Well, hello there. Here’s a little bit of what I’ve been up to.
I’ve been writing
Last month, I took a London Writers Salon Workshop on Crafting Personal Essays led by Lindsey Trout Hughes.1 Each of us focused on writing an essay over four weeks. We learned different writing exercises - ways to conjure and capture ideas for essays, convey details to draw in a reader, and edit and polish.
One of the goals I set for myself at the beginning of the year was to work on my writing practice, and this workshop provided a chance to dig deep and focus. I enjoyed the different exercises, especially short, intense bursts to generate ideas and intense scribbling pen on paper. There’s a nice back-and-forth between that quick work and long stretches of deep writing. Learning new creative exercises for the last month boosted my energy and helped me wrestle with putting words to a story I want to tell.2 Working in a familiar but different way of coaxing creative energy to express myself feels great.
I’ve also been reading essays. I don’t remember purposefully seeking out essays or specific essayists before, so there’s been a lot to discover. And I’ve been reading about writing essays. One idea that stuck with me is writing for pleasure. What does writing for pleasure look like? Feel like? I haven’t thought about writing for pleasure quite this intently, which is strange since the idea of making art for pleasure is so clear to me. I like this idea of writing for pleasure, showing up on the physical page for myself.
About the card3
I used a paper punch to create the flower shapes out of blue masking tape. I know, there are other ways to make a flower-shaped mask. Using the paper punch seemed straightforward in theory, but it required a lot of care to unstick the flower-shaped tape from the cutting edges. The tape masks would tear or fold onto itself, deforming the flower shapes.
Then, there is the painting, selecting hues to adjust the balance and contrast. And waiting to see how the paint would dry on the surface of the cardstock. It’s a slow process of working with the materials to express what I’d imagined and seeing how it all worked out.
The time waiting for the paint to dry let me consider my table: artists’ postcards from grad show, an address book, my Kindle tablet, a printed copy of my personal essay draft, and large smooth rocks that feel good to hold. A beanbag filled with actual beans that Mom made. The beanbag also feels good in my hand to fidget with and pinch the beans through the fabric. Liquid paper, pencil sharpeners, a stuffed Freddy Cougar mascot, hand moisturizer, lip balm, pens that have run out of ink, an erase, stapler remover, and hand sanitizer.
Looking over my list of what’s gathered on the table, I realize I’ve collected a lot of ways to provide comfort and care during four years of Zoom meetings at this table. I get a lot of comfort from working on this table, as I did when I bought it almost 20 years ago from Ikea. It’s hard to believe it’s been 20 years. Back then, I’d sit at the table, look out onto the open field through the screen door, and paint. I’d hear packs of coyotes yipping away in the distance — The coyotes and I worked late into the deep quiet of night.
I’ve been finding and scanning paintings from that time to use for my new website, and it’s given me reason to think about all the different pieces of artwork, where and who I was when I made them, what it all means, and what it all means to me.
One of my more important goals this year is to dedicate more time to my creative practice. I want to spend more time at this table, making art, sewing, and recommitting to a routine of working by hand. And, now, exploring how writing influences my other creative work. There’s something about wanting to share that signals to me how important it is to be working with my hands, about making meaning through the process. I think that’s part of what called me to explore Substack, this want to blog again. I know that motivated me to sign up for the essay workshop — I have things to make and stories to share.
An invitation
So here’s an idea I’ve been working on: Why don’t you join me?
I want to work primarily by hand, but you can do whatever creative work you want. By opening myself up to working with others, I hope to add extra accountability to build back this habit. Freddy Cougar is great, but you’d be even better company.
Read a little about the Creative Connection Sessions and, if you’d like, set up a time to work with me. I’ll be experimenting with working on different days and times to see what works best for me and for others. If you’d like to connect in this way but there aren’t any options that work for you, let me know and let’s see if we can set up something. It’d be really nice to see you!4
Take care, and thank you for reading.
P.S. If you’re enjoying my writing, you can share your support by leaving a comment (hello!), sending me a message (hello!), subscribing, or sending me a real cup of coffee. These little acts mean so, so much and provide heaps of encouragement to keep writing and sharing.
The workshop sprint (sprint because it was 4 weeks long and moved at a healthy pace) was excellent! Thank you so much, Lindsey!
I plan to submit my essay to a collection this month. If it gets published, yay! If it isn’t selected, I think I’ll share it here.
I purchased this card from Tiny and Snail. Go read about Leah and Grace and the tremendous challenges they’ve overcome. This card design encourages you to add to the front design, which I love. I don’t know if this particular card style is still available but there are plenty of other options to help you send joyful snail mail. Please support small businesses!
For now, working together virtually. But I’d like get together to work with folks locally, in real life, too. Baby steps.
Gorgeous words and art. It’s inspiring to follow your progress!
Oh I’d love to be a part of that creating club thing. How would it work?