It’s time for a new adventure. A post on saying goodbye for now to NYC.


(My arm says, “It’s an adventure.”)

A year and a half ago, I got on a plane, bound for England. I wanted to have an adventure. And I did. The right kind, with highs and lows and beautiful things and fear.

I got back several months later, celebrated the release of my debut novel, and when the initial wave of promotion was over, I decided it was time for another adventure, and I set off for New York.

Ten months in this place, and it has been an adventure. Often a rocky one, a scary one, but I’m a firm believer that if something doesn’t scare you, at least a little, it’s not worth doing.

This post isn’t about my time in NYC. It isn’t about the friends I made, the signings I went to, the food I ate, the holiday frolics and the buses and trains and the strange things that only seem to happen at night and the random slices of beauty. I’m sure I’ll reflect more on those another time.

This post is about leaving.

This is all that’s left on the shelves in my room right now. It says, “Remember. It will be an adventure.”

There were a couple dozen, but as I packed up my hopes and fears and wants and ideas–because those are the things I put on post-it notes–I left this one up, a reminder as much as a promise.

A reminder. A want to remember.

In THE ARCHIVED, Histories are records of people’s lives, kept in bodies instead of books. Every memory, every moment, saved in their skin.

The day I boarded that plane for England. The day I unpacked and assembled my room in Brooklyn. The day I took the room apart. All of it is written on my life. Remembered. Perhaps not as cleanly or as elegantly, but there nonetheless.

There’s a passage in THE ARCHIVED, where Wesley Ayers says to Mackenzie Bishop, “The Archive means that the past is never gone. Never lost. Knowing that, it’s freeing. It’s permission to always look forward.”

We have no guarantee of an Archive, a place where *every* moment of our lives is kept safe, guarded from time and forgetting, nothing to truly free us from the need to look back, to reflect. But the brighter memories, the bolder ones, tend to linger, and these days, whenever an adventure ends or begins, whenever something bright happens, I think of it writing itself into my History, burning in, my life exposing like film under the light.

And I’m going in search of more light. More bright moments.

It’s time for a new adventure.

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11 thoughts on “It’s time for a new adventure. A post on saying goodbye for now to NYC.

  1. Llehn says:

    Dear Victoria,

    This is such a lovely and sad post. Good luck on your next adventure. May you find what you are looking for.

  2. noraadrienne says:

    So you’ve pulled out the magic pin and stuck it into the map. Are you ready to share your next adventure’s location yet?

  3. You survived NYC!
    P.S. What’s on your e-reader?

  4. Amelia says:

    I wish you the best of luck in this new daring adventure! I’ve recently moved away from NYC too so I know how you feel! But when one door closes, another one opens, and that’s always the best part of the adventure—that moment on the verge of something new! Much love!

  5. Lisa Bergren says:

    Blessings as you move on to the Next One! Looking forward with you, in hope for grand people, places, things and experiences to come.

  6. jennifleura says:

    “But the brighter memories, the bolder ones, tend to linger, and these days, whenever an adventure ends or begins, whenever something bright happens, I think of it writing itself into my History, burning in, my life exposing like film under the light.” You always have the perfect way to describe things. I hope your next adventure is exciting and bright and full of beautiful moments! Where are you travelling to next? xx

  7. brennabraaten says:

    The best of luck to you, from another adventurer.

  8. ruthannereid says:

    I definitely want to hear about those strange things happening and other adventures. I miss NYC! *hugs*

  9. Such a bittersweet post. Beautiful and sad. Your posts make have all the feels. It could also be because I’m insane (a distinct possibility). Either way, I enjoy your posts. They are beautifully written and full of emotion.

    Thank you. It will be an adventure because we make life what it is.

  10. There are things I could say about moving and leaving and adventures, but they’re not the sort of things I’m good at saying, and you have better people for that.

    Instead, I’m going to wonder what good knowledge is if no-one knows it or thinks about it. Most books I’ve read (if they discuss it at all) would argue that not knowing the past frees you to think about the future and infinite knowledge of the past eventually turns you so far towards retrospection that you can’t see the future any more.

    But if the living don’t know the past, merely that it’s preserved _somewhere_, what good does that do them? Those who do not remember the past &c.

    Or, from another point of view, I think of Borges’ infinite library, which by holding all possible information makes it impossible to find the true, meaningful information.

    Not that ordinary human memory is necessarily better than any of the above.

    I look forward to reading your take in the full novel.

  11. This post is absolutely lovely. I’m at a point in my life that, despite not going anywhere or moving to a new place, I feel like I’m starting a new adventure – so I can definitely relate to the sentiment!

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