churning the scrap basket

 

conversations

Going forward, posts like this about the writing life will go to Cooking the Hook. 

Art and fiber-related posts will stay here, but damn, I can crossover on a whim. Nice being a landlord.

  It was much too early for that kind of conversation. Let's just call that a fever dream. I had my booster Monday and ran a little hot that night. 

Here's a sweeter conversation. A dear friend called out of the blue. We've known each other forever. Two human beings could not be more at odds, but the core of our relationship was our good fortune of having had decades-long marriages to good men. 

Time and distance did their thing but Barb and I still had the biannual hour-long catch-up calls. This time she shocked me. My dear girl has always been straight as an arrow and charmingly old-fashioned. How we meshed remains a mystery. She called to tell me that she's bought my books, read them and loved them and when was the next one coming out.  

I guess I had better pick up the pace.

Extravagance

 

Let a fine day begin with long-awaited new shoes arriving just in time. AND, miracle of miracles, they fit and do not offend my fashion insensibilities. In the past month, I have bought four pairs of shoes online and sent all of them back. Shopping in person is even harder when you wear 10W.  

The crown and heart of this day was a surprise ice cream social for my co-pirate and his bestie since pre-K.

We scarfed up the ice cream, wished we had brought sweaters, and just watched these two spiral around each other. She will be moving away in a few weeks, but for now, the joy overcomes the sorrow of the days ahead. I think they will keep in touch.

I bought myself a traditional derelict bouquet from the nearly dead bin and cooked for myself something that was not whatever slammed between two slices of bread.  

 

You can see my hairy friend waiting for me to look away so she could lick the plate.

I wish there had been wine. Still, I corrected my chemistry, put on some music, and stalked the internet boyfriend for a while.

All of this in an effort to NOT keep checking on the stats of my first ever advertising promotion for the book. This screengrab for book one of the trilogy was the peak. Color me thrilled.

Voices in my head.

 

"What do you remember? Don't close your eyes." He touched her forehead. "Look at me. What were you feeling?"

"Fury."

Characters in conversation can take the story to places I never anticipate.

I've been reading a book about the importance of outlining (in a very specific way) and I just can't feature doing it.

Free is good

 It's back to work Monday. All kinds of work. Here's some fun stuff. 

All this week, the Kindle version of Out of Step, book one of the Prophets Tango trilogy is FREE !! 

I feel a little like a crack dealer though, 'cause I promise you'll be back for the other two to complete the story.  Go here for that free taste.   

Turns out that little snip of conversation that I started the other day is going to be in book 4. 

I love it when they let me eavesdrop.

of a Sunday

  

We flung ourselves across the bed and read comic books, taking turns with the panels. Stopping to research things that were unknown. Kilroy was here. Inconsequential. He has a phenomenal vocabulary grasping the nuances of words mostly from context. "Where they live."

I am re-watching the most amazing film adaptation of a novel- Cold Mountain with Jude Law and Nicole Kidman. I'm in the mood for pure love and stone heartbreak. Don't know if I'll make it all the way through.

There's a book waiting for me, too. 

Not so very social media

 Starting this conversation with a long, hard look at some things that are hanging all around me. 

That they are here is not so much depressing, but an indictment of my scatteredness.  

Between homeless pieces of art and peddling Prophets Tango, it seems like lately most of my ram is devoted to marketing. I am out of ram this morning. 

I was geared up to a small promotion on FB tomorrow - a group of 90K+ potential readers- BUT the Zuck threw me in jail for a comment that Violated Community Standards. I'm sure many of you belong to Guerilla Sewing. Someone posted a set of fabulous gallery shots of her work. Large, in-hoop embroidered pieces that included LED accents that illustrated online icons and images. Wonderful, engaging work. Once piece done on vintage doilies had SEND NUDES. It made me laugh out loud. 

I commented "SEND NUDES....hilarious and wonderful" and was instantly banned from FB for 24 hours.  Zuck would be getting on my last nerve, but I won't give him the power.  Fuck you FaceBook.

You go first...

 

No, you start.

 Okay. What do you remember?

not humpday

 

What a fine day yesterday was. Clear skies, warm sun, picnic with a live friend. A long overdue visit. Marked for a repeat soon. 

Today, a spell of grayness sets in. Perfect for some quiet cloth shuffling. List making. Music listening. Plotting.

I'm packing up orders to take to the post office tomorrow. Thursdays at 1:30 seems to be the magic hour there. Few cars outside, no lines. Staff back from lunch looking to get on with their day. In and out in five minutes has been the rule.

My co-pirate was here for a little bit on Sunday. As soon as he got home his other front baby tooth fell out. Here he is dreaming about the tooth fairy. Photo by his Dad. Tinkering with it by me. If I leaned toward painting, I'd make this one huge.

looking and listening

 

The intention is to let the elements express their un-fussed-with state as much as possible. Guide and direct the flow of cloth with invisible stitching.

Then define the conversation with other kinds of stitching. Time to go very slow.

Spellwork takes time.