Through The Looking Glass

OK you guys. I spent the whole day cleaning and organizing my craft stuff. I have just a few more baskets to go through. I am feeling GOOD! But also crazy, because wow did I unearth a lot of abandoned projects (UnFinished Objects). I made a list and it took up both sides of a piece of paper. A small piece of paper, but still. And OK, there are a few projects that probably shouldn’t be classified as UFOs, like I have the pattern and fabric but have not cut anything out yet. But still, it’s crazy.

So I am going to try to get it under control in March. I’m not going to say anything crazy like, “I will not cast on any new knitting projects,” because that would be a lie and lying is bad. I am absolutely going to cast on at least one new knitting project. But I am going to mainly focus on finishing my hibernating knitting and even more than that on sewing projects.

Who’s with me?

Oh, you guys are going to laugh at me.

Here’s what happened: yesterday morning around 10:00 I got an email saying that there were tickets to the Kool Keith show that night waiting for me at Will Call. My friend Sara offered to come over and watch Sam, so Will and I put Sam to bed and left the house around 7:45. When we got to the El Rey the doors had just opened and there was a line and we hate waiting around at music venues, so we kept driving around on the Vespa. Ooh, hey, Tom Bergin’s! Our favorite Irish pub. We went in and had a pint. (My dietary choice to give up beer does not count in pubs. Fortunately I am not in pubs very often.) Then we headed back toward the El Rey, realized neither of us was interested in going to a show, and rode around some more. Then we went home. It was about 9:00 when we got back.

The good news is the evening cost us $12 (plus tip) in beer plus pennies in gasoline, and we both feel totally rejuvenated. If completely silly for getting a last-minute babysitter for a show we didn’t actually make it to.

The really good news is that Sara and I agree we should continue to exchange babysitting frequently, so Will and I may have many Vespa rides in our future.

This is my mom. Isn’t she pretty? I’d guess that’s around 1970. More Vintage Photos.

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(Combining this post’s title with my last post’s title gets you ‘Blanket Pants’ — anyone else think that sounds like a Slanket for your legs? Anyone else want one?)

So I had these two t-shirts I kind of hated wearing, but forced myself to because they are perfectly good shirts even if they are too light and get stained across the boobs and whine, whine, whine.

But then I remembered that The Creative Family had instructions for turning adult shirts into kids’ lounge pants. By remarkable coincidence, Sam needs lounge pants. (Well, he would if he ever wore pants. But that’s another story.) So I grabbed the book and marked the page.

Then I went to cut out the pants and couldn’t find the book anywhere. So I winged it. I already know how pants are constructed from making his bandanna pants (and come to think of it, for those I glanced at a picture and then winged it — hmmmm), so I did just fine.

The waistband on the yellow pair is all womlu, because I tried to get fancy. Oops.

Remember last spring, when I asked what blanket I should knit for my SIL’s baby? You all voted for the basketweave, but I made the pinwheel. And I, uh, just finished it. The baby (another boy!) is two months old. Oops.

I did an applied i-cord bind-off, and added a cable to give it the look of a braided edge. I hope it doesn’t seem too girly! I think it is just right.

So I had this idea for a novel last week. And I have spent every minute since trying to talk myself out of it.

Because this is what we writers do.

(I’m sure there are writers out there with confidence. I think my husband is one of them. Any others should not talk to me because I will feel inferior.)

I have never had any writing discipline. It’s very easy for successful writers (or non-writers) to say “you just have to write” or “write X words [or X hours] every day” but that just does not work for me. It never has, and it especially does not now that I have a small human who wants my attention 24/7. I write in fits and starts and I can’t get going until the story comes to me. Or no, not the story but a fragment, a moment, a little idea. The first sentence, sometimes.

Elizabeth Gilbert thinks that is normal. Go watch this video. It is about 20 minutes long and starts playing automatically (PET PEEVE) but go watch it anyway. Now. I will wait.

OK, are you back? Good. How great was the Tom Waits story? (See, you have to go watch it because there is a Tom Waits story.)

So my genius only gives me these fragments on very rare occasions.

I’m reminded, listening to Elizabeth Gilbert talk (oh man, I want to like make out with her or at least read everything she’s ever written), of something Stephen King said once. I think it was in Danse Macabre, his book about horror, but it’s been a while since I read that so I’m just going to paraphrase heavily. (Why does Command+F not work in books? WHY?) King says that talent is like a knife. We are all born with a knife. Some people have a big knife to start with, huge amounts of raw talent. Those people might sharpen their knives along the way or they might just rely on their heft. Other people are born with little pocket knives and have to hone them every day. Those people might sharpen their knives every day and turn out work that is just as good as the stuff the big knife talents turn out, but much more work. Of course, I reckon their stuff is less in need of editing.

In my opinion — if I may be totally egotistical here — I think my knife is pretty damn big, but it gets dull if I even look at an onion. And you guys, I put onions in everything. (I also take the metaphor too far.)

Ahem.

What on earth does this have to do with writing screenplays? Um, nothing, actually. Except that I have spent the past two-plus years working with a partner on these screenplays and therefore getting off scott-free in the first draft department. (Quick run-down of our writing process: massive outlining, done together; rough draft by Will; a pass by me to make it a first draft; feedback; revisions done by whoever feels like it, or both of us together.) And not only have I not had to be the one putting the first words to paper, but I have not had to write an outline on my own in, um, ever. (Actually, I have written two outlines on my own. And I abandoned both of those novels. COINCIDENCE?)

So I’ve got this idea, and if I ignore the loud voices telling me not to bother because it’s too derivative I am still stuck trying to write the outline on my own. And I keep stalling and closing the Word file with this vague idea that I will wait till I can discuss it with… oh, right. I don’t have a writing partner.

Damn it.

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