With the writing, I fall into my story, lost in the research, and imagine what happens next. With quilting, I get up and move from sewing machine to ironing board and back again. I read somewhere that we're not supposed to hunch over the keyboard for hours. My reality? Since straining my hamstring, I can't sit still so long.
But, both occupations are equally entrancing.
QUILTING: I'm working on the borders for a wall hanging of two leaping salmon, finished sashiko style (a traditional Japanese form). When I checked Kitty Pippen's Quilting with Japanese Fabrics to make sure the background grid was positioned properly, I spotted one of her wall hangings. She'd used a Japanese fabric to frame to sashiko. Immediately I dove into my Japanese fabric stash to find the perfect quarter. Making progress!
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| Sashiko project posted on my story corkboard |
WRITING: Each Wednesday, we writers participating in WIPpet are to post a snippet somehow related to the date from our current WIP (work in progress). Here are 15 sentences to honor the last of 2015.
Context: The fur brigade has edged closer to Fort Vancouver on the Columbia River. It's November, 1846, and Cat, disguised as a boy, still travels undiscovered as an assistant to artist Paul Kane. Close to her goal, she yet hopes she'll find Dougal at Fort Vancouver.
For the first time in a long while, Cat and Kane rode in the same canoe, seated in the center, the oarsmen paddling hard, and the river calm ahead of them. The two were silent for a time.
Kane straightened his back and stretched. “If we’re lucky, we won’t see much more rough water.”
“I’ll believe that when I see it,” said Cat.
“What if you don’t find your brother? Have you made any plans?” asked Kane.
“Don’t want to think about it. I’ll find him.” Cat hunched under her blanket.
“But if you don’t?”
“I’ll think about it if I can’t find him.” Cat sat forward, away from Kane. She didn’t want to talk about it anymore. Ahead of the boat, an westerly wind pushed rain clouds their direction.
For the first time in a long while, Cat and Kane rode in the same canoe, seated in the center, the oarsmen paddling hard, and the river calm ahead of them. The two were silent for a time.
Kane straightened his back and stretched. “If we’re lucky, we won’t see much more rough water.”
“I’ll believe that when I see it,” said Cat.
“What if you don’t find your brother? Have you made any plans?” asked Kane.
“Don’t want to think about it. I’ll find him.” Cat hunched under her blanket.
“But if you don’t?”
“I’ll think about it if I can’t find him.” Cat sat forward, away from Kane. She didn’t want to talk about it anymore. Ahead of the boat, an westerly wind pushed rain clouds their direction.
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| Winter along the Columbia River Source: http://www.wunderground.com/wximage/Olbetsy/1880 |
Why not visit those other authors who, despite the holiday rush, have posted a snippet from their writing for WIPpet Wednesday?
Or, consider joining in. One of the advantages of posting work that's fresh off that keyboard is you can peer more closely at that first draft and share a bit of your story.
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