Act Your Age, Part 1

Unfortunately, acting my age (which I am trying to write about) means that I can wear myself out rather thoroughly.

We spent two weeks on the road, a lot of it under the stress of the family loss I reported last week. We attended the Licensing Expo, which was overwhelming and which I am still trying to process. We drove more than 2,000 miles. We ate irregularly, though occasionally very well. We slept in strange beds and on a different schedule than we do at home.

All that added up to an old-person crash when we got home. We got back a couple days ago, and the minute we walked in we both cratered. Somehow, even when we thought we were eating and sleeping well enough, exhaustion was hiding behind the curtain of "I'm doing fine."

The most annoying part of this is that we could have pulled this off without paying the price twenty years ago. Even in our 40s and 50s we'd have been back up and running full steam the next day. However, while we thought we were doing well all the way home - "The drive has been pretty easy today," and "The hotel bed was really comfy last night," "That was a nice lunch," and "It's only been two weeks" - there was a 'gotcha!' at the end.

The bags are unpacked, laundry is washing, the cat has kind of forgiven us for abandoning her to the pampering of a house-sitter who spoiled her every day, and I am back at the computer. 

But the post I was working on when I left, reflecting on what it means to "Act your age," inspired by hitting one of those milestone birthdays (not a 0 birthday, a 5) hasn't cooperated by writing itself. So it will be along in another day or two.

In the meantime, I may need a nap.

Travel Woes

Well, I thought I would be able to have a really cool post this week from the Licensing Expo we attended. My travel computer thought otherwise, and was refusing to talk to my keyboard. I appreciate all of you, but I couldn't compose a complete post by pecking at the on-screen keyboard. That, at least, is fixed.

But this week got a lot more complicated. My father-in-law took a turn for the worse and landed in the hospital. He was released on Thursday but had to go to a care facility, where he passed away in the early hours of Father's Day, Needless to say, we have been a bit distracted, and our travel plans were thrown into chaos. It appears we will be going home for now (there will be no funeral, per his wishes) and making a trip back to see the family a bit later in the year.

In the 39 years I have been a part of this family Jim made me feel loved and accepted from Day One; I know that is not always the way with in-laws, and I have been forever grateful for this wonderful man

For now I would like to share with you a tribute Steve posted this morning:

My dad, Jim York passed away last night after a long fight with dementia, the fight you can't (yet) win.

Dad was a flying man. He was a flight engineer in the Air Force in Korea, and flew psyops missions behind enemy lines to drop leaflets and occasional parachuting spies.

He returned to the US and finished his service crewing a test B-29 that flew over bombing ranges testing fuel tanks, by lowering (full) self-sealing fuel tanks out of the bomb bay on an arm, shooting them with their own machine guns, and seeing if they caught on fire. If they did, they were then supposed to put the fire out, haul them back into the bomb bay, and bring them back for study. If they couldnt, they COULD drop them on the range, but it was "discouraged."

He was a trained aircraft mechanic and worked as a civilian fixing all manner of planes and helicopters, often as a contractor for the army.

He eventually got a job with #BellHelicopter as a Field Service Representative, meaning he flew all over the world advising customers on using and maintaining their helicopters.

He rubbed elbows with billionaires. He delivered a helicopter to one in Germany who paid the balance owed to Bell with a suitcase of cash. And he was entertained by another on his private island off Australia.

But he also lived embedded with combat pilots, and in Vietnam he stayed in a quonset hut where he had a bed made out of sandbags and runway plating, so he could roll under it for protection during mortar attacks.

He was fired at while trying to sneak past the coast of Honduras while showing off a new helicopter in South America. He investigated crashes, flew with Air America, the CIA's private airline, survived hurricanes, flew to offshore oil rigs, and saw empires fall. He barely escaped the fall of Teheran in a tale that is very similar to the movie "Argo."

He wasn't a trained engineer, but he was a self taught one. When Bell had a vibration problem with their new 222 helicopter they couldn't fix, dad was the one they called back to the factory to fix it.

He finished his time til retirement with Bell working mostly state-side, civilian contracts, which were a LITTLE less exciting. But dad was at heart a plain talking farm boy, utterly unimpressed with wealth or celebrity. He could drink with the best of them and with his county-boy manner often served as a brand ambassador with the rich and famous.

This is Jim in his natural habitat: next to an airplane. (Or in it!)

He once sat next to Emilio Estevez on a cross country airline flight. It was Estevez who geeked out over dad as he was fascinated with helicopters. They had a good time talking, and Estevez invited him to watch the Lakers play from his box seat and meet his then girlfriend and Laker Girl, Paula Abdul. Dad turned him down. He didn't care about sports, and just wanted to get home. He had no idea Estevez was a famous actor until my mom figured it out the next day.

The 222 was kind of dad's personal helicopter model, and he flew around to show it off to potential customers. When it was chosen to play the titular super-helicopter on the TV show, #Airwolf, dad was sent to the set to offer advice. He wasn't impressed with the fake guns and rockets they put on his sleek, beautiful helicopter, but he liked to watch the show I guess.

Dad wasn't a braggart, and while he could tell a great story over a business lunch, we, his family, didn't hear a lot of these things until much later. He didn't want to scare mom. Ironically, it was my wife, Christina York, who heard a lot of them (especially the Teheran story) when they bonded over morning coffee. I'm sure there are many others we'll just never hear about.

Dad is gone now. I imagine at the end, an aircraft would have arrived to take him off to the great beyond. I thought it might have been his own plane, an F-24 Fairchild that he crash landed upside down in a farmer's field when a defective connecting rod snapped just after takeoff. (He and a passenger walked away unharmed.) Or maybe his beloved 222. Or...

It's Airwolf. It will come in and land, Jan Michael Vincent and Ernest Borgnine at the controls (Dad won't be impressed). He'll climb in, and they'll take off.

They'll offer him a thermos of good coffee. He'll complain about all the fake Hollywood stuff, and they'll say, "Nah, it's all real now. Want to go supersonic?"

He'll say, "well, I just might. Can I fly?"

"Sure."

He'll take the controls, push that special button on the stick, and jet flames will shoot out the back.

Cue that theme music...

https://youtu.be/BdLtcSk8tfE

Steve added this later: The trouble with telling old stories is that sometimes the details get confused. I got an important one twisted. Wrong brother. It was Charlie Sheen, not Emilio Estevez. Sheen had just been in "Platoon" (which dad had never heard of) and had developed his enthusiasm for helicopters there. In reflection I think I confligrated Paula Abdul myself. I stand corrected.

Out In The World

Which is why this week's post is late. I am traveling, with lots going on.

I am working on an introspective post, brought on by my latest birthday. Lots to talk about.

In the meantime, here are a few pics from the road.

Mt. Shasta was gorgeous, and there was a lot morre snow than we've seen recently.

Do I know how to party? Costco stop along the way!

He's a university professor. She's a server, and a student at his school. Guess who won the tic-tac-toe event at Olive Garden? (Hint: Loser-boy had to tip Very Well.) Our server was amazing, and really personable. Good job, Allie!

Stunning rainbow in the desert. It was actually a double rainbow, though it proved impossible to photograph from a moving car. Still a real beauty!


Taking Control

Have you ever had one of those moments when you realize that the universe is trying to tell you something? That you have been seeing the same message and not letting it sink in?

Well, after last week's post - about self care, coping mechanisms, and controlling anxiety - you would think I could have figured out what was going on inside my head.

But, no! That whole "cast out the mote" thing went right over my head. Oh sure, I was able to see the value of what Max said in her blog, and to pass that wisdom along to you in the hopes of helping you gain strength and peace from your creative activities.

Did I personally take in that wisdom though? Hardly!

So the universe had to find a bigger clue-by-four to apply upside my head, and it came in the form of another column from Modern Daily Knitting. This one is from Franklin Habit in his Letter From Paris, that touches on some of the same themes Max Daniels talked about last week.

Habit comes at the topic from a different direction - that doing something he feels in control of, tangible evidence of competence in at least one aspect of his life provides a sense of comfort and progress in an otherwise chaotic and seemingly unproductive period.

This time I think the message started to sink in.

We had a tough winter. The weather was gloomy, wet and dark, and we spent many months cooped up in our little house with the walls closing in. There were family (and extended family) issues, there were health scares. Lots of little and not-so-little problems piled up and we felt trapped with no escape. In short we, I, felt unable to control my life and there didn't appear to be an escape insight.

Winter was dismal-not nearly as sunny and beautiful as this day last spring-but it truly felt like we were at the end of our rope, and the pavement was indeed ending.

I had trouble writing, a reliable outlet for the last several years. I wrote through both my parents' final days, through massive health crises for both my spouse and me, through a series of upheavals, and through the chaos of my aborted attempts to retire.

But I struggled to get even a few words on the page, and my characters refused to come out and play. Ideas that seemed so exciting fell apart the minute I sat down at the computer.

Which is when I picked up my knitting needles and my beads once again. Something familiar, something I had control over, something soothing and repetitive that kept my hands busy, something that produced a tangible result..

To many this looks like chaos. But to me it's a place I feel comfortable and in control. It's a familiar, soothing process.

This renewed interest has been going on for several weeks - enough that I am working, as I said, on a sales site for my output - and it only just got through to me that I have been looking for a sense of control, for the soothing of familiarity and repetition, as a relief from the constant stress of the last few months.

In the past, when I had a real-world job, there was the repetition and familiarity and the structure of the job to provide some of that feeling of control. Especially when I had done the same job for 20 years and I knew I was good at it. No matter what else was going on I had the comfort of knowing there was a place where I was in control and I produced tangible results.

These are some of the tangible results of the last few weeks. They are some of the things that have provided me comfort and a feeling of accomplishment.

Retirement took away that piece, and the pandemic shattered whatever comfort I thought I had to replace it. Only now, after more than three years of clinging with all our might to any tiny crumb of stability, have I begun to recognize how out of control I have felt, and to acknowledge how much it cost.

So today I am listening to the universe and allowing myself the freedom to do those things that provide comfort and joy. And if the universe is sending you the same message, I give you permission (if you need it) to listen and to hear - and to bring joy and creativity into your life in whatever way you can.





Self-Care

Over the nearly three years I have been writing these posts the world around us has done its best to ratchet up our anxiety, apprehension, depression, and fear. We have survived (so far) a pandemic the likes of which we had not seen in our lifetime, and we are each in our own way still battling the consequences of that pandemic.

We have developed some coping mechanisms - not all of them good - but I hope that for you (as it has been for me) your creative life has provided some respite and reassurance on those days when it felt like the world was coming apart at the seams; an escape from the fear and loss that surrounded us and at times threatened to overwhelm even the most optimistic of us. (that's me, by the way. I am a Pollyanna who believes I have led a pretty charmed life.)

This week's recommended reading comes from Max Daniels, who I have referenced before. A life-coach , Ms. Daniels is a regular contributor to Modern Daily Knitting, a page I follow mostly to drool over the gorgeous yarns and patterns that are truly out of my budget - but it costs nothing to look!

In today's column she talks about knitting as self-care; as a way to combat anxiety and soothe a restless brain, and the scientific basis for that conclusion.

It's an interesting notion, and one that we can all appreciate as we negotiate the anxiety-inducing roller coaster that is modern life. While you may not choose to take up knitting as a way to quiet some of the monsters under the bed, the information she shares may offer you a springboard for finding a way to apply the self-care aspects to your own creative life.

And if knitting appeals to you - let's talk!

What Next?

My apologies for being absent last week. Steve and I both caught a nasty cold and after three years of avoiding bugs our bodies had forgotten how to deal with them. So for the last couple weeks we’ve subsisted on Tylenol, poor sleep, cough drops, a ton of tissues, and negative Covid tests. We both seem to be on the road to recovery now, fortunately.

In the spirit of trying new things, I am starting an online sales venture with a couple friends. Probably because I am completely deranged.

Since getting back to my beading during the nasty weather this winter I have completed many projects, and I realized I wanted to do something with those finished items. At the same time I had a couple friends who were in pretty much the same spot.

Never, ever let a trio of retired women with time on their hands get together and

Start plotting. When you do, you’re likely to get something crazy. Maybe it’s good crazy, but it’s gonna be crazy.

What we have decided to do is to try and set up a sales site for our handmade items. You’ve seen some of what I do; I post pictures here from time to time, and I talked at length about my creations earlier this year. It was my lost love that I rediscovered a few months ago.

Now, it seems like this shouldn’t be that big a deal. It’s just a couple friends getting together to try and boost each other and share the work of running a little sales site online. And if we use an existing platform like Etsy it should be pretty easy, right?

Well, we have already run into a pile of questions we need to answer, and I find that many of them reflect issues we have talked about here. Issues of control and responsibility, of handling the business details and keeping financial records, of planning for the possibility of failure or success.

That last one is something I need to come back to in a new essay, because there are huge pitfalls that await the successful creative endeavor, pitfalls that we need to think about and plan for. But that is a topic for another day (makes note on her list of “Topics to talk about”).

For now I wanted to touch on the subject of just what is involved in selling your creations, and how much work is actually involved, especially if you decide to partner with another creator.

First, the old adage of a partnership being two people working together with each person doing 90% of the work is absolutely true. At least from the viewpoint of each partner. Teaming up can reduce the workload, but it also adds other tasks that can greatly reduce the time savings you expect.

Two, it takes a lot of communication. A lot. And if you don’t allow time for discussion between partners in the beginning you will be taking a lot more time down the road to settle issues that should have been agreed upon at the start.

Three, it is going to take a lot longer to get up and running than you ever expect. These things always take more time that you think, and when you add another person to the process, another voice that needs to be heard, another opinion that must be factored into every decision, and someone you have to depend on to complete their part of the process – well, that’s going to take time.

Right now we are still working on getting all our expectations and responsibilities settled. We are meeting and talking through what we expect from each other, and what each of us is prepared to do in order to move the project forward.

What we have found so far is that the creating is the easy part, the fun part, the part we all want to do and are doing. We are each happily producing the things we want to create, which is great. Honestly, that’s what we are all about here in the Tsunami Zone.

But if we want to take this past the creating stage to the selling stage there is work that has to be done.

You will notice that I used the work “work.” That was very purposeful.

Normally I avoid that word in this space as much as possible, particularly when referring to our creative output. I never want to apply work, or should, or have to, to my creative endeavors – which sometimes leads to sitting with my head in my hands trying to recast a sentence to avoid those words – but those are concepts I don’t want to apply to the things I do because I want to create.

I may feel like I need to create, I want to create, but I don’t ever want to feel that I should create because of some arbitrary rule. Isn’t that why we are retired, so we don’t have to listen to someone else’s shoulds?

But in this instance, when we face outward toward the commercial world, there are shoulds, and musts, and have tos, and I am going to share this outward-facing journey with you in the hopes that it might help you in determining whether you want to embark on a similar path.

[I do recognize that most of my little band of followers here are writers, and a discussion of craft sales may not apply. But I also know that many of you are also polymaths, and may have other creative projects that could fall within this discussion. Don’t worry, this isn’t going to take over the feed. Updates will likely be only occasional, I promise.)


Putting the PRO in Procrastination

I wish I could take credit for that wonderful turn of phrase, but it isn’t mine. I don’t know when I first heard it, but I certainly (as they say) felt seen. I would imagine most of us can relate to the feeling at one time or another.

The most recent sighting was from YouTuber Laura Kampf, who I have mentioned here before. She takes on projects both large and small, and this recent video was creating a small project as a way to avoid the massive project – renovating a house from the turn of the previouscentury.

Her big house project (she also did a tiny house over the winter so she had a place to live) stalled in the fall due to weather, with plans to resume when the weather improved. Which was all reasonable. She couldn’t continue the work on the big house in freezing rain; not in a building still missing some walls.

Instead she turned to smaller projects, like her tiny house. But when it came time to re-start the big house she hesitated. The size and scope of the undertaking overwhelmed her, and she found herself procrastinating by doing things like making the sandwich toaster station she created in this video.

In the video she talks about the feeling of being overwhelmed by a project that feels so big and important, with so many critical pieces, that she struggles to resume work.

(Spoiler alert: she does get back to the big house, and there is already at least one sequel video showing her working on her new windows, so there is a happy ending.)

Watching her work through this made me realize that this is a common problem for creatives. It is so easy to let other things intrude on our creative time. “Hey, I really need to fold this laundry.” “I’m hungry, so I’ll go find a snack.” “I want another cup of coffee, but the pot’s empty. Maybe I’ll just run down and pick up a coffee. And I should probably stop at the grocery store while I’m out.” “My partner really wants to watch that movie, but they’re waiting for me to share it. I don’t want to make them wait any longer.”

Admit it, we’ve all done it. Hell, I’ve been doing it just this week. I let a distraction put me into procrastination mode and I want to bring myself back out of it. I just need to work through what it is that I am avoiding, and that should give me a clue as to what I need to change.

In the meantime, I will take encouragement from Laura, and the fact that she is back to work on the big house. I hope her video will offer you some encouragement, too.

And if you have a clue how to take the PRO outof procrastination, I’d love to hear it!

Creating on Schedule

In the early days of this feed I talked about the freedom to set our own schedules. About how we were no longer tied to the schedule of our employer and could choose to create at whatever time worked best for us. About how we could write or paint or cook in the middle of the night if we wanted, if that was what fed our creativity.

Within reason, of course. You can’t practice the tuba at 3 a.m. if you’re living in an apartment. At least you can’t without creating a serious conflict with neighbors who are still at the mercy of their employer’s schedule.  And you can’t rototill the garden at 6 on Sunday morning, unless you want the neighbors at your door with torches and pitchforks – metaphorically speaking (I hope!).

But in that first flush of considering all the possibilities, all the opportunities, I looked ahead to having the freedom to determine my own best schedule.

Then came two-and-a-half years of not retiring, not really. So while I thought I had all that freedom when I was setting my own schedule and often working from home, I was still working within the framework of someone else’s schedule.

Finally, after more than three years from my initial retirement date, I am completely and officially retired. Learn from my bad example: Don’t let them reel you back in!

This should be the end of the road. Beyond that you make your own path!

Now that I had finally achieved that elusive retirement status, it was time to start setting my own schedule, time to create whenever I wanted, whenever worked best for me. Hooray!! This is what I had been waiting for, seemingly forever.

Reaching this point, however, has brought me face-to-face with a harsh reality:

After nearly 70 years of following the schedules of others – school, jobs, parents, spouses, kids – I have absolutely no idea what time works best for me. I have absolute freedom to set my own hours, and I DON’T KNOW what hours to set.

Writing is not new to me. I’ve published nearly 20 books, and dozens of short stories. I’ve written non-fiction, tie-in fiction, mystery, romance, adventure. I’ve been an in-house technical writer, creating content to order on someone else’s schedule. I’ve written to outside deadlines, and internal ones.

But I have always fit the writing around other demands: work, my spouse’s schedule, my kids, medical appointments, other family obligations – you know the drill, you’ve lived it, just as I have. I couldn’t write whenever I wanted; I wrote when I could carve out time.

That worked for me when I had those outside demands. If the only time I had to create was at night and on weekends, that’s when I created, and I was successful at it. But was it the best time or was it just the only time?

I’m looking for the right time, but it’s elusive.

Now that I have retired it is theoretically the point where I can create at the best time, and I am floundering around trying to figure that out.

This was brought home to me by a post from my dear friend, Kristine Kathryn Rusch. In her blog post on Assessing Pandemic Damage she talks about how her habits and perceptions changed during the lockdown, and how that affected her creative endeavors. (Honestly, if you are interested in writing, and especially in the business of writing, you should be reading everything she writes. But I digress…)

One thing she talks about is how she shifted her writing time for some very practical concerns, and how that affected her output. As a professional with many years experience, she knows what works for her, and when she was able to shift her schedule back to mornings she found that her output increases significantly. She knows what works for her, and she used that knowledge to find her optimal schedule. The shift, both away from and back to mornings, wasn’t without bumps along the way, but it had the desired effect.

That little piece from her much longer post hit a nerve. She was able to say, quite confidently, “I’m a morning writer …” and I suddenly realized that I didn’t know what kind of writer I am.

My husband bought me a vintage fingerprint kit for Christmas. Do you think this was what he had in mind?

Was I a morning writer who just never had morning time because I wasn’t an early riser who could get in a writing session before work? Could I be a morning writer if “morning” could start at 10 instead of 6?

Was I an afternoon writer who just didn’t know it because I was at work in the afternoon five days a week, or an evening writer who would be better off spinning tales instead of cooking dinner and doing household chores in the hours after work?

Was I a night-time writer? I always assumed I was, since that was the time I had to write. After work and dinner and maybe some household chores, I would haul myself to the computer at 10 p.m. and write like crazy until it was time to grab a quick shower and fall into bed for work the next day. I know there were days when I wrote 5, 10, sometimes as much as 15 pages in those hours, racing against the clock and my deadlines, stopping to weigh the value of momentum at 1 a.m. against the looming morning alarm clock. And on the nights momentum won I knew I would pay for it in the morning.

Which brings me to now.

Now I am struggling to find the time that works for me, and I don’t have any idea exactly what that might be. I have been writing in the afternoons, then doing needlework (knitting ,beadwork, etc.) in the evenings after dinner, but that doesn’t feel like quite the right balance.

I need to do some experimenting, trying out various combinations and schedules. I have joined some friends who do a write-along on Wednesdays, a Zoom call with little to no conversation, just a small group of writers working silently in our own spaces with an almost-invisible connection to each other. That tiny piece of schedule has allowed me to get my posts written early the last two weeks, and that is a good feeling.

Over the next few months there will be some trial-and-error scheduling, some travel, and maybe I can learn something about how I work best. I invite you to come along and I will post updates on what worked and what didn’t, in the hopes I can help you navigate the same issue. And I am sure that many of you have figured out what is right for you, or at least right for now (see above, nights and weekends).

If you have solved the schedule issue for yourself, please share what works for you and how you found that solution. I would love to hear what you learned!

 

Into the Unknown

How do you do something you don’t know how to do?

This is a question that everyone must confront when they approach a new task, whether it’s repairing a light switch (for the record, I don’t go near electricity) or writing a book, or baking a cake. How can I possibly do a thing when I have no idea how it’s done?

You know, if we waited until we knew how to do a thing, no one would ever get married, or have a child, or take a new job. Ultimately it is the triumph of hope and optimism over fear; and haven’t we talked a lot about letting go of fear?

So when you’re thinking about trying something new in your creative life, think about how you approach new things in other parts of your life. You DO try new things in other parts of your life, I hope!

Keep in mind that within the impossibility of the task there is at least one thing that you know how to do. One thing, no matter how small, gives you a first step.

Start with the thing you do know how to do. In the case of the light switch that might be knowing you need to turn off the circuit breaker so you don’t electrocute yourself. Seems like a very good place to start. For a cake you might know that you need to find a recipe. For a book you need a starting point – an idea, a character, just something to get you started.

At this point you do not have to know how to finish, you only need to know how to do one thing.

From this point on that is all you must know: how to do one more thing. After you turn off the circuit breaker you take off the switch cover. After you find the recipe you check that you have all the ingredients. When you have your character you figure out what they want.

It is quite possible, as you go from one step to the next, that you will find a point where you don’t know what to do next. If I was working on that light switch that point would probably come at about the point I removed that switch plate. (Seriously, I don’t do electricity.)

That’s okay. You didn’t go into this expecting to know everything about it, after all. You just knew the first step.

Okay. Now you’re stuck. You don’t know what to do next – which wire to move, what ingredient to add, what your character will do.

This is where you figure out what comes next.

If you’re writing a book, ask yourself questions: Where is your character, what is around them? Who are they interacting with? Why? I know an amazing writer who says if you can’t figure out what comes next, have two guys with machine guns come through the door, that will get things moving. (Pro tip: You can always take the machine guns back out, but they do shake things up!)

If you’re fixing a switch, do some research. Look at the instructions that came with the replacement switch. No, really. Read the instructions. But if that doesn’t work, or the instructions are (which they often are) poorly written or even just pictures with no explanations, find another source: a book on home repair, an online tutorial, a video that shows how it’s done.

The same goes for that cake. Read the recipe carefully, but if there is something you don’t understand go do a little research and find out exactly how it’s done.

This is one of the beauties of our so-called information age. Most anything you want to explore is out there somewhere whether it’s an instruction manual (much to the relief of anyone who has ever mislaid the manual that came with their gizmo), a blog, a podcast, or an instructional video.

Believe me, if you’re stuck on something there is someone out there who has been stuck on the same thing, and they are happy – no, they are delighted – to share what they know. These people have gone to the trouble of writing down or recording what they know and they want you to share that knowledge.

Know, too, that failure is part of the process, as it was with the B. Dylan Hollis video I shared last week. He made several attempts before he found what he considered the perfect recipe, and although his “failures” were still edible they were not what he wanted.

Failure will help you find the questions you need answered. Often when we approach a project we can’t ask questions because we don’t know what we don’t know. We don’t know what piece of information, what specific procedure, what detail, we need to know, because we don’t know it exists. We don’t, that is, until the moment we need it and we don’t have it.

Then we know what to ask.

Knowing what you don’t know is a big part of the process, and to find out what you don’t know you need to be open to trial and error. You need to allow yourself to fail.

A dear friend of mine said once that it doesn’t matter how many times you get knocked down, as long as you get up at least one more time than you’re knocked down. They they added a corollary that has stuck with me for years: “It doesn’t matter how long you lay there on the floor, just that you eventually get back up.”

And that, that right there, is how you do something you don’t know how to do.

You try, you fail. You get knocked down and you stay down as long as you have to, but eventually you get back up and try again. You fail again, but you fail better. You learn from your failure, and you try again.

Growth and confidence comes from failing better, from figuring out what you don’t know and finding a way to know. Connection comes from looking for help and information, from finding others who are willing and eager to share what they know.

The only way to succeed at something you don’t know how to do is to start.

Locked In

Recently I watched a video from a creator I’ve mentioned here before, Laura Kampf. She has been working on a tiny house, and on this particular episode she was designing something for the interior. In the process she explained why she doesn’t sketch her ideas.

I am paraphrasing, but what she said boiled down to not getting so stuck on an idea that she couldn’t modify it if it didn’t work, or if she wanted to change her mind about the appearance or function of her creation. If you want to hear her explain it (far better than I have) here's a link This is Why I Don't Sketch. The first six minutes illustrate what she's talking about, but you may want to watch it all - she's very engaging!

I have had that lesson brought home for me in the last couple weeks as I have been working with beads again. Several times I have started a beaded piece only to get part way in, decide I didn’t like the look – even though I had spent a great deal of time on the design before I began – and torn the partially-completed project apart.

I will admit right up front that this hurts. It’s painful to design something you are happy with, spend time arranging and re-arranging the elements until you are pleased with it, then spend hours assembling the elements, only to be dissatisfied to the point of basically destroying the work you have done.

In the case of at least one project it meant unraveling the entire piece, which took days to knit, unstringing the beads (more hours), and sorting all the parts back into their individual storage containers.

It does get easier. Especially once you’ve done it a few times and realized how much happier you are with the revamped project. The colors you thought looked good laid side-by-side in the design phase but didn’t quite mesh the way you expected? They are stunning in the new configuration, tweaked slightly or combined with a different shade of thread, or a different balance of colors and shapes.

The same goes for my writing. I have started and thrown out stories, knowing they weren’t quite right. Even when I have done all the brainstorming and planning.

What I have learned from these experiences is that too much planning can be infinitely worse than too little. When you over-plan you can end up locking yourself into a design or an outline, and you don’t leave yourself room to be flexible, to follow the story where it wants to go, or to change up the design when a random element suddenly transforms your project. To quote Laura from the video link above, "This is me having an idea. This is me having aluminum boxes."

Daydreaming, brainstorming, window shopping – all of these are important in their own way. Generating the idea is part of the fun of a creative project. The act of creating – of putting pen to paper, or paint to canvas, or thread to fabric – is also part of the fun. It’s the reason we do these things.

Somewhere in between those two points is the planning stage, and there are times it is vital. If you need a piece of lumber for a building project, or an ingredient for baking, you need to be sure you have it available. Nothing worse than finding out halfway through mixing cake batter that you don’t have enough eggs, or the bottle of vanilla is down to fumes.

But being prepared doesn’t mean locking yourself into a plan and forcing yourself to stay in that limited space. It means you have the necessary components for your project. It doesn’t mean that you’re on a schedule, following a blueprint, without room for inspiration to take you on an unexpected journey.

One last thing: If you are reading this and saying, “But what about a recipe? When you’re baking it’s important to follow the recipe, because chemistry!” I have a wonderful little video for you. Consider this a bonus recommendation folded in with this week’s post, a makeup, if you will, for missing last week’s column.

B Dylan Hollis’ video on making Peanut Butter Bread could be a revelation. Hollis made his reputation posting TikTok videos of baking recipes from vintage cookbooks. In those minute-long posts the 20-something music student is brash, loud, theatrical, and witty – a perfect TikTok style. This YouTube post is longer and far less flamboyant (though his personality still shines through), and displays his serious interest in baking, a hobby he took up for the first time during the Covid lockdown. Hollis experiments with ingredients and processes to find what he considers the perfect recipe, and his approach illustrates what I’ve been talking about. I hope you enjoy his video.