Yesterday was a day of very good intentions and very little progress. I rotated between the still nameless foal that arrived unannounced to disrupt our lives and my efforts to convince people to vote in cover wars. I was grateful to those that took the time to click the link, but I was left thinking about how we are really only motivated when an action is of direct benefit to us personally.
And so how did I become the cynical old lady sitting behind a laptop in rural New Zealand? It happened because I have a bad habit of talking without thinking. Of putting my hand up in an effort to make things better or naively deciding that I can do that! Of course when I said “I think I will write a novel” my limited knowledge extended to the title and the end. The 100,000-00 words between and how to formulate them were a total mystery. That “I can do it” attitude gets me in to whole a lot of trouble and invariably gets me a whole lot of work.
The story itself came to me while dangling a fishing line unproductively over the side of our boat and contemplating another lamb chop on the barbecue. Of course it is a work of fiction but I dispute that our life experiences and the characters in our writing can be totally unconnected. There must be some link between our writing and those that have influenced or touched our real lives. I would hate to think that these interesting figments of my imagination were just a way to explain my imaginary friends!
It has been over two years since I waded in to the frustrating, rewarding and foreign world of self-publishing. The Quilt, Unravelled is now a reality and I have written those wonderful words “the end”. But have I learnt my lesson? Did I actually realize how much work is involved in getting a novel to the stage where I can click publish. No it appears not. My laptop is again beckoning and more imaginary friends are filling my mind.
I will leave you with some more images of the New Zealand landscape and how the more rugged and untamed parts of Twin Pines Station would have appeared.