Mt.Vesuvius--Vanquished by the Amish

           I was reading Cathy C. Hall's blog, and she was writing about mistakes we make--in life, in writing. I wrote a comment about my former life as a quilter, and it prompted me to dig up an old wall hanging.

        This wall hanging was made during a retreat. Since I hate using the machine am not overly fond of working with a sewing machine, in times such as this--where the machine was used for lots and lots of piecing--I cursed and spit and threatened my Singer machine...a lot.

      Sometimes you're not thrilled with the writing process when it comes to a particular draft. But be persistent...

    However, as the weekend progressed, I was pleased with the results. The colors, the "movement" in the piece.

     Celebrate the small victories in writing. You crafted a great phrase, a wonderful image, an effective metaphor? Revel in it. And then continue writing...

           All these evil lovely diamonds were coming together--in rows--to create larger diamonds. How cool. It was somewhat of a mystery what it would look like once it was completed, but the parts were pleasing...so far.

       Sometimes, when you're working on a poem, a story, a novel--you're not sure where it's going to go.  Enjoy it when you step off the cliff.  If you know the characters, the story will take off on its own direction in a sure-footed manner. If it's a poem--well, ask Fireblossom what it's like to "freefall" while writing poetry.

      I was ecstatic when I finally got the thing pieced together. The final step--before it was basted and then hand-quilted--was pressing it. I proudly took my creation to the ironing board and started to press. And press.

    Unfortunately, no matter now hard I pressed down with the iron, the center would not be subdued. The middle would not lie down flat. All those diamonds converged in the center and erupted.  The center of my wall hanging was like Mt. Vesuvius--and from the looks of it, it was about to spew.

     My piecing skills--as usual--had failed me. While other quilters' seams are perfectly uniform and unwavering, there were probably dozens and dozens of tiny mistakes I had made...resulting in a "perfect storm" of thread and cotton fabric.

      If your draft is not working, rearrange it. If it's a story, begin at the middle or the end and go back to the beginning. Change genre. There was a memoir I wrote that sucked in prose. But when I put it in the form of a free-verse poem, it sang. Don't be afraid to change things up.

       No amount of spray starch worked. I was ready to chuck it (I was that frustrated, after working on it all weekend) or I thought, 'I'll sew a huge button in the middle, to hide the eruption,' when the workshop leader suggested I cut out one of the eyeball-looking things in the border fabric and applique it in the middle.

       I did, and it looked like I had intended it as part of the design all along. The "eye" kept the center of my cotton volcano from erupting.

       The Amish don't believe in perfection. They don't think humans are capable of anything completely perfect. So, when they make a quilt, they will make a small, deliberate mistake.

       When you screw up a piece, call it your Amish essay # ____.  When you mess up on the rhythm of a poem you're writing, tell everyone it was an on-purpose mistake.

    And then keep on writing...

No Catty Writers Allowed

photo by balkers

        In a former life, I was a quilter. Only handwork for me. While other quilters pieced used a sewing machine, I hand-pieced whenever possible. While others used a long-arm (a huge industrial-sized quilting machine) or quilted with their little Singer/Viking, I loved the process of handquilting. Machines slayed me. The meticulousness of weaving a needle--the tinier the better--in and out of layers of fabric and batting...it relaxed me. It was my form of meditation.

         Now I knit. And although I could make vests and wall hangings and occasional bed quilts in my former life, I can only make scarves as a knitter. Fat scarves. Skinny scarves. Long ones. Short ones. Even though my inability to follow a knitting pattern limits me, knitting still serves several purposes. I can make beautiful gifts for friends, and the process of knitting relaxes me.

         If you do crewel, I won't be cruel and say, "I've done that. I don't like it." If you engage in counted cross-stitch, I won't make you cross by declaring you "anal" and continue on about how nit-picky your personality must be. If you love to do crazy quilting, I won't make any snide remarks about your degree of sanity.

         If you're a writer and you're into zombies and the undead (Joe, I'm talkin' 'bout you!), I'm clueless. But I'm not going to consider your talents any lesser than mine. I have no skill in that area, but I bow down when your red carpet is rolled out and your magazine article/short story/novel is carted out. And if you write romance novels, I cannot understand how you do it, but I'm not going to cut you down because your abilities differ from mine. 

         Have you ever been put down over your area of expertise? (You don't have to name any names.) Has anyone ever looked down their nose at where your talents lie? (You don't have to identify the nasal cavity, unless you want to!)

         If you want the high falutin' version on this issue, go to Hope's blog. And if you want to talk trash about my post...keep it to yourself.  

Writing to Get Your Pen Warmed Up

          I used to be a quilter.  In fact, I've gotten hooked (pun intended) with every type of handwork from counted cross-stitch, bargello, crewel, and currently...knitting.  But years ago, I was knee-deep in fabric scraps and rotary cutters and batting.

        Your quilting fingers, just like your imagination, need to be warmed up sometimes. Gifted artists with a needle advised to have a "warm up" or "junk" project off to the side.  Before working on a project you were serious about, it was suggested to quilt a bit on a project that did not matter to you. In that way, your fingers and your needle could get into the groove and get warmed up before it really matters...

photo by interchangeable parts

        There are occasions when the words flow out in the right way the first time they are written, and little revision is needed.  Count yourself fortunate; it doesn't happen all the time. If you find yourself struggling, if you get stuck, perhaps beginning with a journal entry or writing part of a letter will stretch your writerly skills.  Then, after your hands have gotten into the groove of tapping on the keyboard or scrawling words across the page, you can transition over to the project that really matters.

photo by E.L.A.