Thank you, Shelby. I picked a bouquet of tulips and daffodils yesterday, on the anniversary, and avoided the red ones. My favorites in past lifetimes. I will love them again, I think. Just now they break my heart. The saturation.
I love your new newsletter/connection, Laura and so glad it will bright-side my inbox from time to time. I like the term "maker" for its inclusivity--in who does it and what they do. I made a book-spine poem this weekend and I also made a mess trying to sort through books, both were creative actions I took. Thanks for brightening my day.
Judy, thanks so much for signing up. "Maker" is one of those words I haven't sat with very long, but it felt appropriate to talk about model airplanes (and books and writing and art). I feel like the making is so essential, moreso than the "made." I love your book spine poem! I wrote two last spring and one was published in TAB Journal, much to my surprise.
I love this insight into the anticipation of doing. I often sit and look at all the books I have around me (and written down) to read and I know I'll never be able to read them all. Sometimes I wonder why I continue bringing them into the house and making the idea of reading them more urgent. Sometimes it's a source of a tremor of anxiety, but mostly it's a wonderful feeling of possibility. Somehow, I hadn't really thought that through before, so thank you.
This is just what I needed to think about after splurging on new books this weekend! I have a strange habit of buying hardcovers I'm excited to read... and then holding onto them until the paperbacks come out. Like I need those super-special safety books sitting around in case of a reading emergency. Every time it happens I feel anxious and silly, but really it's an attempt to prolong the anticipation. To enjoy them as objects first, like Andrew and his kits.
Yes! I almost didn't write that comment because something like books and reading is so not the point you were writing about, but it brings me such anticipation and joy. And I do stare at my shelves (and even dream about them) like it sounds like Andrew did with his models. I know I won't get to all of them, even if I live a long, long time. But I love having them around me, and being in a place with them lining the walls both as something to look forward to, something to look back on, and something beautiful the way.
I haven't downloaded them yet, but it was pretty contrasty on the porch, so I'm not sure if I have any winners! I have a few super cute ones of Billy for sure, though.
The making. It's so great to refocus on that. Thank you for your words of wisdom on my manuscript too. I've spent the last two or three days thinking about model airplanes, but the edits are going well overall and I can't wait to dive back in.
I hope the tulips come back for you eventually. My husband was diagnosed with cancer just as the daffodils bloomed. We eventually learned it was Non-Hodgkin's lymphoma and after six brutal months, he beat it. The next spring I found that I hated the daffodils. I hated that they made me remember. I hated how cheerful they were. It took me a few years to make peace with the flowers, but it happened.
Oh, Davida! Thank you so much for sharing your powerful story. I'm so glad your husband beat his cancer and that your appreciation for daffodils came back eventually. It's the tulips I love the most--the brightest ones--that make me look away this year. I didn't expect that and it's another small loss.
I loved "Making doesn’t feel so much like work if you’re not focused on what will happen when it’s done. In fact, it feels like play" as it's where I'm at now, too. I have a sense of urgency to move things forward, but in a way that inspires me rather than feels like a burden. Loved this piece and will share with my creative buddies :)
Linda-Marie, this pandemic year has been a creative reset for me. I still yearn for publication and appreciate the yeses, but the daily work is focused on the making. Even if it's just a few handmade cards to send to friends who could use a smile!
Thank you, Laura. I've been depressed lately, mostly about my writing, but your essay reminded to stop a moment a play. It's so good to read your words and hear your voice. I look forward to future posts.
Mary, hugs to you. I have been there, especially around my writing, and I know so many writers struggle around trying to get published and the emotional blows that can come from not being chosen. I just got (yet another) rejection a minute ago! But the making, the playing with words, has been such a balm. I hope you can find some time this weekend to write something just for fun! Maybe, when we are in these places as writers, we should drop everything else and write a limerick or really anything that's outside of our usual boxes. I have always wanted to write a limerick...
I will look at red tulips differently after reading this. Your writing makes me take a deep breath and inspires me, always. 🌷❤️
Thank you, Shelby. I picked a bouquet of tulips and daffodils yesterday, on the anniversary, and avoided the red ones. My favorites in past lifetimes. I will love them again, I think. Just now they break my heart. The saturation.
I love your new newsletter/connection, Laura and so glad it will bright-side my inbox from time to time. I like the term "maker" for its inclusivity--in who does it and what they do. I made a book-spine poem this weekend and I also made a mess trying to sort through books, both were creative actions I took. Thanks for brightening my day.
Judy, thanks so much for signing up. "Maker" is one of those words I haven't sat with very long, but it felt appropriate to talk about model airplanes (and books and writing and art). I feel like the making is so essential, moreso than the "made." I love your book spine poem! I wrote two last spring and one was published in TAB Journal, much to my surprise.
I love this insight into the anticipation of doing. I often sit and look at all the books I have around me (and written down) to read and I know I'll never be able to read them all. Sometimes I wonder why I continue bringing them into the house and making the idea of reading them more urgent. Sometimes it's a source of a tremor of anxiety, but mostly it's a wonderful feeling of possibility. Somehow, I hadn't really thought that through before, so thank you.
This is just what I needed to think about after splurging on new books this weekend! I have a strange habit of buying hardcovers I'm excited to read... and then holding onto them until the paperbacks come out. Like I need those super-special safety books sitting around in case of a reading emergency. Every time it happens I feel anxious and silly, but really it's an attempt to prolong the anticipation. To enjoy them as objects first, like Andrew and his kits.
Yes! I almost didn't write that comment because something like books and reading is so not the point you were writing about, but it brings me such anticipation and joy. And I do stare at my shelves (and even dream about them) like it sounds like Andrew did with his models. I know I won't get to all of them, even if I live a long, long time. But I love having them around me, and being in a place with them lining the walls both as something to look forward to, something to look back on, and something beautiful the way.
Love this! Love you!
Love you too! Our puppy playdate was this week's highlight.
Hope you got some good picture 💕🐕🐕💕
I haven't downloaded them yet, but it was pretty contrasty on the porch, so I'm not sure if I have any winners! I have a few super cute ones of Billy for sure, though.
Savoring the anticipation. Sitting with the possibilities.
Spirit of Playfulness.
To consider the making awaiting him.
Love all of these powerful words.
Words are some of my favorite playthings!
The making! Yes. And you are such a testament to the joy that lives beside the hard stuff of life. Keep making. (And thanks for shout out!)
The making. It's so great to refocus on that. Thank you for your words of wisdom on my manuscript too. I've spent the last two or three days thinking about model airplanes, but the edits are going well overall and I can't wait to dive back in.
I hope the tulips come back for you eventually. My husband was diagnosed with cancer just as the daffodils bloomed. We eventually learned it was Non-Hodgkin's lymphoma and after six brutal months, he beat it. The next spring I found that I hated the daffodils. I hated that they made me remember. I hated how cheerful they were. It took me a few years to make peace with the flowers, but it happened.
Oh, Davida! Thank you so much for sharing your powerful story. I'm so glad your husband beat his cancer and that your appreciation for daffodils came back eventually. It's the tulips I love the most--the brightest ones--that make me look away this year. I didn't expect that and it's another small loss.
I loved "Making doesn’t feel so much like work if you’re not focused on what will happen when it’s done. In fact, it feels like play" as it's where I'm at now, too. I have a sense of urgency to move things forward, but in a way that inspires me rather than feels like a burden. Loved this piece and will share with my creative buddies :)
Linda-Marie, this pandemic year has been a creative reset for me. I still yearn for publication and appreciate the yeses, but the daily work is focused on the making. Even if it's just a few handmade cards to send to friends who could use a smile!
Thank you, Laura. Happy to be along for the journey.
Thank you!
Thank you, Laura. I've been depressed lately, mostly about my writing, but your essay reminded to stop a moment a play. It's so good to read your words and hear your voice. I look forward to future posts.
Mary, hugs to you. I have been there, especially around my writing, and I know so many writers struggle around trying to get published and the emotional blows that can come from not being chosen. I just got (yet another) rejection a minute ago! But the making, the playing with words, has been such a balm. I hope you can find some time this weekend to write something just for fun! Maybe, when we are in these places as writers, we should drop everything else and write a limerick or really anything that's outside of our usual boxes. I have always wanted to write a limerick...