It is coming to that time of year when the sun shines through the fan light in the front door, casting splashes of sunlight on the floor.
It turned cold again this week but the gift is the clear skies (mostly) and brilliant sunshine glaring off the heaps of snow.
It has been no hardship for me to stay in and plug away at the loom and the desktop, looking up and out the window at times to drink in the view. We don't have the prettiest view, we live in a subdivision after all, but it's been our view for over 40 years now. We watch the seasons roll by, the trees coming into leaf, then change colours, then be draped with snow. A reminder that we live in a cycle and nothing lasts forever.
I reached a point where I realized I had to stop and do some organizing and part of that was to begin editing. Each essay had been printed out, in all its roughness, so I finally got the hole punch, punched holes in the pages and then 'filed' them in a three ring binder. The binder was pretty much full and the number of essays (including the introduction) was 25.
It seemed like a good number at which to stop and begin to take stock. Even my sub-conscious seemed to agree as it did not insist I write another - until I was almost half way through reading/editing those.
Not wanting to be distracted I refused to go write more until those were done and then the whole lot sent to two alpha readers.
It was satisfying to read through what I'd done so far and discover that the only editing was mostly just correcting typos and clarifying vague statements. I mean, *I* know what I meant, but the meaning would be less clear to someone else. So a few sentences got some minor surgery.
While I know there are other things I could write about, I'm not sure I should, given how much I've already said about processes, plus the online classes where I not only talk about but can demonstrate the techniques. Will an essay actually add anything?
Instead I found myself combing through memories of trips, workshops I've taken, weaving instructors I've learned from. I may continue in that vein although it wasn't my primary thought when I started writing. But if I'm going to completely embrace the storyteller in me, perhaps those are the stories that most need to be told?
At any rate, with one 1" binder 'full', any further essays will go into a separate folder on the desktop and be filed in a second binder. Still have no idea how many there will be and frankly I'm not sure how many more there *should* be.
I keep remembering the comment one writer made somewhere - an author doesn't finish writing a book - they simply *stop* writing a book. With a collection of essays, I can see that being especially true.
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