You know that feeling you get when you climb into a friend’s car or truck and it sits higher or lower to the ground than your own vehicle? You’re a bit disoriented at first. Or when you’re suddenly in the passenger seat instead of the driver’s. It takes a bit to settle in. That’s the way I’ve been feeling in my new office.

I’m still unpacking, organizing and arranging but have managed to get a bit of work done in the process. It’s weird though. Sounds from other parts of the house filter in differently than before. I look out the window and see a street instead of trees. There’s a whole new vibe to my workspace.

The same goes for my reading space. I’ve yet to find that perfect spot to curl up with a book. I’m not reading because I can’t find that comfort zone. The adjustment period is taking longer than expected.

Today I begin working on my novel again. One of my CPs sent notes and I’m ready to jump in. I’m also afraid. Afraid that I won’t be able to relate to the story anymore. Afraid the characters will be strangers. It’s silly to think this way just because my desk sits in a new room, in a new house, in a new neighborhood. But it’s there. A niggling fear.

I don’t know how writers who move around do it, never settling into one location to work. It’s disconcerting. What kind of writer are you? Do you have a desk and work area or do you use your laptop and move around?

The only thing to do is move forward. Immerse myself into the world I created and reacquaint myself with the characters. Wish me luck.