I don’t know exactly how to begin this, so best to just dive right into it, and let the rest get sorted in the ensuing days. I’ve found quilting to be an amazing and deeply touching pastime. I’ve been vacillating about posting this here, because this is a writing site, or it was, until I retired. But I wasn’t done writing, only finished with publishing. Well, I thought I was done writing.
Boy, wasn’t that a silly thing to think!
Anyway, I wrote short stories for most of 2013. And most of them were published in various Top Writers Block releases. Then, just as I put the final touches on the last tale, I dreamed about, well, about a rather fantastical, magical-realism plot that simply wouldn’t drop its claws from around my throat. So in October, I started The Hawk. Thought it would be another short story, but, um, no. Right now it’s at 240K, with the end, while within my mental grasp, about as far away as I am from Britain. That’s eleven hours by plane, several thousands miles on the ground and across the water, but still doesn’t begin to scratch the main reason I’ve pulled back from that story.
It has nothing to do with the length of the saga; it has to do with a new-found love for quilting.
But more about that in another day or three, or five. Right now all I can say is that at a month shy of forty-eight, I’m quilt-crazy. The quilt wall is nothing more than a scant two yards of cotton batting hung behind where I’m sitting right now, writing this post. For the moment, that’s the next project, although I’m waiting on a sewing machine to arrive before I actually sew those blocks together. But the urge to sew is stirring in my veins, so I may pick up some scraps and hand-sew them to satisfy that itch. I can’t explain it except to say it was as if I woke on 1 February like a new woman. (I took my eldest daughter to a fabric store that day for her Christmas present, but I left the shop with more fabric than was necessary, or so I assumed…) I have bought an iron and ironing board, which to my immediate family is like a harbinger of the end times, so something has indeed altered in my world.
And oddly enough, it doesn’t have to do with plots, characters, or words. But it does share parallels to writing; you’d be amazed at how pressing seams is like revising! I’ll be exploring that bizarre but factual notion, alongside others fabric-related, as this blog is resurrected from the stillness.
More quilts than sense is my new mantra! Well, and plots too…