Every week, I tell Zoe, “I have no idea what I’m going to write for my newsletter.”
They respond, “You’ll figure something out—you always do.”
Well, folks, here’s what a newsletter looks like when it’s down to the wire, I’m sitting down to write, and still, I have no idea what to say.
Part of the problem, I think, is the onset of my Gloomy Weather Crazies (could be seasonal affective disorder, could be a trauma response from the ghost of autumns past, could be something else entirely).
Last fall and winter, I had a burst of near-manic creativity: wrote tons of poetry, worked on our wedding quilt with Zoe, made several collages, got super into watercolor, started knitting a temperature blanket, and introduced the first version of my newsletter.
Some of that, I’m pleased to report, Went Somewhere. After all, we got married on the damn quilt!
But a lot of my creative practice, after that explosion of energy, petered out quickly.
My fear is that this year will be no different: creative energy, followed by a deep depression. I think that’s why I spent a lot of time in the warmer, brighter months thinking critically about my creative practice. Zoe and I worked through The Artist’s Way together, and in my formal mentorship meetings with Qwo-Li Driskill during my Transchool term, I asked them for as much advice as I could on maintaining a healthy relationship with writing. I don’t always write my morning pages, but I do my best to follow the advice both Julia Cameron and Qwo-Li gave me: write a little bit in a journal every day.
And I’ve looked for ways to structure my creative practice, too. Zoe’s brain-child, Craft Club, has been a great success so far. It is such a joy to gather with friends once a month for food, conversation, and art. People have quilted, crocheted, drawn, painted, folded origami, made zines, and made friendship bracelets. What a range of crafts! Especially if you include all the delicious baked goods people made.
I try to plan what I’d like to work on in each month’s Craft Club session, then figure out what I have to get done to be able to do so. In September, I cut fabric for my quilt top. On this past Saturday, I worked on a couple of zines for Zinetober. The goal is one zine a day for October; so far, I’ve made three.
Having the structure of prompts and the simple goal of a zine a day is helpful, even if I don’t achieve that goal in the October timeline.
I put artistic goals like my daily zines, weekly newsletters, and morning pages on my monthly calendar, which sits on the table behind my desk in the office/craft room. I wonder, sometimes, if it would be better to avoid checklists altogether—I find myself so often plagued with anxiety and dread about goals with long checklists—but they have their time and place.
My quilting, for example, isn’t a practice with goals or task lists. That’s why it’s the perfect activity for long winter days, weeks, months: I can sit and sew at my own pace, knowing the quilt will be done when I’m done with it.
That being said, my anxiety doesn’t negate my ambition. I have a lot of larger goals, which means I have to spend time developing thoughtful plans to reach them. A novel and a book of poetry, yes, but that falls under the even larger goal of Making A Name For Myself as a writer, which also encompasses—requires—accomplishing smaller goals, like writing and submitting short stories and individual poems to publications. And there are other life goals, like having a child and buying a home. So much to do! So much to think about!
And that, of course, is where the frantic winter crafting comes from: my anxiety about moving too slowly, which is impossible not to do when you’re holed up in your apartment to avoid snow.
I have always thought that if I throw enough time, energy, and wanting at a goal, I will be able to achieve it exactly when I want it. The folly of youth? Perhaps. Certainly, I’m learning that—for a variety of reasons—I am not able to achieve my concept of “enough” time or “enough” energy. And, frankly, I’m tired. Fucking exhausted. I just can’t move as quickly as I used to.
As summer turned to fall, with winter chasing its heels, I had to have many difficult conversations with Zoe and with myself about what, really, I want—in my career, in my creative practice, in my life. Finally, I feel closer to knowing, but it’s been difficult to resist the feeling of impatience. I aimlessly scroll Zillow and LinkedIn, looking at houses and jobs in a city I might move to years from now. I try to start writing the novel before the outlining is done. I worry that I’m not making enough art, or that I’m not making art quickly enough.
Enough, enough, enough. That pesky word! I would love to remove it from my vocabulary.
Alas, I can’t delete words from my brain or the dictionary, so instead, I’m trying to heal my relationship to the word. Trying to think about what it means for me to be good enough. For my creative practice to be good enough. For my relationship to be good enough. For my sewing skills to be good enough.
Because I have enough. I have so much for which I’m grateful and, on good days, content. I will get to where I want to go, and it will take as long as it takes. It will take long enough.
You’ll notice I’ve been skipping my Ephemera section lately. I hope to return to it soon, but the news has been far too difficult to consume, let alone comment on. As always, I recommend listening to Up First.
I get a burst of joy and excitement when I look over at my stack of unread books to work my way through this winter. The question is, which ones will I read alone and which ones will I read aloud to Zoe?
The colder months, for us, mean less fizzy water and more tea. I’m always looking for recommendations, so if there’s a type of tea you enjoy, please let me know! Personally, I drink a lot of green teas with fruit, as well as peppermint herbal tea when I’m under the weather, but I’m willing to be a bit more adventurous.
I want to share a Marmalade photo that I believe is an instant classic:
Image Description: A blurry photo of Marmalade, taken with the camera directly in front of her nose. Her ears are relaxed and her eyes are huge and—dare I say it?—smoochie. Look at that nose! Those eyes! The perfect amount of blur! I love it—and I love all of you, as always, for reading.
