The big alien faces in this row quilt started out as a fancy-schmancy heart block. That’s why the background is a tulip print. I don’t know when or why I decided to turn the pieced insert in the original pattern into an alien eye, but I did. The strip has been sitting in my UFO pile for years. Since I have my science fiction-themed fabric out, I am determined to turn this into a donation quilt for a youngster. I also found a small rectangle with aliens cavorting that I absolutely adore but had no idea how to use. Now I do. It’s such a joy to use my saved treasures.
I was at a writing meeting where a friend read from her essay in The Choice Matters. “Self,” I thought, “didn’t you have a story in that anthology?” When I checked the book I discovered, yes, I did submit a story, but the reason I couldn’t remember it was that I had done what many writing coaches suggest. I had taken something and repurposed it. I had written a ghost story for a contest. It didn’t win, so I figured I could play the great “what if” game – what if I kept the characters but changed something. After a few false starts, I came up with a story that fit the theme and word count. I kept the inciting incident and the protagonist’s goal, but changed the nature of the conflict. Here is proof that some writing advice does work – you really can repurpose past work. So keep writing those stories, poems, or essays. Having a body of work to adapt may be the key to your next publication.
One of my biggest problems in creating art quilts is forcing myself to use the “good” fabric on an experiment. I don’t want to take chances, but taking chances is the only way to make progress. The art piece pictured above is no exception. I made a sketch of a coastal road, knew the colors I wanted to use, and have a deadline so got started by looking in my scrap bin. To my delight and relief, I found scraps that matched my vision. I have the basic shapes of the mountains, the sea, and the sky (yes, it is a yellow sky on purpose). Next I’ll look through my bead collection for the road, the edge of the tide, and glints in the ocean. I’m not entirely satisfied that I didn’t go to my good fabric first, but if this piece is successful, perhaps that will give me the courage to cut into my treasures for the next piece.
My husband and I are creating a digital file of family papers for current and future relatives to read. It’s rewarding to save our own history, but the experience has convinced me that the grammar police are right. I am reaching the point where I don’t care whether those ancestors who put pen to paper were never taught proper grammar or felt entitled to make readers work hard to understand the content. I wish I could go back in time and shout at them, “For the love of whatever god you choose, please use proper punctuation, pay attention to paragraphs, and pare down the clauses in any given sentence!” Also, I wish to inform all current writers that unless you can properly document that you are now the queen of the universe (a job I fully intend to take for myself as soon as I can manage it), your voice is only one of many. If you want your message to get attention, make sure your writing is readable. Here ends the rant for the day.
Do any of you remember the children’s book If You Give A Mouse A Cookie? I’m living the quilters version of it. I bought this kit at a guild sale ages ago. The previous owner had cut out the gingerbread people. I could see bags of tiny buttons and shiny rick-rack. My plan, as I recall, was to use the tiny buttons and rick-rack for another project, and turn the gingerbread people into ornaments. I used one bag of tiny buttons; there are four more in the kit. I’ve never used the shiny rick-rack. The ornaments didn’t get made that year, so I put the kit in a pile. It has now worked its way to the top, and I thought I would take another look. That’s when the trouble started. The gingerbread people are supposed to have eyes made from felt, but I recalled that I have googley eyes in my embellishments stash. I found some, but they may be too small, which means I’ll be tearing apart the embellishments drawer looking for the bigger ones. There is pink felt to make a pillow, but I don’t need another pillow. I could, however, use the pink felt for backing for a series of small, fused art quilts. There is more ribbon for embellishing in the kit, and wouldn’t you know I just unearthed a pattern for potholders that could use that ribbon. The batting can always go in another project, especially some of the smaller art quilts that have been asking politely to be finished. So, there it is. One kit, for one project, has turned into five, six, maybe seven separate projects. Moral of the story – never give a quilter a kit.
I have just passed another mile marker on the road to full geezer status. Although I’ve worn glasses for decades, I now need two pair – one for living, and one for the computer. The progressive lenses I’ve been happy with for ages won’t quite let me focus when I’m at the keyboard.
Fortunately for my pride, I was sorta kinda maybe aware that this might come to pass. During one of my stints as a secretary I seriously considered writing an essay on the pain of working, specifically working at a station that isn’t set up to fit my physical needs. Although I never wrote the essay, I did take the time to make sure my writing space at home was comfortable and safe. My chair is adjusted so my posture is healthy, which means I can type without straining my wrists. Although the space around my computer is cluttered, I do have a stand for those times when I’m transcribing notes. I can read my notes without straining my neck. Getting dedicated computer glasses is just one more thing I can do to make sure I’m not putting excess stress on muscles and joints, or forcing myself to sit in a way that will damage my alignment.
So, rather than moan about aging eyes and all that, I’m passing on my experience in the hope it will encourage you to do what you need to keep healthy while you are writing. Get the separate keyboard so you can protect your wrists. Use a timer to make sure you move and stretch regularly. Get the extra pair of glasses if you need them. If a little inconvenience can keep you writing longer, it’s worth it.
Some fabrics emerged from the space-y pile that I couldn’t part with until I made something for me. I needed a new purse because my old one was threatening to disintegrate. I don’t need a new tote bag, probably won’t need a new tote bag for the rest of my life, but I like tote bags so I made one. My excuse was I used a pattern I had bought years ago and never opened. These projects are all mine (because no one else in the family has my color preferences), so now I can make donation quilts with the leftovers. This definitely counts as a win.
I was reading an article about bullae, small pieces of clay used to seal ancient documents. Bullae often served two purposes, both securing the document and summarizing its contents. When I read that, my first thought was, “Bullae are ancient subject lines!” That got me thinking about world-building, and what things I might consider too mundane to use. Those are the things that could be the most fun, after all, depending on how I adapt them. Samurai culture has been used often for futuristic societies, but what about an obscure piece from samurai armor? We have all sorts of communication devices that could be used in world-building, but a series of clicks always makes a good code, and I happen to like the look of the old device used to send messages in Morse.
Of course, whatever world we writers build will get some things wrong. Science fiction is full of hilarious examples of the writer really missing the mark on where technology, fashion, or the arts will go in the future. That’s why we should also remember the most important lessons of history – that kindness and cooperation are survival skills, and empires always crash.
When I unearthed my science/space-themed fabrics, I decided to force myself to bring out all my old projects that were even remotely science-y/space-y and work through them until the fabric pile was gone (or as gone as it will ever be – y’all know what scraps are like). This project began with the embroidered piece in the middle. It is hand-dyed wool made by the late Gail Sims. She dyed the wool with organic materials she found in her yard, and I embroidered it. I’ve had the piece for at least ten years. I told myself I was waiting for the perfect fabric to complete it, which is partially true. I was also afraid of ruining it. Forcing myself to work on the project took power away from it (it isn’t hanging over my head anymore) and gave power to me. Every seam that I didn’t take out was proof that even if I started going down the wrong path, I could correct my course. I’m hoping this is a lesson I won’t need to relearn too many times.
For the first time ever, someone asked me a question about what writers do that I could answer in the affirmative. I was asked if, as a writer, I was preserving the story of my time. “Yes,” I said, “yes, I am.” I’ve been journaling daily since the first COVID lock-down six years ago. My chronicle isn’t a complete record of important events, but it does show a snapshot of what I’m most concerned with on any given day. I’m not sure if my notebooks will ever be read, but they are there. They remind me of stories I would like to pass on (or adapt for a work-in-progress), even if they don’t contain all the details. If you are journaling regularly and sometimes wonder why you should bother, here is another reason for the Keep On Writing column. Someday, someone may ask you if you are doing what writers do.
Lani Longshore's Blog 
