I’ve been doing a lot of knitting lately. I’m needle deep in American Girl sweaters at the moment. Normally knitting is very good for the muse—the busy work for the hands often leads to freedom for the brain to wander at will. For stimulating the muse, it’s as good as the shower but I don’t have to get naked.
Right now, though, the knitting is coinciding with the time of year I get very, very introspective about the whole writing thing. Where I’ve been, where I am, where I’m going. Somewhere along the line, I started dropping stitches writing-wise. It’s easy to get caught up in what everybody else is doing—the NY deals, the multibook contracts, the market watching. This is hot, that is hot, So-and-So started out on the same eHQ threads and is now a superstar. Blah blah blah.
I feel like I’m just throwing stitches on the needle as fast as I can, hoping it comes out okay. Sometimes I think it’ll be a nice little lapthrow. Sometimes I’m hoping it’ll be a incredibly detailed sweater. What I’m really heading for is one long-ass scarf.
It’s okay if you have no idea what the hell I’m talking about. I barely do. But the bottom line is a major refocusing at Casa Shannon. I don’t really give a shit what’s hot, and who made a gazillion dollar deal in what’s hot, and yadda yadda yadda.
I want to write category. Always have. Still do. So I’m dropping the crazy scarf and casting on a fresh row. Wish me luck.