I've become me interested in short stories again. Partly because writing something the length of a fantasy novel stops me looking at each sentence closely. I've lost a sense of the texture of language. I'm writing the fantasy at speed, when I write it, trying to get the story down. A short story, or a poem, demands a more careful scrutiny. So, what happens with the fantasy novel, is that I'm spending a fair bit of time re-visiting it, pulling the actual writing into shape. That's fine, but I figured that trying a couple of short stories wouldn't go astray.
Interestingly enough, the short story has refused to remain short. Sigh. It feels a little like the short stories that went on to make my novel Painted Love Letters felt like. Oh well. I guess this is what happens when you have a more organic and less planned approach to writing.
(The Accountant thinks I should just rein it in. Make it conform to the word budget! The Accountant is on a steep learning curve. Feel for him, gentle reader. It should be said for the Accountant that he is also enjoying hearing the progress of this story. It's a story for adult readers so he's less concerned about trying to convince me to insert car chases to speed up the action.)
I'm still finishing the Cappucino vest for the above mentioned Accountant.
I have finished a baby sweater which was sent to our new niece.
I have started a vest in some kind 'no animal was remotely inconvenienced in the making of this' yarn - it'll be one of those comfy, at-home vests, I think.
I have started making my daughter's obligatory new winter thing - this time a cardigan with a feather and fan bottom. I'm making up the pattern as I go so there will be hiccups no doubt.
I'm also making myself a cardigan from Rowan Aryan. It has cables. I'm very proud of the cables. I have to frog one whole side of it, but I'm still proud of those cables.
I have also ordered a heap of knitting books, so see me through the cold cold winter.
Best get on with the slightly longer than I'd planned short story.