested my money back. This jumpstarted the process and within a day, I had the editorial assessment that I’d been waiting for since submitting my materials last November. With that assessment came an interaction with another charming sales person, who pitched the line edit package. I said I needed to sleep on it and then happened to be on the phone with someone else when he called me back the next day to check in. It feels as though if there are any benefits to AI, I should be able to take the whole book and ask ChatGPT to edit it according to The Chicago Manual of Style with spellings and word formations taken from Merriam-Webster and save myself a chunk of change and considerable time. Because honestly, isn’t that probably what is happening in a self-publishing entity these days? Lately, I’ve been binging a delightful series on Netflix about publishing, Younger, starring Sutton Foster and Hilary Duff, which may also be why I renewed the progress on my own book.

The period of time while one is selling one’s home before moving is such an interesting psychological and physiological plateau. My apartment is in its most pristine, depersonalized, and decluttered condition. It isn’t a time to cook or entertain, even though it looks spectacular. I have this image of me sitting in my living room, ankles crossed, demurely reading my Louise Penny book on my lap, sipping my tea, ready to bolt at a moment’s notice. It is a phase of readiness and preparation that I thought would be off putting, but actually find feels good. I’m on the diving board ready to plunge into a new pool.

I went to the theatre last night with my friend, Mary Joan. What we saw was less important than the fellowship we shared as we sought out dinner on the unrecognizable stretch of Melrose Avenue. I had made a reservation at a restaurant on a new (to me) app called Resy. I pictured a cozy sit down before going to the theatre. For someone who has been away from Melrose Avenue for roughly two decades, the current scene there is distressingly different. What used to feel like a bohemian west coast version New York’s Columbus Avenue felt like back in the 80s, this new Melrose Avenue is bleaker, with many shuttered storefronts, and nail salons replacing ice cream stores. When I arrived, there was a contractor and presumably the owner of the restaurant, talking about the new entryway, which I could see tantalizingly evident at the bottom of some roll up doors. The restaurant was clearly not available, in spite of my Resy for 6:30PM. Mary Joan arrived and we discarded the idea of spending the next hour and a half at the Starbucks across the street, then strolled down the street. When we finally alit at the order window of Marathon Burger, a pallid redo of Johnny Rockets, we found a table between two outdoor propane heaters and dissected life while we waited for our Vegan Burger combos, as two old friends are wont to do.

I have been crystal clear on direction in my life in the last six months. I attribute this less to the fact that I recently passed the six-year anniversary of my husband’s death, and more to the brush with cancer and it’s solidifying effect on activating my goals and dreams. I am, knock wood, cancer free, and raring to go. I’m moving closer to friends and family, and if our birthday dinner the other night at The Castaway is any indication, we are going to have some major fun in the future.

Because I can’t make any tangible progress toward packing for my move until the week of the move itself, I have also been consolidating paperwork, and doing a bit of Swedish death cleaning. It’s been a powerful exercise in what I need vs. what I have. And no, it’s not overly morbid. It’s practical. It’s what I spent the last two decades doing in my professional life – examining and culling what is needed for the next project – utilizing the resources we had to make the most creative and impactful productions we could.

If I were a more powerful individual, I would be doing a lot of consolidating in the political sphere with some enthusiastic kicking to the curb involved. This has been a painful two weeks as we have watched a MAGA fascist regime dismantle features of our democracy that we’ve long taken for granted. The lies and disinformation have been formidable and terrifying. I’ve been following not through the traditional news sources, but through powerfully vocal and clarifying substack writers, Meidas Touch and Simon Rosenberg’s Hopium Chronicles. I await instructions for next moves that we as individuals can make in this Craven New World. And I’ve reduced the amount of time I spend consuming mainstream media because it is a hellish pit of despair right now and I’m consolidating my energies to move forward with joy and promise.

My current plan – when life gives you lemons, make lemonade. And write as often as you can to your representatives. Make your views known.