I have become obsessed with Airstream Trailers. Not the new fancy ones. No, it’s the vintage shiny silver bullets that I adore. I’m thinking if I could find one and restore it I could paint it metallic pink or blue. Maybe periwinkle. It could sit in a field of flowers and be my writer’s retreat. I could pull it around the country on book tours.
None of this is practical, of course. And truthfully it’s kind of disturbing the number of hours I’ve spent looking at Airstream trailers, and other travel trailers too for that matter, when I should have been writing or promoting. I’ve been scanning Craig’s List and the Airstream Classifieds for – what? It’s no secret that I can’t afford to buy anything like a trailer at the moment. So what’s all this distraction really about? Did I tell you that last week I spent all my time looking at tiny houses? Some on trailers, some not.
Perhaps the oddest thing about this obessession is that I don’t particularly like little spaces. I’ve always drempt of big houses with open areas. Nothing for me to bump into. No clostriphobic spaces. And yet here I am infatuated with these tiny dwellings. Where would I put my sewing? my clothes? my computer? My dogs, for heaven’s sake. What the heck am I going to do in a space so tiny I can hardly turn around?
The benifit, of course, is that there wouldn’t be room for anyone but me. No distractions. Nothing to interfer with my writing schedule. Except my own mind, of course – but that’s another story. I’m at that place I get to several times a year when I’m not making the kind of progress on my work that I want to. Kids and work and sports and theater all get in the way. Not that I don’t love the kids and all their activities, but sometimes I’d like to be able to just be alone in my head for a while so I could sort out the stories. Get some pixels into the WIP.
And so I find myself searching get aways, and travel trailers and tiny houses and rockets into space. Because I need to get some. If I don’t get some space soon I may do something drastic, and because I can’t afford to shoot myself into space for a vacation it’s likely to be a full on temper tantrum. Or maybe I’ll just buy myself a 1967 Airstream and paint it electric blue.