Anna Scott Graham's Blog, page 30

Book 4, Chapter 2

Amid machine quilting the blanket above (and stitching yet another Ice Cream Soda block), I 'started' my next novel. I put quotes around started because I actually wrote the first chapter in May of last year, then immediately filed it away, moving on with the next literary shiny. Talk about a purpose for scattered fictional prompts!

That single chapter, and the five characters within it, became an inadvertent link to a manuscript I wrote at the beginning of this year after a beloved died. I'm all over inadvertentness, because what is attached to inadvertent is really not that off the cuff or out of the blue but fated from far beyond anything I can imagine, and I have a pretty attuned imagination, might I say. It's kind of like making lemonade with a inordinate amount of citrus, although I'd give up the rest of my writing life to bring back someone so dearly loved. However, all of that is out of my hands, so instead I'll start another book and see where that takes me.

In the meantime, there's the quilt pictured, a sixteen-patch with two random-ish rows of squares at the top and bottom. I adore the fabrics and the backing, whoa! It's a flannel-minky extravaganza that will be oh-so-cuddly as our days grow less warm and bright. It's a lot like the first chapter of Book 4; blocks made, then set aside, then pulled out and sewn together, bordered by some extra prints and suddenly it's the new shiny of my quilty life! Well, those Ice Cream Soda blocks are vying for first place in the how can I distract myself from the Cornflower quilt blocks so I don't finish them too quickly race. Oh my goodness I feel torn in about eight different sewing directions, while the current quilt on the design wall harrumphs, "What about me???"

Yes, yes, I hear you blue, purple, and pops of yellow quilt! But this afternoon my hubby and I sorted firewood and I had dishes to do and this post to write and.... And inadvertently I will complete that quilt one of these days, or weeks, lol. Maybe this week I'll finish the top. One step at a time, like one novel at a time, one quilt idea at time, one unwitting moment followed by another slotting themselves together perfectly into our universe.

Projects to which I must refuse

The smaller version of the Ice Cream Soda block; while I adore this block, an entire quilt of them isn't in the cards.

 A few weeks ago I considered taking on yet another English paper pieced quilt. I bought some papers, just to make a few blocks, which I did, and while I enjoyed stitching those blocks, when adding the attaching diamonds, I realized fashioning an entire quilt in that manner wouldn't actually be something for which I'd be thrilled. I then made the same block in small shapes (see above), mostly because I already had the smallest pieces basted, inadvertently tucked away for this precise moment in time. Past Me nods, with a sly smirk attached, while Future Me shrugs, not willing to give anything away. But in my heart, I've accepted that this particular pattern, while still tugging on my soul, isn't for me.

Book ideas are similar, characters and plots that call to me like sirens, aching to be realized in manuscript form, not merely languishing in my head. And yet.... Instead I'm writing something that hit me with a sledgehammer earlier this year. Will those other stories ever emerge, I can't say. Well probably not, but I'm not going to carve that in stone. Yet most likely those tales will live in my memories, some sketched out in longhand or in brief notes on my phone. Yes, I make book notes on my mobile because sometimes I don't have pen and paper but I usually possess my phone.

Half of Alexandra, the other side much the same.

It's tough saying No Thanks to a design or idea, in that when something catches my fancy I feel obliged to give it all due consideration, assuming it's a go until it's really not. I still have no plan for my Alexandra EPP (shown above). Right now it's a large circle, taking up space on the banister (not to mention all the basted pieces, many stitched together, that dwell in a tote downstairs). It could be hand-appliqued to a large piece of fabric, made into a wall hanging or enlarged with borders, becoming a lap quilt. Then there's a 40K story that I haven't written off completing, begun shortly after we moved to Humboldt County, based upon said county, lol. Maybe when I finish the current WIP, unless upon completion of that saga another plot muscles its way into the fray, bumping off older ideas like an assassin. Somewhat brutal, I accept, but that is often how projects usurp one another in my crafty life. One helluva plot or pattern stage a coup, and the hapless remnants slink away, hiding in totes or flash drives for an opening.

It's just how life goes sometimes, great ideas unable to come to fruition. I don't (overtly) berate myself for moving on because life is short and positive creative output sometimes looks a little devious from the outside. Maybe orphaned books aren't salvageable, but experimental EPP blocks will eventually be put to some use. And those stories gathering virtual dust in my Novels Not Currently Under Construction folder upon my computer had some worth, even last year's NANAWRIMO bust, which I lamented in a previous post. All writing and sewing matters, if only for the practice of the craft. Yet not only for practice, but purpose, in that I did write this or that, just as I sewed this or that. Nothing may come of any of it, other than self-satisfaction of time spent doing something I love.

That's why I write, sew, etc. I am actively engaged in something so meaningful to me. Quite a blessing indeed.

Caught in a lull

Photo courtesy of my better half, snapped this morning on his walk.

After guests leave, I always want to jump right back into my routine. I LOVE my routine; mornings spent writing, afternoons dabbling with fabrics or enjoying the outdoors. Recently we've had some rain, which curtails the outside activities, but I have plenty of sewing to do, so it's not like I'm bored. Yet this afternoon we discovered our kitchen ceiling was dripping water, um.... Hastily my husband inspected the crawl space on the floor above and sure enough there's a leak. SHOOT! My quilt design wall is in the room with the crawl space, so as we wait for the plumber to arrive, I thought I'd write a post about being in between projects while catching up with this blog.

It's not merely the sewing that is on the back burner, but at least with the noveling, I am engaged, although not actually writing. Yet edits are meaningful, and I *think* after I finish this round, I will indeed start the next book in my series. At least I hope to, leaking pipes notwithstanding. Not that corroded pipes automatically derail me from sitting at my computer, but routines get jumbled and novels get delayed and....

And sometimes detours emerge creating different pathways. I'd like to think I'm at the age where accepting sudden alterations isn't impossible, in that I know everything happens for a reason, even old plumbing. I am totally on board with following the spirit wherever I am led, not a problem at all. (Meanwhile I'm listening to the plumber talk about saws and starting in the kitchen, ahem.) But I know myself pretty well and I certainly prefer fewer bumps in the road whenever possible. Yet life isn't mine to control, other than the very basics. The spider who built the elaborate web my husband photographed early this morning probably didn't think, "My efforts here are futile." Well, maybe it assumed that web wouldn't last forever, if spiders have the capability to ponder such things. The spider simply made the web, and depending on how long it lives, it will make another, similar to how I write novels and sew quilts. I can't stop doing these things, and I feel better when I am doing them. I don't craft fiction or stitch for any reason other than personal pleasure, and where these creations end up, be it as a published story or gifted blanket, are to make my little corner of the world a little happier and warmer than it was previously.

Where corroded pipes fit into all this remains unknown. But I have to take the not so pleasant with the terrific and keep on trucking. And beautiful spiderwebs are welcome on the ride.

A sunny Sunday afternoon

A dahlia still thriving in the garden.

Rain is forecast for the next few days. Right now the sky is cloudless, although hours ago misty fog ruled the horizon. And a few days previously it was, get this, EIGHTY DEGREES FAHRENHEIT in our actual neck of the Redwoods. Global warming or late summer, take your pick. It was glorious, that's what it was, and our departing visitors joked that it's always that way along the North Coast.

I enjoyed hanging out with family this past week, days full of playtime and exploring, chats and many books read. My youngest granddaughter was keen on hearing Amelia Bedelia while her older sister enjoyed Horrible Histories, some Ramona books, and plentiful comics from Charles Schultz and Bill Watterson. Those sun-filled days seemed especially blessed, perfect weather to be out and about at our place or at the beach, where my better half and I took the grandgirls for a fine afternoon before high tide and a brisk wind sent us on our way. They all left on Friday, and just today I placed my sewing machine back on its table, where my daughter had worked remotely. Yesterday the ironing board was returned to its station, and this morning I got out the iron, pressing a few fabrics which I'll add to a quilt the girls and I designed. It needs more dark blue, and I'll swap in those newly cut squares later today or maybe tomorrow when the weather is better suited to indoor pastimes.

Amaryllis that will live to see a few more days.

Right now I need to be seated halfway in the sun, where my legs stay toasty, but my laptop screen is pretty washed out. It's an aged machine, but does the job, even in the elements, for which I am thankful because to be inside when it's so beautiful outside feels like a crime against nature as well as my mental health. Autumn is barreling its way along the seasonal road, dark mornings and early dusky evenings announcing summer's end despite lofty temperatures. Autumn also brings thoughts concerning books, although I will forgo a formal attempt at National Novel Writing Month. However I am planning to start work on Book 4 of my series, maybe within the next couple of weeks. During which time I'll sew up the quilt on the wall, cut fabrics for two other projects, and compile an unknown quantity of English paper pieced blocks. And of course weed and thin the irises, trim back the dahlias and amaryllis, and tame the blackberry bush heaving with unripened fruit. If I was smart and more motivated, I would do those garden activities now. But I'm feeling lazy, wishing instead to revel in the sunshine, not sweat in it.

I'm quite aware of the inner sense of simply being, perhaps a week spent with kids brought that into focus. I built Lego creations, played with Hot Wheels, watched the girls on the trampoline while drawn into their game of Charades. Yes often they were kangaroos and frogs, hehehe, but other animals emerged. We gathered wildflowers blooming in the bright sun, ate a few lingering fat blackberries, painted with watercolours and made cookies. When family visits, I am fully engaged with them.

My nasturtiums don't wander far, but in pots they reseed themselves all summer and make me smile.

Because after they leave, time returns me to my hobbies, and here I am, indulging in one of them. Birds chirp in a variety of cadences, the last apples from the tree dangling far too high for us to reach. Yet I made a cobbler with those my husband could pick, one piece left. On this sunny Sunday, my mind is a little drifty, anchored to reality but dreaming of future possibilities: books to write, quilts to sew, cobbler for dessert this evening, lol! 

Inadvertantly finding the path

Our western view a couple of evenings ago.

A month ago I started taking an online course on how to sew angles. I knew that I wasn't going to just dive right into this new element of stitching, filing away each course after a quick read-through of that week's topic. Quickly I realized this course would be something I'd give proper consideration to much further ahead, perhaps early in 2024, what with the end of 2023 zipping right along as though each day signified the end of the world as we know it.

I mean, here it is, the fourth of October! Where have the last nine months gone, truly I ask, without delving into the deeper query of what about the last five years, eight years, two freaking decades??? Ahem, okay, calm down Present Me, and focus on the post at hand.

Today's post is about accepting how suddenly, a mere month into this course about angles, I really have no aching desire to sew triangles or diamonds or parallelograms unless they are English paper pieced. I don't currently have time to measure so precisely or align seams so accurately or cut fabric in a manner that requires lots of shifts of rulers. Two months ago, when I signed up for this course, I assumed that yeah, my fear of triangles needed an overhaul and what better way to remedy that but to take a class designed to educate myself right out of that terror. Well, not terror, but I'll admit to a significant wariness when it comes to trying to align correctly fabrics on the diagonal. And now I find the anguish has slipped away, replaced by, "Huh. yeah, I could do all these fidgeting things and produce beautifully angled quilts, but I'd rather just sew right angles or baste paper pieces and...."

And yeah, huh. Fascinating. What I mean is I had no idea I even wanted to quilt until spending an hour in a chain fabric store with my eldest nine and a half years ago, walking out of said establishment with an armload of fat quarters and heaps of quilting blogs waiting in my inbox. Life throws a curve while planned activities fall away, revealing inner desires previously unrealized or long-held dreams suddenly thrust into the spotlight. Quilting and writing have become my strongholds, yet they have evolved in manners unexpected. I love crafting intricate sagas, plenty of angles within the prose, while the sewing is more straightforward, lol. Perhaps these angle classes will be something I share with the grandkids one day; together we'll learn how to make adorable machine-pieced triangle quilts. Or maybe next year I'll find myself utterly bored with squares, who knows? At the beginning of this year I had no idea what I would next write, last November's failure dogging my literary steps. Yet twelve months on from that dismal attempt, I have three completed novels and am edging toward the start of #4. I love keeping lists to assist in the shopping, etc, but spontaneity matters as well as acknowledging the best laid plans can be set aside. True creative joy emerges when the heart is engaged, not belabored, perhaps what I need to remember when agonizing over books not completed or class instructions filed away.

Orphan blocks are not like unfinished novels

It's a busy day, getting ready for guests that will enlighten our lives for the next week. However my feet are a little weary, so why not ramble here for a bit, giving those dogs a rest as well as set upon a discourse about the above title before I forget why I thought it was important (lol).

I don't even know why I first pondered this, maybe an IG poster mentioned them, which made me think of my orphan EPP blocks. I don't have many machine sewn blocks without a home, but plenty of English paper pieced designs linger in a tote, patterns I liked and HAD TO MAKE. I used plenty of them on a Turning Twenty quilt, decorating some plain tone-on-tone prints and that was a great manner in which to employ less than a quarter of what remains, ahem.

Oh and I used some on a t-shirt quilt that I made in conjunction with a friend, who had lived in Hawaii for a few years and wanted to put her aged shirts to quilty use. But still many remain, although I have a plan for them, hehehe. I am hoping to turn them into the upper blocks in a Wandering Wife quilt! Perhaps next year, if the planets align correctly.

From April 2020. Boy I made a lot of quilts that year.

Yet, what does all this have to do with how orphan blocks don't line up with writing. Well.... Orphan blocks can come to some good end, sewn with others to form a fascinating improv quilt or used as placemats or coasters or.... SOMETHING VIABLE. Something tangible. Something that doesn't sit in a flash drive, I mean tote, for the rest of its life, unlike an uncompleted novel that, well, sits in a flash drive and on a hard drive for the rest of its life.

If I felt like being generous, I could say something like this: "Well you know, just writing for the sake of practicing one's craft is enough. Not everything requires The End."

Which is true, okay, but I am all about finding a use for things. Small sewing, be it in mug rugs or EPP, can eventually be meshed into this or that item. But an unfinished manuscript, jeez, that makes me feel like.... It makes me cringe a little. Causes me to sigh heavily. Gives me pause for the work I put into not only the prose but the planning of the prose and all that time spent now lives in a dark virtual realm with no clear purpose.

Last year's NANO attempt is one such manuscript. I have another story that I began shortly after we moved to Humboldt County, and while it too isn't done, I possess more optimism for it than the NANO tale. Okay, so maybe it's last year's story that is really digging under my skin. I spent many afternoons writing character sketches, plot twists, timelines.... I corralled about twenty-five K, then bailed. Do I regret it? No. Well, I must regret some part of it because here I am, blah blah blahing about it. It's an orphan book that most likely won't find its way into a t-shirt quilt someday.

A mantra in the quilting world is that even projects or patterns that don't turn out the way the maker likes still have merit as a teaching tool, a way to further assess one's tastes, a manner of experimentation. I buy into that, because not everything I've made suits my taste, but other than a couple of futzy patterns, I have enjoyed just about all I have sewn. The t-shirt quilt was a little tricksy, but wow it's great looking. And I walked away from it fully aware I'd never make another, LOL! Yet that incomplete story.... Wow, that truly irritates me. And again, I can't put my finger on exactly why.

But I've described one way in which sewing isn't comparable with writing. For all their similarities, at least in my head, I can embrace orphan blocks, but not orphaned books. Now having spilled that heartache (and given my tootsies a break), I can move on with this day. Before guests arrive I have random cleaning to do, probably a cup of tea to sip, maybe some paper pieces to baste. And hopefully an incomplete story that I can now lay to rest, perhaps buried under adorable fabric scraps too small for even a one-inch hexie yet kept anyway merely for their beauty.

Big and small blocks (and books)

Mandolin block on the bottom, Cornflower block on top for size comparison.

Going between large and medium-sized English paper piecing blocks has been fascinating. I knew the Cornflower Quilt blocks were easy, both in the choosing of the fabrics as well as stitching those prints. But lately I have incorporated Mandolin blocks into my nightly routine and yeah. Size makes a difference.

It's the amount of time dedicated to completing a block. You could say it's like comparing a standalone novel to crafting a series, especially if the smaller quilt blocks are made from scraps or just not one theme of fabric. Which is the case for both of these EPP projects, lol. Why not find one more way quilting and writing go hand in hand, huh?

(Another post awaits for when I can't compare my fave hobbies, but for now....)

My first foray into English paper piecing was hexie flowers using 1.5" hexagons and the blocks weren't that big. Next were Mandolin blocks, way larger! Those were all made using scraps, but the ones I'm crafting now are concentrated on Art Gallery Fabrics in autumnal hues, with some of Karen Nyberg's Earth Views collection for variety, plus a few similarly coloured prints from my stash. That only matters in that currently I'm trying to not reuse a print or solid, going through all the curated fabrics before returning to mix and match. And I don't even know how many blocks I'm going to make; twelve or twenty? More blocks mean more joining pieces, ahem, meaning a long-term project, and that is FINE. English paper piecing is all about long term, sort of like writing a book series, hehehe.

Mandolin block unfettered.

I'm still revising my latest novel, and just this morning I finished a fast read-through of the first installment, investigating how far the characters have traveled, not in space, merely in decades. I'm pretty pleased with Book 1, which is great! Maybe tomorrow I'll take a stab at Book 2, to see how long the happiness lasts.

Meanwhile there are the Cornflower blocks, definitely scrappy, definitely easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy! Four shapes but I only consider three at a time when cutting fabric for them because all are bordered by diamonds in various shades of green. And the center is merely an octagon, so really all I have to plan are the eight petals, then eight squares, ba-da-bing, ba-da-BOOM! Yes I still have all the on-point squares to baste, but I have the fabrics and that will be relatively speedy. About ten blocks remain to stitch, and I've already designed four of those blocks, although the pieces have yet to be basted.

And let's not forget the Lavender quilt, or the Myrtle quilt, or the notion of starting a REALLY LONG TERM project with the grandkids with Jodi Godfrey's Ice Cream Soda quilt. About half an hour ago I finished basting kites and crowns for that adorable block, which I'll sew together this evening. And if I enjoy the process.... Then I need to chat with all four grandchildren to see if they would be interested in sewing along with me. But first things first: I need to stitch those kites and crowns, shapes I rarely use but enjoyed basting (and that has to be taken into account because EPP isn't just about stitching fabric-wrapped papers together but getting the fabric around said papers and loving that process too), to confirm that sewing them together thrills my soul. One never knows until giving it a go.

Which aligns to writing long sagas; I have wholly CLICKED with my cast, and can't wait to get Book 4 underway. It helps that these tales, while deeply intertwined, are also unique from one another. Years pass, galaxies alter, time goes backwards, certainly enough plot to keep me focused and entertained. Cliffhangers aside, these stories are each their own animal, just like EPP patterns aren't merely the same quilt over and over.  I love what I do, and I appreciate their nuances. And now it's time to wrap this up and cut more fabric!

Rain

In the last twenty-four hours, we have received nearly two inches of precipitation. The photo above was taken yesterday at 4.25 p.m., and overnight a little more landed in the gauge. The air is clear over most of Northern California and in Southern Oregon too. Fires are still burning, but a great relief has been experienced.

When we lived in Silicon Valley, fire wasn't a major threat until the summer of 2020. I think back to those days, packing precious belongings as we were near an evacuation warning zone. I keep a go bag at my bedside now, in part from the threat of earthquakes, but fire remains a major issue, and then rain falls, rain so prevalent earlier this year but extremely absent for the last several. As the sun streams in my office window, I am still picturing yesterday's gray skies, water pouring from the heavens, dousing the flames and bringing respite.

Not much else to report, in that the writing, sewing, etc, are about as usual. I have begun revisions on my novel, have nearly finished up autumn placemats, with another couple of coasters awaiting attention. I sewed them up while watching water stream from clouds onto the ground. I can't fully express how grateful so many hearts are this morning for yesterday's weather. Hopefully this storm will usher in a temperate, damp autumn; for now, it's time to dump the gauge as maybe a little more precip will arrive overnight!

A finish and a start

Okay so today is the official beginning of autumn, whatever. I was fairly loopy yesterday morning, and surprisingly I didn't get tired until about seven p.m. I was able to stave off the yawns by starting a little 1.5" diamond cutie, pictured above. More about that, perhaps even in this post. First, however, I FINISHED MY NOVEL. Woo hoo and all that!

So let me just say that while I knew the end was in sight, I didn't imagine The End would arrive on a day when sleep was minimal, skies were (and still are) smoky, yet rain is on the horizon. I had hopes of completing this story maybe by Monday? Maybe. And that maybe is mostly due to not wanting to rush myself, as well as the drama, but more me. Taking one's time to wrap up a project is necessary, although a few of my books (and quilts) have been finished in a rather speedy fashion. As this novel is packed with alluded to details, it was a little tricky about what to wholly reveal and what to hint toward and what to spell out in full. Spoilers you understand, but suddenly around ten o'clock yesterday morning I found The End clearly within my grasp. Huh, I thought, that wasn't expected. But I didn't argue with the muse, Future Me or anyone else. I kept typing and there it was, my protagonist hoping to get back home in one piece with their sanity intact. Ba-dump-bump, Bob's your uncle, and there's another novel under my belt.

Yet when crafting a series, another novel in the can doesn't mean I move onto something different. Each story is unique yes, but these folks are going to be with me for a few years, unless I get hit by a bus tomorrow. Barring that, I'm in hip-deep with a variety of Humans and other species, lol, timelines bouncing all over the place. This isn't how I began my writing journey; standalones were my focus, until I stumbled onto Alvin Harris. That chap began my love affair with creating sagas, morphing into the massive tome that is The Hawk, which currently is available in three volumes, but if broken down into typical novel length works out to about ten books. Last year I published That Which Can Be Remembered, merely a three-book endeavor. As for the current series, which I refer to here as Four Corners, I'm looking at something about the size of The Hawk, give or take.... That remains unknown, Future Me isn't even proffering a clue. Which is for the best because if she had told me how ginormous The Hawk was going to be, I might have bailed out long before The End was apparent.

English paper piecing is a lot like writing a series, in that with all three I 'knew' the end, but not how to get there. Currently I have three different EPP quilt projects going, and am considering another, LOL! I'm not going to blather about that unless I decide it's definitely part of the rota. This happens to novels too; last November I wrote about 25K for NANOWRIMO then gave up. The story wasn't hitting all my sweet spots and I couldn't keep plugging away at it. I did the same earlier this year with my Alexandria EPP quilt. Both projects haven't been jettisoned however, who knows if/when I'll return to them.

Well, Future Me knows, but she isn't saying and I'm not asking. I have enough in front of me, and one more novel on my personal All I Have Written list. That's a nice feeling, in which I will bask for a few weeks, then back onto the noveling horse with Book 4 of the series!

Up early

Most recent Mandolin block laid out, minus the perimeter diamonds.

Being awake at 4.21 a.m. (when I began writing this post) happens occasionally. It's not due to being uncaffeinated, I'd like to think I'm over that adjustment. It's partly due to a rather cool night that my summer duvet wasn't quite prepared for; later today I'll switch it out to the autumn quilt better suited to keeping me warm. It was also partly due to being near the end of my novel, HURRAY! Which is interpreted by Semi-conscious Me when waking at not quite 3 a.m. as, "Hmmm. It's early, yes, but I've slept a good stretch and well, if I don't immediately go back to sleep, I could get up, make the morning decaf brews, then sit for a bit, wake up a little more, then start today's chapter." Yeah, that's how I roll sometimes, not much I can do about it.

But after perusing my fave internet sites (Wikipedia, the weather, catching up with what Bluey episodes I've seen), I wasn't ready to write. I might WANT to write, however my mental bandwidth for decent creative work requires a modicum of alertness that has yet to be achieved. But a blog post? Sure, LOLOL! That's a wholly different kind of writing that if I'm a tad loopy can be disguised as, "Oh yeah, I've been up since not quite three this morning."

Which is not to say, dear reader, that I disregard your time in digesting this entry by merely knocking off some trivial hoo haa just for the sake of it. But in addition to writing, sewing, and blathering about myself in the past, present, and future tenses, this blog is also about me in a wider sense that those previously listed important elements shape, but not define. Not that getting up at this stupid hour of the day (night) sets who I am in stone, other than to note in getting older (ahem, this blog is also about that sweetheart), sleeping well EVERY SINGLE NIGHT isn't always a given. I sleep well most nights. I am also up early most mornings, albeit not this early.

Yet here I am. Awake. And it's now 4.34 a.m. I retrieved the space heater from my office closet as it was just a wee bit chilly, the first time I've required that small push of extra warmth since last spring, which is fitting as here in America today is the official start of fall. Our AQI remains volatile, but the last few days have been sunny with a side of thick haze. Rain is forecast for Monday and God willing we'll get enough not only to clear the skies but douse the fires causing more problems than crappy air quality. I can't complain about the AQI because when temps were warmer, we were blessed with winds that blew the smoke north into Oregon, allowing us to sleep unfettered with open windows. But it's forty-seven degrees Fahrenheit out right now, no need to crack the window, and better to breathe with it closed.

Which doesn't have much to do with not sleeping, merely an early morning observation, blah blah blah. I could digress about my book, but I won't, in that a few chapters remain, although how many remains a mystery. Yet at nearly eighty-six K, the end is in sight, a big heartache still to craft, another cliffhanger to unfurl. No further spoilers to reveal, lol, other than action adventure, while not my usual domain, is going okay, but boy I can't wait to get to the next installment, more tuned to my melodrama/love story wheelhouse. That's a consideration for October, which at this rate will arrive far sooner than I imagined. Or it feels that way as this day has begun before I dreamed it would.

Okay, maybe I'm awake now. Or perhaps I require another warm but uncaffeinated beverage. In any case, I think I've said within this post all that needs saying. Or stating. Or yeah, it's early. I'm awake. Best of luck with that Present Me, ba-dump-bump!