|Herman Melville's writing view|
I’m contemplating moving very soon to the Texas hill country. It’s been a long-held dream, and I’m excited about it but also a bit apprehensive. While moving is a big adventure, it also means change, and that’s something I’m not fond of, or I should say the part of me that craves the routine, the ordinary and everyday isn’t fond of confronting something new. On the one hand moving is all about what you leave behind, close friends, critique partners, good and kind neighbors, in my case, but on the other hand, moving means going forward into the unknown and I love the idea of that even as I resist it.
I’ve moved around a lot, more in my early life than recently, but enough to know it’s cathartic. It’s mind shaking and life altering. It’s an experience through which you can grow. I’ve done it enough to know it can be very good for your soul. Maybe because you get rid of a lot of stuff, or I do, when I move. I weigh the things I put into the boxes, their worthiness to be carefully wrapped and transported. And after days of packing, more winds up in the giveaway pile. I’m exhausted by then, but I feel lighter than air. See, cathartic, like I said!
Anyway, recently, I received the monthly newsletter from the Irene Goodman Literary Agency where
|My writing view in the morning|
But back to the photo of Melville’s view, according to what Irene wrote about it, Melville looked out at the hills and saw his whale. “…but to Melville the configuration of the hills from his study window looked exactly like a whale hunching its back after being struck--a sure sign to a whaler that success was near,” Irene wrote in her remarks about the picture. She goes on the say, “Wherever you choose to write, it has an effect on you. Melville had an environment that greatly enhanced his spirit and his work. Whether you work at a beautiful desk with a glorious view or a windowless basement alcove, you can adjust it to suit your needs.”
She’s right, because you could, in a