In A Bookish, Quilty Mood

The windsurfer and an admirer; February 2023. Still working on the novel; the beach has become a location within the story, definitely based on my recent visits to Mauren Beach in Humboldt County. A couple of entries ago I posted a shot of my bestie at the Pacific, today's shot another from this month, when a windsurfer held our attention for over half an hour. Within my novel, the beach is acting as an agent of change. I hadn't planned it that way, and after a testy chapter on Friday, I was back in the groove today, going in another unexpected direction. I'm not going to overthink it, just keep writing. Years ago after completing a draft, I wandered around the shore at The Hook in Capitola. Driving over Highway 17 wasn't too daunting, more important was admiring the waves, listening to the ocean's roar, taking in the immense power of the water. In those days I rarely took off a day from the story, wholly involved with the act of writing. We live closer to the ocean

A coaster in progress. The writing continues in a prosy vein; I'm getting a chapter a day under my belt, which is MARVELOUS! And yet.... Lol. How can one grouse or even second-guess an average of three thousand words each morning? It's certainly not the word count that brings me to this post. It's my own impatience to know how this novel is going to end. Present Me is chomping at the bit, aching for some hint. Future Me chortles, then breaks into furious laughter. CHILL OUT, she says, while Past Me wishes to flick Present Me upside the head. How long, she growls, have you wanted to write so unencumbered, and here you are doing so and still you're griping? Okay, yeah. I'm a little whingy. But just a little and only because I am attached to these people and want to know WHAT HAPPENS TO THEM! I have some ideas of course, but my initial notions about this story have evaporated, which occurs sometimes during the writing. And that's fine, I don't begrudge these ch

My bestie snapping pics of the sunset. Previously I was a socks on first then shoes kind of person. Lately I've been a one sock and one shoe on then the other sock and shoe type of gal. I don't exactly know what that means long term, but it seemed full of meaning when I was considering how to start this post. If I had my way, I'd be in the thick of hand sewing an Alexandria quilt. Instead I'm full of machine-piecy notions. I didn't plan 2023 to meander along this road, but other things have occurred that weren't on my list of To Do's, definitely a let go and let God kind of year. And if that isn't your scene, how about the title of today's installment; navigating the gusts of change. Either way, I'm feeling blown off my preferred choice of course, but better to make hay or quilts or write books while the sun shines or the machine sews or the prose emerges than not. My BFF spent the weekend with us, perhaps that's why I'm in this introspec

It's smaller now, all those quarter-inch edges sewn together. This afternoon I.... Well, I didn't finish a quilt top but I completed a goal of attaching all the squares in each row, with many of the rows attached as well. This particular quilt, or the first couple of rows, was laid out on the design wall last fall. Then other items began muscling their way onto the wall and.... Something had to give. Initially I was going to take down the upper rows, but once I'd removed all on the bottom, I didn't have the heart to peel from the batting those squares which had laid claim for weeks, well, months. Slapping up the rest of the pre-cut prints, I made it my aim this week to get them attached in some manner so if nothing else, I wouldn't have to pull up the above photo and redo it again when squares fell from the batting. My mornings have been pleasantly usurped by writing; I am having SO MUCH FUN with this new story, oh my goodness. My cup spillith over with words, with

Recent creation as well as how I'm feeling about my latest WIP. There's an authorial euphoria in the air; while I didn't write today, I've amassed over 10K for the word count since Thursday when I started writing my latest novel. Not much thought goes into the daily prose, merely typing what flows from my brain onto the virtual document. Speaking solely for myself, there is no better manner in which to let the sentences, paragraphs, scenes develop than by simply permitting those elements of a chapter to emerge. It's magical, liberating and so creatively satisfying. I took off today, merely reading over what I've produced; it's not bad, always nice to note. Writing so uninhibitedly, I wonder if it's all crap. It's not, cool! It's a draft certainly, but with many of them under my belt, I'd like to think I kinda know what I'm doing, lol. Always room for revisions, but when half-pantsing a story, that it vaguely makes sense is reassuring. The

Two blocks made from Art Gallery fabrics and some beautiful leafy linen. Despite a still niggly pinched nerve, satisfying work has been accomplished. Today is the second in a row of decent writing, a new book finally emerging after a few weeks of hand-wringing amid personal upheaval. Yesterday I sat at the same machine where I am right now, slowly but steadily churning out a twenty-four hundred word chapter. I cannot put into prose how awesome that felt, then amazingly I did the same again this morning! Three K was added, and I feel it safe to say another novel is underway. More about that in a few; meanwhile I am definitely up to my armpits in blocks for a sixteen-patch quilt, another project desperately needed both for practical and soul-bandwidth purposes. I'm sewing together 4.5" fat quarter-length strips, then chopping those into 4.5" wide strips, swapping two, then nesting seams. Fairly mindless but so full of pleasure that my heart feels revived. The last few month

Fabrics in front have returned to my stash. The rest remain in the tote for now. I've been breaking down a story as well as sorting through a tote with fabrics meant for the Alexandria quilt. To certain prints I had pinned pencil-written notes about where to use colour combinations, but yesterday I felt it was time to put away many of those fabrics, saving some for a future project. Of the twelve hexagon blocks I had prepped, three remain to be stitched together, and if I add a half-dozen yellow blocks, plus a couple more, I can make a quilt reminiscent of what I made last summer for my brother-in-law. No idea when or for whom such a comforter will be needed, but it's nice to have stashed away the basics of something pleasing. As for the tunes.... In the old days I used to base a novel upon a playlist, each song representing a chapter. When I wrote The Hawk , that rule never materialized, the story so out of the blue I merely began writing and.... Five years later I was done, a

Alterations afoot. Think of it as HEAVY DUTY EDITS. Or maybe what someone experiences when the rug is pulled out from under them. Or Risks Take Rake Omg.... Whatever it is, it's not in-the-moment fun. But ultimately it hurts less than beating one's head against a wall. Or maybe it doesn't; I can't assume or presume anything right now. All I can do is accept that hand-stitching an Alexandria quilt isn't for me. Realizing that late last night, then fully grasping the concept (and my seam ripper) today mid morning has been a huge decision; this EPP project had barged in like an overbearing character, muscling their rather expansive quilty self onto an already crowded fabric docket. I acquiesced because 1) I always wanted to make this pattern and 2) Why not? When writing, I don't shy away from those pushy, unexpected characters who always seem just what my story requires. I'm thinking Ronan from That Which Can Be Remembered or Seth in The Hawk , folks necessary