All the miscellaneous bits and pieces

Dear Vi,

Today I sent out another query letter for Holding Space. That makes nine. Out of the nine, I’ve received two rejections and one request for a Full. That means the agent liked the query enough to want to read the full manuscript. That’s pretty exciting. Even if she decides it isn’t for her, it’s a huge boost to my writerly self esteem.

And I’ve got a short story out on submission, but I won’t hear for awhile yet.

Meanwhile, I’m working on two new manuscripts. This is a bit discombobulating –  I need to settle into one. Instead, I dither, going back and forth, unable to totally immerse myself in either.

I’ve been busy in other areas, too: I’ve got one quilt ready for binding and another one sandwiched and ready for quilting, and socks on one set of needles and a sweater on another set. Lots of busy going on in that area, as evidenced by the gawd awful mess of knitting and hand sewing paraphernalia next to my side of the couch.

And then, as if things weren’t messy enough,  I decided that most of the pieces of clothing I’ve made up to now are not acceptable. They looked good in the initial trying on, but once I started actually wearing them – out in public, like – their flaws started showing up. Three dresses have been tossed into the recycle bin. There’s enough fabric in the skirts to use as a muslin for a couple of tops I want to make. It’s all a learning process.

Sam and I have really been enjoying the autumn colours this year. Somehow, they seem even more vivid than usual.

What about you? Anything interesting to report?

Meanwhile, I knit

Sometimes writing a novel feels an awful lot like waiting. And what does any sane person do while waiting?

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I’m trying to figure out the last chapter of this novel I’m working on. I mean, I know how it ends, I just don’t know how to get there.

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Sigh. I know.

It’s the words. I’m waiting for the words.

Meanwhile, I’ve been doing a lot of knitting.

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The Heebie Jeebies

It had been a dark and stormy afternoon, so after supper Sam and I decided to get out for a walk before it got too dark.  Or at least before it started to rain again.

It was kinda spooky, to tell you the truth…

The light had an eerie copper post-storm tinge to it and there was a strange moaning sound in the distance that lasted the entire 45 minute walk. If my name was Dorothy and I lived in Kansas with my Auntie Em, I’d be running for the storm cellar. It was  really weird. So weird that we actually turned around and went home, our imaginations in overdrive.

And then…

I looked across the lake and saw a bank of fog moving in. One by one, the lights on the other side went out as the fog came closer. No wait… that was a Stephen King novel I read. Sorry. 

I’ve only ever read three Stephen King novels in my entire life, do you believe it?..That foggy one (which I can’t remember the name of, his latest one (which I also can’t remember the name of), and The Dome. 

I’ve tried to read others, but just can’t get past the first 30 pages. Actually, I’m doing good if I get that far. Sorry, Mr. King. Maybe there’s something wrong with me.

For the rest of the evening I have another scary task to look forward to… Frogging this bit of knitting.  

Actually, my iPhone autocorrected that to frigging , which is about how I feel about it. 

No, scratch that bit of political correctness. What I really mean to say is fuckety fuckfuckfuck.

It’s my own fault that I’m about to rip apart several hours of work. Why? Oh, well, you know….because I didn’t bother to knit a test swatch first.

I’ll leave you with this serene picture of Sam not giving a damn.