Books are strange things. You work and work and then work some more and then you wait. In my mind the next book is done, but in reality it has yet started its journey. I’m not complaining; I love doing books and feel lucky that people keep letting me make them. It’s just this interstitial period, between going to press and going to market that drives me a little batty.
You see, I don’t wait well. It’s not that I Iack patience. I’m a quilter for Pete’s sake; I have no problem spending days and days cutting things apart and putting them back together. But this isn’t a tedious task; it’s a kind of suspended animation, a waiting with nothing to do.
Maybe my gloom is because the kids have gone back to school at the exact time that I ran out of work on this baby. I’ve grown so accustomed to having them both hanging around – the book and my children. The house has grown so quiet, so still, at least during school hours.
I need another project, but I don’t know what to start. Seeing that I have not one, but two books coming out early next year it’s going to be a while before I can get going on another. I’m kinda quilted out after making a bazillion new quilts for said book. I should probably take up knitting, but I am entirely helpless on that front; turning yarn into a thing truly seems like a mystical dark art.
So maybe I’ll come back here, to this blog that has lain fallow for the last few years. Once upon a time I loved blogging out into the ether so others could possibly read and maybe even relate. Yeah, that’s probably what I need to do, get myself back into the habit of writing every day. Not on a single project like the book (or the other book), but just writing about whatever stuff happens to be bouncing around my brain. Maybe it will even quiet things down in there so I can actually sleep at night…