Loominus

After being inspired by my friend’s fancy circular knitting machine, I got brave and decided to take baby steps towards one by picking up a simple little pin-loom at Joanne’s a few weeks ago. So far, it’s been a fiasco. There are numerous little fussy things to pay attention to, like making sure to thread every pin, and remembering to rotate the thingy, and making the weave just tense enough, but not too tense. But the main problem for me seems lie in the removal of the weave from the loom. Despite my handling the raw weave with as much caution as if it were nuclear waste, I have still managed to mangle every single one of my pieces while trying to finish them. I’ve tried about 8 different skeins, so I can no longer blame this on cheap, flawed or inferior yarn. It’s me that’s flawed, okay? It’s me! *Sob.*

The consequences of my screw-ups are that Buddy has lots of new “cat toys," and I have begun to immerse myself in online crafting videos, which I find strangely relaxing. No one is yelling at anyone. The crafters are all inordinately calm, and exist a rarified cloud, where their only purpose is  to  methodically explain how to knit a brimmed hat or a cell phone cozy or a doll afghan. And they are all reassuringly competent. When they make an error, they don’t break out into a panic-stricken flop sweat like I do and proceed to make it even worse by over-correcting—no, they merely murmur “Oh, dearie me,” fix it up post-haste, and move on. I can never hope to even mimic their poise and grace under hat pressure, so I guess I can write off a career as a Youtube crafter. That’s fine, since my dream moniker is already taken. (Thanks, Crafty Ginger!)

A scheming little devil on my shoulder keeps telling me that I’m having trouble because the pin loom is simply too small for my lavish talents, and that if had a better, vastly more expensive tool, I’d able to crank out beautiful hipster beanies and dreamy blankets and cozy little hand warmers in a jiff. I am already mentally preparing Mr. Typist for the arrival of a circular knitting machine by constantly reminding him it’s from Germany. He had already pre-objected that it will be noisy, but the minute I told him it was from Germany, his fears were assuaged. Apparently, he maintains a deep and abiding belief in the quality of German engineering, which I plan to use fully to my advantage.

Along with my fascination with looms, I’ve always been very curious about the art of tapestry. I recently came across a video that details the history of tapestry weaving, and I was captivated. The classic method of weaving tapestry is complex, slow, painstaking, and deeply collaborative. It’s the opposite of today’s ethos in every way—it requires long-term thinking, glacial patience, teamwork, and yes, love. Tapestries take years to create and a team of experts all working at their peak of competence. They don’t get to see the results of their labor for years and years, and most remarkable of all, all of this said labor is for the sole purpose of brining beauty to the world. It’s reminiscent to me of the labor that went into creating the Book of Kells, which I saw in Ireland last year. I think that there is still a part of our collective souls that yearn for this sort of slow, complicated, detail-intense process in the service of beauty.

If you have a modicum of patience and about nine minutes, you might enjoy this video on the classic art of tapestry. I’ll be online, scheming to nab my knitter.

--Kristen McHenry

A Grand Unified Theory of Craft-Based Niceness, Also, Am I Too Stupid for Video Games?

I would like to address the video game question first. Having grown weary of the gloom, snow, and general hardscrabble-ness of Skyrim’s ancient Norway, I decided to temporarily trade it in for the gloom, snow and general hardscrabble-ness of 1850’s London when the game “Thief” recently went on sale through Steam. And boy, do I feel stupid. It took me a full hour to play through Thief’s twenty-minute tutorial. Then, I fumbled halfway through the first chapter before going back to replay the entire tutorial again, replete with a furrowed brow and an online keyboard-control guide at the ready. I’m still not fully in the swing of it. I keep accidentally shooting off water arrows when I don’t need to and getting caught doing perfectly innocent things like sneaking into a jewelry store after hours (just in case I wanted to find something nice for my lady-friend, okay? Geez. It doesn’t all have to be nefarious.) The whole venture made me wonder if age, stress, and overindulgence in processed meat products has at last made me too stupid for video games. Could it be that I have finally risen to level of my own incompetence and am now doomed to play only Bejeweled and Mahjong? I suppose it’s no matter. My general incompetence aside, “Thief” is actually a very decent game. It’s got great voice acting, beautiful visuals, and a solid story line, although you wouldn’t know it from the whiny, teeth-gnashing reviews dashed off by the die-hard classic “Thief” fans who reviled it on Steam for no good reason. I’ve decided gamers are crazy, myself included, although I still don’t think I’m fully qualified to call myself a “gamer.” Also, Mr. Typist totally Game-Mansplained me when he pointed out that the reason I got caught by the guards after-hours in the jewelry store was because I was “running around in there like a bull on crack.” Phtt. Whatever, dude. Just go back to your Minecraft and leave me alone.

That indulgence out of the way, I think I have found the key to world peace and the end of war: Crafting! I got some much-overdue and much-needed “chick time” with my dear friend Frankie last week, during which we fully nerded-out on all things crafty, including her new, gloriously-addicting Addi Express knitting machine, for which I practically ignored her in favor of during my entire visit. (Sorry, Frankie! You know I love you, but…damn…that Addi knitting machine is quite the mistress.) Frankie was very understanding, though, and let me leave with a random, round, sock-like concoction which I have no idea what to do with, but which I am inordinately proud of having made with my own two hands on her machine. Then, I came home and found a Facebook invite to a punch-rug hobby group from Frankie. And, OMG—these are the nicest, sweetest, and most supportive people I have ever encountered. I don’t know what their political affiliation is, nor do I care (having no absolutely no political affiliation of my own anymore anyway), and I don’t care about their world view or who they voted for. I just know that they are all great fans of the delicate art of punch-rug making, and super-supportive. Every photo of a work-in-progress gets hundreds of likes, and all anyone wants to talk about is the intricacies of yarn and cloth and needle calibration. It’s glorious. It makes me think that if people could only strive to bond over shared joys rather than shared grievances, the world would become a better place very quickly. So please, everyone—reach out to those who share your hobbyist joys, and let that be your guide to friendship, bonding, and the oncoming of world peace. 

--Kristen McHenry

Craft Bender, Novel Update, Free Rug!

This weekend I got on my craft grind again, with ambiguous success. I don’t know if you heard, but there was a recent election in the U.S, and due to the distraction, I didn’t tell ya’ll about my port pillow achievement of a few weeks ago, wherein I sewed a tiny little simple square pillow out of cotton flannel:

Port pillows are for cancer patients who have had a port inserted into their chest for chemotherapy drug delivery, thus helping to avoid multiple needle sticks. The pillow goes over the port to protect the tender area from the pressure of seat belts, purse straps, etc. I was very proud of my port pillow, even though it took me two and half hours to make. I got ambitious over this long weekend and decided I would crank out five or six more, but it all sort of fell apart. I’m still not very adept with my machine, and my thread got snarled on the spool and my needle got un-threaded and I couldn’t get it re-threaded, and I got frustrated and had a little temper fit and quit in a huff. But I still wanted to sew, so I decided to suck it up and hand-sew the edging onto my peacock rug, which is now officially finished:

Then, flush with the triumph of actually completing something, I decided to start a new rug. I picked an owl-themed rug, because making something with an owl motif is mandatory for all crafters, and I figured I might as well get it over with. I hand-drew the design from a mishmash of different patterns I found online, and got an okay start on it last night. Here’s the back side of the rug:

And, finally, I started the rewrite of the first section of my novel. I carefully re-read the feedback I got from the potential publisher and tried to address the issues she had with it. I’m a little ambiguous about the new version, but I will admit that what it lacks in raw energy it makes up for in clarity and smoothness. We’ll see.  

In all of this doing, I did find a little time to read, and thus finished a Dave Eggers novel that I’ll review here soon, and started a new one called “A Man Named Ove”, which I hadn’t heard of until I saw that the movie of the same title was playing at my local theater. I’m only a chapter or two in, but already, Ove is my hero. I loved him immediately, and can only hope that I too, might one day have it in me to create such an obnoxious crank of a character. The main character in my novel is plenty obnoxious in her own way, but she has absolutely nothing on Ove. Ove is a true classic. Ove is marvelously, willfully cantankerous, stubborn beyond belief, and someone who most rational people would want to immediately smack upside the head upon meeting. I can’t wait to get to back to this book so I can enjoy more scenes of Ove tormenting Apple store employees and antagonizing hospital staff.

And, exciting news: I am giving away my peacock rug! It doesn’t fit in with the Typist's apartment “color palette” and I don’t really have anywhere to put it. So if you want it, comment here, or e-mail me if you have my e-mail address, and it shall be yours to enjoy! It’s just sitting in my closet right now, and I’d rather that it get some use.

--Kristen McHenry

Sewing Lessons, Deep Thoughts on Deep Wounds, A Halloween Funny

I had another sewing lesson last weekend, and this time, under the eagle eye of my tutor, I made a skirt! I was too intimidated by the machine after the first lesson to actually practice properly (read: at all), so a big part of this lesson involved re-learning some of the basics and getting used to the machine again. However, this time around I shan’t be deterred! I am going to practice, practice, practice, because I have discovered a perfect, low-stakes project I can work on: Port pillows! These are small pillows that are designed for chemo patients who have had ports inserted into their chest for receiving chemo drugs. The pillows help protect the often tender area around the port when the patient is, for example, using a seatbelt or carrying a bag with a strap. They’re simple, they inexpensive to make so it doesn’t matter if I screw a bunch of them up at first, and I can donate them to the cancer treatment center at the hospital I work at. A win-win all around! Now I just have to face going to my local Joanne’s for fabric and batting. The last time I was in there, I waited in line for twenty-five minutes.

I was thinking deep thoughts the other day about the parallels between writing and sewing. Sewing puts me into a flow state. I’m concentrating, but it’s a kind of effortless and calming concentration that makes me feel refreshed and energized afterwards. Ideally, when I write, I’ll get into that same state, although far more often than not than not, writing is more akin to dragging a boulder uphill mentally. At any rate, both activities seem stimulate a part of my brain that enjoys precision and meticulousness. Then I started thinking about why I was so averse to sewing to begin with, and I realized that it’s because it was never presented to me as a joyous, creative activity. My memories of sewing in school was that it was a big, scary “gotcha”; yet another thing that I was inevitably going to do wrong and screw up. There was no sense of play or fun about it; it was just another dreary chore that I was going be chastised for not doing right. Every time I had to go near a machine, I got very anxious and stressed.

I was surprised at how excited and proud I was when I sewed that tote bag last month. And I had similar feelings of euphoria last week upon finishing the skirt. There is some deep, core emotional stuff being stirred up in me by this sewing journey. I think it’s healing a wound that has been with me for a long time, and I suspect that wound is about a lot more than a few crabby Home Ec teachers. I’m not sure what caused the wound or even what its exact nature is; I just know that something in me I didn’t even know was there is yearning to be healed, and the sewing seems to be the catalyst for it. I think that all artists are wounded early and often in childhood around their artistic gifts, and maybe that’s a part of this for me, a deep need to feel empowered creatively, to feel competent and confident. Or maybe it’s something more simple and primal: A yearning for the pleasures of traditional feminine domesticity, which I have always been very disconnected from. Whatever its nature, it’s formidable.

To end things on a cheerier note, since it’s Halloween, here’s a video I always get a chuckle out of:

--Kristen McHenry

The Sweet High of Crafty Success

I’m almost too excited to write a blog post right now, because I am riding the sweet high of crafty success. Today, my friends, I sewed. And not just timid little practice stitches on throw-away fabric…I sewed an entire canvas bag! This makes me incredibly happy and proud. And it’s all thanks to my friend Frankie, who offered me sewing lessons after reading last week’s blog post. I brought my machine over to her house today for Lesson 1. I figured she’d maybe show me a few things, then we’d spend most of the time chatting and faffing about like we usually do, but no. That woman was organized. She had a lesson plan, fabric at the ready, and a project all laid out for me. We got right to work, and under her laser-eyed tutelage and patient coaching, within a few hours I had completed a canvas tote bag! It was incredibly gratifying. Learning something new boosted my mood, and in spite of being intimidated by the machine, I found the act of sewing itself to be very meditative. It felt good to concentrate and work with my hands, and it felt even better to have a finished product at the end of my labor. I’ve griped about this plenty before, but I can spend an entire afternoon writing and come away feeling like I have nothing to show for it. With crafting, at least I can see the physical results of my labor—even if those physical results are the world’s jenkiest tote bag:

Oh, and guess what? Frankie said she could tell that when I get practiced at this, I am going to be a “meticulous seamstress.” Me, meticulous! Wee! Sorry. I’ll calm down in a bit, but right now I’m just really excited and want to sew all of the things.

I know I always complain about how I don't like music, but I went down a gospel choir You-tube rabbit hole recently thanks to a link on Frankly Curious's website, and now I really want to be in a gospel choir. The only barrier I see to this is that I can't sing…or dance, or really even sway convincingly. But I thought maybe I could just be way in the back and sort of mouth the words and hide behind the billowing gowns. I'm sure no one would notice an incredibly awkward 5’ 9”, bone-white redhead jerky-dancing on the risers and pretending to lip synch. Seriously though, once I get sewing mastered, I might actually consider singing lessons. I’ve always wanted to be able to sing, but I’m too terrified, and learning to sing in front of a teacher just seems too intimate and vulnerable. One new craft a time, Ms. Typist. You’re barely off your first tote bag.

I don’t have any fascinating Buddy stories from the week or much of note to talk about on the writing front (although I will say that I’ve been reading a thick tome of Wallace Steven’s poetry over the last few weeks, and while I find some of it inscrutable, I’m now officially in love with his work.) So I will leave you with this video of the Georgia Mass Choir singing “Bye and Bye”:

--Kristen McHenry

Writers Love Misery, Rug Update, Cat Cartoon

I met today with my writing “group”—we are now pretty much a group of two—and we were commiserating about how hard writing is. She said it’s like having homework as a hobby. Spot on, my friend. It’s lonely, complicated labor, and there is little pleasure to be derived from it most of the time. It’s not glamorous or flashy, and none of your friends are interested in your work until you actually get published, and sometimes not even then. Which is why I have come to appreciate my little rug-making hobby so much. I can see the progress of my work in real time. I know there will be a real thing created that will bring a bit of whimsical happiness to the recipient. I’m working with my hands in a way that I find meditative and relaxing. Writing is hair-pullingly frustrating, and no one has the slightest empathy for your struggle. Why should they? You have elected, entirely of your own accord, to create some imaginary world that exists only in your head. It’s incredible to me that I choose to spend most of my free time engaged in such an activity. Which leads me to an explanation of why this week’s blog post is going to be a short one—I’m feeling a bit burnt out, and I just want to work on my rug while watching mindless TV. So that is what I shall do. Here’s the progress of my rug so far:

And here is video of a cartoon cat:

--Kristen McHenry

Tomb Raider Tragedy, Foxy Pillow, Infinite Jest

I was going to post my review of the new Tomb Raider game this week, but a calamity befell me in the form of a raging cold that took me out of work for two days—two days during which ironically, I was too sick to game. What with one thing and another, I haven’t been able to get back to the game for a full week, so I haven’t played enough to write a proper review. Soon, though. My fingers are itching for some quality time with Lara Croft!

My fingers have also been itching to finish my new throw pillow:

I’ve completed the pattern; now I just have to face the boring technical sewing part. I’m really happy with how it looks, but I have limited space in my apartment for throw pillows, so if you want this one, just say the word and I’ll mail it to you. Bam, a free foxy pillow! All you have to do is ask.

In a moment of weakness while I was too sick to do anything but lie on the couch, I pulled the trigger and downloaded “Infinite Jest” on my tablet. I managed to read a few chapters, but have barely put a dent in the 1,000-page opus. As discussed in a previous post, I usually avoid Big Important Books, especially ones that are described as “sprawling”. Infinite Jest is definitely sprawling. Maybe it’s because I read it in a Theraflu haze, but I have no bloody idea what is going on with the plot. However, there is a strange genius to it.  Once I got past the odd narrative style and let go of trying to make any sense out of it, I found myself enjoying the crazy.

This will be a short post this week since I blew most of my day formatting a query e-mail to an agent. I sent two queries today, in an attempt to toughen myself up and stop being so emotional about the process. (So far it hasn’t worked, but I expect my query-sending callouses to build up soon.) To tide you over, here’s a very silly vampire sketch from Key and Peele. Warning to the sensitive: It contains swears and sexy stuff.

--Kristen McHenry

I Have a Hobby, Poetry Redux, Mirror of Evil

Cue triumphant horns! At the ripe old age of 45, I have at last discovered a craft that I that I can actually do! A proper, useful craft that I have not given up on in a fit of frustrated rage, like when I tried crochet and candle making and pretty much every other craft ever. What is this miracle I have stumbled upon? ‘Tis rug making, my friends! And it’s so absurdly easy that even my clumsy ham-hands are capable of it. It’s not latch hook; it’s done with something called a punch needle. You stretch your material onto a frame, sketch out a design, thread the needle, and punch it through the material. It’s that simple. I was so excited when my friend showed me how to do it last week that we promptly made a date to go to a craft store so she could help me pick out the materials to do my own rug. I started my first rug last week. It’s my practice rug before I move on to a more complex pattern I want to do—a koi fish to match the koi panels we have in our living room. I fumbled around a little at first, but since my friend is also learning, we shared our tips and triumphs via text and got through it together.

Even though the rug-making easy, it still takes patience and persistence, and I like that. It feels symbolic. Also, now that the novel is out to its first readers and I’m awaiting critique before I do anymore work on it, it’s nice to have something to focus on that involves working with my hands and thinking in a visually creative way. I think it’s good for us writers to take a break sometimes and do something different. I used to paint in between writing projects, and although I don’t have any science to back this up, I have an intuitive sense that it was helpful to the writing process to switch gears and engage another part of my brain. I have a lot of ideas for rugs I want to make, and having ideas for projects make me a happy lady! Below are some pics of what I’ve done so far. I have to go in and fix some errors in the first swirly part, but overall I’m happy with the way it’s turning out.

Framed monk's cloth

The first go at it 

Progress

The first swirl is complete!

I dove into my poetry past this week while looking for material for an upcoming poetry reading, and I have a feeling that three short stories and a novel later, I may be returning to poetry again soon. We’ll see. With a little break and the rug-making, maybe something new will form for me creatively; like an idea for a new series. But I don’t feel blocked or panicked like I did during the time just before I transitioned into writing fiction. I feel like something will open up again soon; it’s just a matter of timing.  

In other news, my hair is turning gray. I didn’t notice until I went into a bathroom at work I’d never been in before. It was as though the light over the mirror in there was specifically designed to illuminate every gray hair on my head, like that stuff they spray on the walls to find blood splatters. I was completely shocked. I can’t see it in my mirror at home unless I really look, and even then, I can’t see that much. It’s been graying all along and I never knew! Having just had a birthday, I went into a decidedly unfeminist downward spiral about aging, losing my looks and becoming one of those irrelevant, “invisible” women that society ignores because I am no longer viable breeding material. That shit is real, and it doesn’t matter what sort of feminist pep talk I give myself, it still stings. But, as the ever-practical Mr. Typist pointed out, that’s what hair dye is for. (Also he wisely suggested I not go into that bathroom ever again.) Now I have to start making hair decisions. Do I commit to the time and expense of  a salon foil every four months, or just let nature take its course? Do I throw a box on it? Go full punk and dye it purple? Shave it off and start wearing wigs? There are too many questions with too many implications. The hell with this. I’m off to punch a rug!

--Kristen McHenry