Last night I sat down and started writing my grand novel for NaNoWriMo. I wrote all of 496 words (oh yeah, I’m so well on my way to 50,000 can’t you tell). I hadn’t sat down and written up a plot, I hadn’t formed my characters and had absolutely no freaking idea what the hell I was doing. Okay, so I still have no idea what I’m doing, but I’m going to persevere.
To take my mind off all the writing, I sat down and whipped up a little mug rug, which is nearly complete, just needs the binding to be put on (pictures shall follow), and I’ve decided I quite like doing some little mini projects in between all the big piecing and quilting. I’ve bought a couple more of Elizabeth Hartman’s patterns so I can decide which three quilts I’m going to start making for a very special project. The Adelaide Craft and Quilt fair is on this weekend, and I’m going and can’t wait, because it means I can get some great fabric (I hope).
So after a long (and very boring day) at work where I was sitting there obsessing over character names and plots and sub plots, I realised that I was making it way harder on myself than it had to be. I had been trying to create a story and fly by the seat of my pants (which wasn’t working for that story at all), when I had a great story in my head, one that I had been wanting to write for the last two years, since just after I met my partner. So I’ve scrapped the original story, and have started the new one, and I can feel the ideas coming thick and fast and the words are flowing. I’m feeling slightly more confident about the coming month. I’m not out to write the next bestseller, just a story that my family will love.