D&D 40th Anniversary Blog Hop

At last! I have a plan to break out of this posting rut! D20 Dark Ages is hosting a blog hop in February, in celebration of D&D's 40th birthday, and I aim to join. The challenge works much like April A to Z, except with much more specific prompts, all of which are focused on D&D or other tabletop roleplaying subjects.

After reading over the list, I suspect that some of the posts will be rehashes of things you've already seen on this blog, and others will require a bit of creative interpretation. I was a long-time lurker with D&D, and did a lot more reading and dreaming about it in my earliest days. I am also the perpetual DM,  and my stints as a player have generally been short-lived, so the answers to many of the player-oriented questions will take some tweaking.

Still, I feel like I work best with prompts, and am looking forward to a productive posting February!

The Lee of the Stone

The 1982 animated Secret of NIMH falls neatly within the Netflixian sub-genre, "Terrifying 80s movies marketed to children" along with such classics as the Last Unicorn, and the Neverending Story. In case you haven't seen the movie, or have buried the horror deep in your subconscience, the climactic scene in the Secret of NIMH is focused around Mrs. Brisby (changed from Frisby as in the book) and the rats of NIMH attempting to move her house (with her children in it) to the lee of a big stone so that it won't be destroyed by the farmer's plow in the morning. The scene takes place in the middle of a rainstorm and involves anthropomorphic baby field mice, nearly drowning in mud while entombed in their sinking cinder-block home. It's the family movie of the year!

Anyway, my recent move has me thinking about that scene a lot lately. From an objective point of view, my move has been a breeze. No rats, or drowning in mud, or destructive plows. But change is difficult for me, even if its good change, and this move is no exception. We've been in the new house a little over two weeks, and we're in a good spot, considering. The Wife and I are completely out of our old apartment. The packing boxes are being emptied and are gradually disappearing. We haven't found any horrible surprises at the new place. In short, everything is proceeding according to plan. I should be happy, right?

Nope. I'm still struggling with the transition. I feel uprooted, like one of the mouse kids dangling in a swaying cinder block high above a mud pit. Everywhere I look, I see something that needs to be done. art to hang, furniture to buy, racks to install. All this chaos has me creatively blocked for a number of reasons. Up until last weekend, our new craft room was the dumping zone for most of our boxes. While I have now cleared it out and set it up as best I can, we are still waiting on some furniture that is in storage, and on some other furniture we have yet to buy. Even when I've felt the urge to create despite my makeshift setup, I've been quickly subdued by creeping guilt for thinking about trying to draw or paint, or craft while there's still unpacking left to do. My game books are also all still in boxes while we wait to get the last of our furniture out of storage.

I want to be settled. I want to relax, safe in the lee of the stone. From outside my head, I can tell we are moving in that direction and that we'll be there soon. Unfortunately, inside my head, I'm stuck in the mud.

This post is part of the Insecure Writer's Support Group.