Reveling in the Moment

Binding is halfway done, waiting for several nights of hand-stitching to call it completed.

Binding is halfway done, waiting for several nights of hand-stitching to call it completed.

So, while I’ve decided to write the rest of The Hawk at my usual wordy pace, managing to find time to get those words onto the document has proved somewhat difficult.  For the last few days, it’s been a third of a chapter here, another half there.  Again today I typed out maybe half, more like a third, and then….

Then life moved another direction.  I heard from my youngest daughter, chatted with The Burrito, ran to the store, ate lunch, and now it’s nearly two thirty PDT, and truthfully my brain has shut itself off for useful prose to be extracted.  Getting older has shown me my limits when it comes to writing; mornings are best, afternoons are iffy.  And writing at night?

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!  Evenings are spent with fabrics and sport, which brings me to the B story of today’s post.  A few nights back I finished attaching the binding to the front of the Big Bright Quilt.  That was a chore and a half, but now it’s a matter of hand-sewing the binding to the back of said quilt, washing that baby, then….

But while I bombard this post with shots of a quilt and its binding, I want to return to The Hawk.  Oh good grief, really?  Well yes, but only to say that today, after getting down about a thousand words then pausing, I didn’t feel badly about the output.  If ever a novel was a it is what it is project, this one is it.  And maybe I need to rethink my goals with this story.  Finishing it, yup, that’s the ultimate aim.  But I will never write the first draft for it again (thank you Jesus).  It’s just like sewing the Big Bright Quilt, or truthfully any other project.  You do it once, then move on.

Okay, writing is a little different than quilting in that respect, because you don’t edit a blanket.  Oh you might patch it up some, years down the road, but once I attach the rest of the binding, then throw it in my washer and dryer, I probably won’t sew on it ever again.  I’ll use it certainly, reliving the process as I admire blocks and stitches.  Actually, maybe The Hawk and the Big Bright Quilt are more alike than I’m thinking.  But on this day, which is all I have at the moment, I’m happy to let Chapter 227 simmer until tomorrow.  Because one of these days, I won’t be writing this book anymore.

As I age, I try to stay in the moment; tomorrow will be here soon enough, and if I’m too preoccupied with the future, I am so missing the present.  Most of my previous first drafts were written in a NANO-month here, another NANO-month there.  But physically, mentally, and life-wise I just don’t write that way now.  Accepting that change might be one of the biggest lessons I take from this book, or what I’m learning from it today.  While I am an author, I’m also a wife.  A daughter.  A sister.  A grandmother.  A quilter.  A…. Blogger, lol.  But it’s the afternoon, and best to churn out an entry now, having used many of the upper echelon brain cells to forward the fiction.

I wonder if one hundred years ago, or even fifty years ago, were people more focused in the here and now.  I want to make the concerted effort not to get ahead of myself, be it in writing or sewing or housework, ha ha.  Last night I sat under the Dadland Quilt while football and baseball garnered most of my attention.  But occasionally I’d peer down, fascinated by the diagonal machine quilting and fabric placement of one of my first improv comforters.  That quilt tells its own story, and now a year and a half later, the tales continue as the Chicago Cubs stand within one win from going to the World Series.  Regardless of how the Cubs do, I’ll think back to the even-numbered year that my SF Giants did not play in the Series (ahem….) and how I watched the playoffs under a quilt made after my dad died.  This is why it’s important to let life, books, and blankets proceed at their own pace.  Their true meanings develop day by precious day, no way for us to plot out all of their impending values.

Leaves from the apricot tree are calling my name....

Leaves from the apricot tree are calling my name….

What happens tomorrow in my novel isn’t for me to ponder now, or not in depth.  Ideas are socked away, otherwise I might forget them, ha ha.  But once notes have been made, time to move onto the next task.  Like leaves, for instance, that need to be raked.  Yes, I’m on that as soon as this is uploaded.


4 thoughts on “Reveling in the Moment

  1. laura bruno lilly

    In the spirit of ‘newtrailsbeforeuspeace’, I nominated you for the Liebster Award. There’s no pressure to participate, but I used this as a way to ease back into life wo Dadland here in SC.
    It’s no ‘The Hawk’, but it served a purpose in this beginning part of my trail….perhaps you might enjoy it for your own purpose.
    Please consider it.


    1. Anna Scott Graham Post author

      Oh ta love! And congrats to you for receiving it. 😉

      The horizon which awaits you is one of wonder, memories, and the strange sensation of being moved up in the generational chain. Take life slowly, allowing these new notions to settle gently.


  2. laura bruno lilly

    “…and how I watched the playoffs under a quilt made after my dad died. This is why it’s important to let life, books, and blankets proceed at their own pace. Their true meanings develop day by precious day, no way for us to plot out all of their impending values.”

    Soooo true. How special to have your dadland quilt to cuddle under and feel surrounded by his embrace…
    The quilts you’ve showcased in this and the previous post are so alive…much eyecandy for me to behold and kudos to you for finishing so much lately (prose and quilt-wise!)



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