Time to Unpick and Restitch

An interesting title for someone who came 52nd out of 52 in needlework. The most undomesticated of creatures, I was always bound for different pursuits. Who did I take after, I wonder? I look like my mother but we clashed. My opinions were not her opinions. I like to think I am more like my father who gave up his grammar school education to travel the world as a cabin boy/ steward at sixteen. He must have had dreams. Having visited Japan, New Zealand, South Africa and Vancouver Island in the mid 1920s, I now wonder why he settled back in his home town until the second war. Later, after postings in post-war Germany, insurgent Egypt and troubled Malaya, was his wanderlust satisfied, somehow? I wish I could ask him.

No my unpicking and restitching comes from comments from beta readers and my reading of other books. I left too many questions unanswered, too many characters on the sidelines, too many hazy ghosts with stories of their own to tell. I was concerned that readers would dislike being pulled out of the main story, but how can someone know or guess the motivation of others when they are so far detached?

Amidst my gardening, baking, jam-making, rhubarb gin brewing,I have walked the country lanes. Enjoyed the wild flower strewn paths, the wild mallow and yarrow humming with the bright tiny wings of the Cinnabar Moth while new characters speak to me, tell me their stories, explain their motivations. I have gone home, written their tales and now it’s time to find a home for them and restitch the story together, taking out other sections which have become redundant. One day this book will surface.