The Witches Start Tomorrow

My stories are scheduled to pop up at 6 p.m. If there is a guest witch, that’s set to appear at 6:15. Some of mine are not that great. The detective one, especially, doesn’t work. But I learned a lot from writing it–like how hard it must be to write very short mysteries.

Plus, eh, you know, I think it’s okay to publicly suck sometimes. The cool thing with doing something like trying to come up with thirty stories in, basically, three months is that it lets you see how sometimes the crap that comes out is crap and sometimes it’s good and it’s hard to know which you’re going to get when. And I was terrified at the start because none of the first ones were really grabbing me. Not in a way that made me think “This is going to stick with people.” And I really thought it would be downhill from there. But I think a lot of the better stories are later, when I was sure there was nothing left.

Anyway, I’m really looking forward to it. So, let’s all meet back here at this time tomorrow and we’ll get started.

Superstitious

I get weirded out a little by having a bunch of posts all scheduled. Like I could die and stuff would still come.

It gives me the heebie jeebies.

On the other hand, if I knew I was dying–like if the doctor was like “You have three days to live,” but I felt okay–I would schedule a post for like in a year that just said, “Boo!”

Nope, It Has to Be Red

I have been spending some quality time with the black and white blanket and the seams have to be red. It needs a kind of vibrant shocking counterpoint to all the sameness. And don’t get me wrong. I love the sameness. I want you to see the very subtle ways the grays, especially, are different. But you’re going to need something to carry your eye along, to break up the sameness over such a large area. The small blue blanket I made for Dr. J. worked, in part, because it was small. It could be all blues because your eye had what was beyond the edges. With something as large as an adult afghan, you need something on the field, so to speak, to break things up.

That’s got to be the red yard tying it together.