The silk strips pictured above are what remains of two pieces that I painted. After years of sitting in my Good Stuff pile, I finally sliced into them. Now that I’ve crossed that scary bridge, I can actually look forward to using the remnants in something else. I may use everything in one project or just use a bit, leaving even smaller scraps. They are still treasures, but no longer too precious to touch. I can feel creativity filling the space that has opened up now that I’m no longer crushed by the weight of waiting for the perfect project. Maybe you will feel this same relief when you cut your most valued fabric.
I’m reading an abridged version of Winston Churchill’s history of the Second World War (seriously, who has time for all six volumes if you aren’t doing research?) and it has reminded me of the critical value of writing your own story. Churchill writes in detail about the war (because he can), but he also writes from the perspective of living through the events. I’m a political history major, so I thought I had a good handle on WWII, but I am understanding so much more with Churchill’s book. The same thing is true of us. Every time my mom shares stories of her life – even ones I have heard at least part of before – I understand more about the times, the mood, the sticking points that carried down the years because she is sharing more of her perspective of the event. A friend of mine has included some of her childhood on a farm in her latest book, and I am astounded at all I am learning of what that kind of life entailed. Even if your life has been on the quiet side, uncelebrated outside of a close circle, write your story. It doesn’t have to be memoir. You can include your experience in fiction, in poetry, in a screenplay. We all benefit when we get to see the world through another person’s perspective.
This is the travel project I brought with me to the literary festival. It’s a simple pattern, and I finished it by the end of my shift. The most difficult part was finding a place on the table for the book with the pattern when people came to talk. The reason I brought this project was the base – the aida cloth surrounded by pink satin – was created from scraps a long time ago. It was waiting in my embroidery bag for the perfect project. “Self,” I said, “today this is the perfect project because I can do most of it at the festival.” I opened one of my cross-stitch books and chose the bird pattern because it didn’t need a lot of thread. I chose the spring-ish colors because I knew I could see them regardless of the light level at my table. The visitors to the table liked what I was doing, and I like the result. I’m still not sure what I will do with it, but at least I’m not staring at a blank canvas.
The reality of a writer’s life is selling books at workshops, festivals, and conferences. Whether this is fun or misery for you is irrelevant. One day you will find yourself sitting at a table, surrounded by your books, waiting for the buyers to arrive. Here are a few tips that gracious mentors have shared with me that have made a difference in my experience:
Bring food. I’m not talking about your lunch, snacks, and beverage. I’m talking about food you will make available to anyone who walks by. I keep a small bowl of wrapped treats on the corner of my table (notice the little bowl on a literary festival display table for Tri-Valley Writers in the picture above – it really doesn’t take up much space). Yes, sometimes people just stride by and snag a piece, but sometimes they stop and talk. I figure if grabbing that candy puts them in a better mood for the next author table, I’m building up good karma.
Bring something to work on. I usually have a hand-sewing project with me, but you could bring any small project (whittling, anyone?). Having something to do with my hands keeps me from staring at the crowd, desperately trying to make eye contact. It also attracts people to the table, and often they want to tell me the story of their mother/aunt/grandmother/crazy neighbor who was always doing something with a needle and thread. After I’ve heard their story, they ask me about mine. It doesn’t always lead to a sale, but talking with people is good. It makes your table look more interesting if there is a conversation going on.
Bring a pillow. Folding chairs lose their charm after an hour or so.
Wear comfortable but sturdy shoes. I’ve yet to staff a table where I could stow all my extra stuff anyplace other than around my feet. Having good foot support is essential for your image as a competent, confident author. No one looks good pitching headlong toward the floor.
Bring several notebooks and pens. I can’t tell you the number of times my trusty notebook has disappeared the very moment I need it. I’ll often have two or three backups in my purse, and at least one that I can sacrifice so I can write something down for visitors, rip out the page, and let them go on their way.
None of these tips are guaranteed to increase sales, but they will make your time at the table less stressful. Sometimes, that’s a really big win.
I have a fabric collection for seascapes. They are not all in the same place, and when I’m inspired to attempt another seascape quilt I end up searching for that perfect fabric that must be around someplace and of course never finding it. I did, however, find a picture of the San Francisco Bay taken under unusual circumstances. The water in the photo was a brilliant coral, as was the sky. Some of the fabrics I choose for the barn quilt were more coral than pink, so I set them aside for this seascape. Somewhere in my studio I have a sparkly copper that I wanted to use for the panel on the right, but it is still hiding. Instead, I used a hand-painted cotton that was willing to make its presence known. Perhaps I should announce to the various fabrics in my studio that if they want to find their way into a quilt, they have to volunteer.
Every author has dreams of writing a book with The Big Idea – or at least a big idea. Sometimes that dream is spurred by years of contemplating the important questions of life, other times by wanting to comment on the state of the world as it is and as it should be. Science fiction is well-suited to big ideas – you get to create your own universe, so why not address issues you find compelling? Three of my friends have written big idea books that also tell a ripping good yarn (their books are pictured above). That’s the second part of the dream – writing a book that is entertaining as well as instructive. It’s not a trivial problem to solve, but I think those who try should be commended. Of course, that’s also my self-interest talking, since Ann Anastasio and I have inserted some Big Ideas in our Chenille series, and hope our readers kinda like what we did.
My reinterpretation of a painting of a barn continued with its twists and turns. The space barn idea is a definite no-go. As I worked on the design, I realized that certain angles were never going to look right. I considered using applique for some units, until I started adding up the inches and realized this piece would be huge. “Self,” I said, “let’s start whittling.” The first thing I cut was the size by ending the piece with the units I had completed. Then I added the moon in a spot that I hope informs the viewer that the barn is not in one plane. My original title for the piece was “Under the Strawberry Moon.” At the moment, the working title is “The Broad Side of A Barn (And, No, I Can’t Hit It).” We’ll see what other options get whittled out the next time I work on it. For the moment, it is done enough for the Challenge.
My stories rarely start with my first words. Yes, I know through study and experience that stories evolve; that the first paragraph, page or chapter will likely be rewritten many times; that even the best plotter leaves room for discovery. It doesn’t matter. Humans are exceptionally skilled in self-deception, and I can take my place in the higher ranks when it comes to my own writing. This would not be a problem if I enjoyed revising, but I don’t. I want to write and move on. Then the universe pats me on the head and whispers, “Oh, you sweet thing.” If this is your experience as well, let’s design club jackets, right after we revise our opening lines for the gazillionth time.
The first point of departure from the plan for my architectural quilt came sooner than I expected. The very first unit threw me a curve. The painting has a shadow on the leftmost part of the barn that I drew accurately, but didn’t piece properly. I left it as it was and went on to the next unit. The roof line gave me trouble, so I went to the third unit. I figured I’d just work my way across the quilt top from left to right until I found my groove. Well, looking at what I had sewn, I realized I would have to fix the issues sooner rather than later because the units needed to be pieced together in a different order than I had started. Luckily, I had wanted to depict a barn in moonlight, not sunlight. Once you put a dark background on a landscape, it’s no big deal to turn it into a space quilt. If I can’t make this thing look like a barn, I’ll make it look like a space station. At least I still like the way the pinks and blacks are playing together.
To celebrate Poetry Month, Tri-Valley Writers invited Gillian Wegener to speak about the relevance of poetry in everyday life. As she took the podium, I noticed my fingernails. Usually I don’t care about the way my fingernails look, but I was the designated tech person that day and my hands were all over the computer we use to record the meeting. We’ll take a short pause here to let the people who know me well stop laughing. I am not the tech person in my family – immediate, extended, going back seven generations, whatever. I will, however, volunteer to be a back-up and hope I never have to do it. Well, I had to do it, and although I had notes I was terrified at the number of things I could do wrong without meaning to. While Gillian was introducing herself, I dashed off a few lines about my feelings. It needs a lot of work, but I’ll probably keep the last line: My fingernails catch on buttons and icons/sending me into ethernet hell.
Turns out this was the gist of Gillian’s speech – poetry gives us words for the inexpressible. No matter what you write, exploring poetry will provide you with insights into your thought process. That’s a valuable tool to have when the words start hiding in random brain cells and you need to lure them out on the page.
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