Interview Published about Self-Care for Creatives at Bold Journey! 🥳

Excited to share this interview with Bold Journey! A bit about the magazine: “Bold Journey is a space to share stories and learn from each other's experiences.”

Melanie, we are so happy that our community is going to have a chance to learn more about you, your story and hopefully even take in some of the lessons you’ve learned along the way. Let’s start with self-care – what do you do for self-care and has it had any impact on your effectiveness?
I’m a professor, tutor, freelance editor, and writer. I absolutely love being surrounded by motivated writers through my teaching and freelancing.

I’m also an introvert. A big part of being verbally connective for hours at a time and sharing what I know in support of others’ writing journeys is also maintaining ways to care for myself to ensure that I bring my best to personalize my responses to students and writers and to connect with my students, friends, and family in meaningful ways. 

One of my doodles—another way I rejuvenate. ✍️

A big part of my self-care routine in the past four years has been to support myself in taking breaks. Freelancers tend to work morning, noon, and evening, so I make a point most days to take at least two small breaks. Making mint tea (my favorite), reading a novel, sending my sister a funny meme or gif, or watching a few minutes of a streaming show or movie are all good, quick rejuvenators mid-day or at day’s end.

I’m certainly not perfect, and some days I only get one break…or none at all. I had a day this week with no break. In that case, the next day, I take a whole hour or two off (in the morning or early afternoon, to ensure that I work it into the day) to doodle, write, read, or take a nap to make sure I don’t burn out. The times I’ve gotten very close to burn-out have been disconcerting enough that I want to do all I can to ensure that I have the energy to support my own well-being so that I can give more support to others as well.

I’ve also gotten better over the years at telling myself what I would tell a friend, “You’ll actually have more energy and focus if you give yourself this break. Go for it!” 99% of the time, I’m amazed that, returning from even a 10- or 20-minute break, my thinking is clearer and my outlook is refreshed.

Taking walks, listening to music, and my writing practice are also huge parts of my self-care routine.

A shadow self-portrait I took one day for the fun of making something new. 📸

So is something like painting my nails a bright color or taking my camera out to capture some photos. As an introvert who is also communicative, these little, personal breaks to create something (which gives me renewed energy) often act as springboards to work I wish to share later. There are other times when I write or draw or photograph something just for the sheer joy of expression. Sometimes, I think we put too much pressure on being good at an art rather than practicing it just for our own fulfillment, and I want to tell everyone who is reading this that learning an art or a craft or a sport you always wanted to learn can be a great part of self-care and encourage your path–as well as a lot of fun.

Appreciate the insights and wisdom. Before we dig deeper and ask you about the skills that matter and more, maybe you can tell our readers about yourself?
I have been a published author and an educator for over 20 years, and I’ve been a writer since I was a child. I love to challenge and motivate myself to try various forms of creative expression, from writing narrative poems to autofiction and a Regency novella to film photography and drawing.

My most recent meaningful adventure was learning how to design my own book cover and self-publish my latest collection of poetry, called Does It Look Like Her?, about a painter, her teaching journey, and her son. I also love writing craft books about various writing topics, from writing flash fiction and poetry to the publishing process and photography, and Vine Leaves Press has published six of my craft books where I share tips and anecdotes of my writing journey with fellow writers. Motivating and supporting others in their path to creativity and personal expression has been an important part of my journey as a teacher, artist, writer, and friend, and I value and appreciate the writers I get a chance to meet and to share this writing path with as I develop my own art.

There is so much advice out there about all the different skills and qualities folks need to develop in order to succeed in today’s highly competitive environment and often it can feel overwhelming. So, if we had to break it down to just the three that matter most, which three skills or qualities would you focus on?
As a writer, perseverance, hope, and determination keep me rolling ever onward on my path. A sense of humor and the camaraderie of fellow authors certainly help as well.

Developing a support network as you practice an art, launch a small business, change careers, or any other venture in life is very helpful and often sustains our creative work as well as a feeling of connection in the literary community. Being a supportive, listening ear to others is also meaningful and a wonderful way to develop as an artist, writer, friend, and/or educator.

Is there a particular challenge you are currently facing?
The number one obstacle I face and which my fellow writers and students often mention is time. Our lives are so packed with activities that having empty pockets of time has become a luxury. At the same time, to make art or a good novel draft or other worthwhile parts of life, we need time to daydream, to dawdle, to plan, and to relax. It’s a real challenge and something that doesn’t seem to get easier to solve over time. Squeezing those self-care breaks into each day or a few times a week seems to work best. So does trying new hobbies or even new foods. Reading a book about something new energizes me as well, even if I can only dip into a few pages each day.

Stopping to have gratitude for the small moment and the little things we appreciate each day is also an energizer and helps to combat the frustration of our overly packed schedules.

Doodles 🖼️

It’s been a hot minute since I shared some doodles, so I felt like a post would be in order.

I’m not above using erasers or cover-up tape to make my drawings better if the first try goes awry. 😉

For my birthday last year, my awesome sister got me a doodle journal. I’ve had lots of writing journals over the years, but never one specifically to encourage my development as a visual artist.

Each page has a prompt. They range from very broad and easy to interpret to real headscratchers that make me amp my creativity and test my sketching abilities, like the day it suggested drawing the final scene from a movie (gulp!).

I spend just ten to thirty minutes on each drawing (the shortest sketch was my Easter tulips), often in-between grading and making a snack or at the end of the day when I’m wide awake but too mentally tired to dig into a draft in-progress.

I find I care much less about whether the sketches are realistic enough to satisfy my inner censors and much more about the fun of using the art supplies.

The slowdown is very rejuvenating on my nervous system—almost like swimming, I can feel the languid time opening up. I was thinking about that a lot this week, as I paged through what I’ve doodled so far and treated myself to a box of soft oil pastels, which are new to me.

This has also given me a chance to practice doodling people, one of my weakest skills. I gave it a whirl on a doodle of a Jane Austen book cover as well as my version of The Bard.

I used a variety of colored pens, colored pencils, gel ink, whatever was handy on these sketches.

Sometimes, I accompanied the sketch with a short sentence or two reflection, almost like a journal, either in answer to the prompt or just a thought on my mind, such as the day it was 18 degrees outside.

Enjoy this medley of doodles from my sketchbook, and may you continue to find enjoyment and inspiration in your own writing and artistic journeys! Create on. 🥳

Thanks for taking a look at these sketches and for all of your support of my books and teaching. Signed copies of my latest poetry book, Does It Look Like Her? , available at my Etsy store: clickety-click. Also, available (unsigned) through Amazon: clickety-click. 📔

This prompt asked doodlers to draw a self-portrait of themselves from another era. I drew myself in an 1860s tintype. My 1860s self is not as smiley. 😁

Reach 🤩

Reach

Sketch in colored pencils & black felt-tip pen.

I haven’t shared a doodle in a while, so I figured it was about time to break out my sketchbook and play a bit.  

I was thinking yesterday, too, about swing-arm lamps. The kind architects often have on their desks, but sometimes also students and offices. I didn’t know that they were referred to as “swing-arm” lamps until a quick search-engine search delivered that little golden nugget into my life, which I now share with you. 😉

Speaking of innovation and knowledge, I read a book two or three years ago about the Bauhaus, a German school of design, arts (including theater, sculpture, pottery, stained glass, wooden toys, and poster design), and architecture in 1919-the early 1930s. Fine arts and crafts and some very sharp-looking designs were created by young students and their professors which continue to inspire designers of furniture and architecture. They made innumerable creations in their carpentry and metal-working workshops, from chairs and swivel lamps and photography and arts posters for theater performances given at the school to coffee-and-tea sets and glassworks and weaving and you name it. If the design was geometric, spare, innovative, and functional during that time period, it was probably cooked up and refined at the Bauhaus.  

I’ve never owned a swing-arm lamp, nor a gooseneck lamp (which I think of as their fanciful second cousin), but I’ve often admired both. There’s something very appealing about the way they’re designed—form and function working hand-in-glove. They don’t just sit there stationary, but offer instant flexibility for the user. Wherever the light is needed, le voilà! Here we go; instant warm spotlight. Then, economically pushed back when not in use—until the next time.

Continued growth as a writer often requires a reaching process that combines a hearty blending of the initial sizzle of the imagination intermingled with the stability and support of consistent application, mixing the heat of creating with the cooler temperatures of refining and editing the vision into new forms for sharing.

This end-of-year time gets all of our gears turning with goals we’ve finished and those we haven’t and those we’d like to dream up for next year. Without putting pressure on ourselves (because nobody needs more of that!), it’s a good season for this kind of if-you-can-imagine-it-you-can-make-it-happen reflection.

It’s a good time for downshifting, daydreaming, and putting some plans into action for the coming months.  I have the kind of mind that needs no encouragement to cook up a project or ten and imagine the endless permutations and exciting possibilities. I also have the kind of mind (and enough experience as a writer and creative) to know it takes time, organization, trial-and-error patience, and planning to see a project to its conclusion so that it’s ready to share. I try to give my imagination free reign for a while, and then I begin to organize that wide expanse into a series of steps (accounting for setbacks and a learning curve along the way).

I’m cooking up some fun projects for 2024 that I can’t wait to share. At the moment, one project in particular is very new, wobbly, interesting ground for me, stretching what I already know with the many, many things I don’t. It includes a-million-and-one steps that I’m learning (and reading about and trial-and-erroring and trying-again-and-againing).  Stay tuned!

I am delighted to share that I have three online classes that I hope will inspire fellow creative writers and artists to invest in their own dreams and goals and talents as well as to try new creative goals that will inspire reaching into new territory as well.

If you have a friend you haven’t purchased a gift for yet or would like to invest in your own artistic process, I’d love to work with you and a friend! Mark your calendars. All three courses accepting sign-ups now 😊:

*In Tune: Writing about Music in Fiction (starting Friday, February 2, 2024; 4-week class; NEW!):

https://wow-womenonwriting.com/classroom/MelanieFaith_Music.php

*An Inside Look at Launching as a Freelance Editor (one-afternoon webinar; 1-2 pm ET; Friday, April 12, 2024)

https://wow-womenonwriting.com/classroom/MelanieFaith_FreelanceEditorWebinar.php

*Art Making for Authors (starting Friday, August 2, 2024; 4-week class; NEW!)

https://wow-womenonwriting.com/classroom/MelanieFaith_ArtMaking.php

I also have craft books aplenty that make excellent gifts, such as: From Promising to Published:

Here’s to reaching into our imaginations and cooking up the projects that will interest and sustain our creative growth both now and throughout 2024!

Write on!

New Doodles and Reflections 🎉

I felt like doodling some teapots yesterday, and then I sat down and wrote a few reflections that fell out of my head in essay form on the theme. Just fun to share. 🌞

For a few years, I bought a lot of tea kettles. I wasn’t starting a collection; I was gifting them.

If you had invited me to your wedding or to your housewarming party or to a similar occasion in that stretch of time you likely received one of these beauties wrapped in a roll of polka-dot or confetti-print paper. I bought them one at a time, brand new, and with the individual receiver(s) in mind. They were, in that way, personalized.

Sometimes, I picked enamel ones with a spate of blue, green, or red geometric designs or tiny, hearty yellow flowers across the belly; other times, I picked a plain kettle of shiny russet or a penny color; or a glass or porcelain teapot. It depended on the store’s stock and sometimes on my mood or the color combos that seemed to match the friend or cousin or coworker I was shopping for. Some of the kettles came in printed cardboard boxes and some did not. Regardless, I hand-selected and filled-in a personalized message for each kettle.

I always added a box or two of the sachets filled with pocket-square sized, often-flavored tea (orange pekoe, black tea, green tea with mint, English breakfast tea, lemon or another fruity flavor with fun, often alliterative product names) to go along with the gift so that it was immediately useful, immediately (I hoped) a part of the recipient’s daily life.

In my enthusiasm to gift, I could have planned better. Thinking back on it now, I guess I could have/should have asked if they even liked tea. I could have just gone with something on a registry, to ensure they didn’t get doubles and have to return it. I didn’t know if any of my recipients already had kettles. I loved tea, still do, and what I wanted to gift most was what I loved most: the ritual of starting with something basic and elemental and fortifying—water that would also become some steam, herbs—and within just a small amount of time (usually less than 5 minutes) a whole experience: a break, or a companion for the morning, or afternoon, or evening when sleep was futile, was created. Over and over, this comforting surety of rest and fortification.

Most tea is made now (mine included) in a small microwave that gives a tiny chirrup of beeps and then stops. Sometimes, I wait with my eager spoon a few feet from the muted window as my mug spins and spins inside the machine, and sometimes I use that time to fish through my many boxes to find the flavor of the day. It never gets old—selecting the flavor.

I don’t have a kettle at the moment and haven’t gifted anybody one in years, but I still love everything about these simple beauties: their hollowness and their heft; their handle like a purse a great aunt handmade for me when I was a kid that lifts up or can be tucked back, out of sight when not in use; the elephant-trunk curve of the little spout; the dainty lid with its knob that makes an easy lift-and-remove or fit-into-the-groove possible.  They do not require an app to operate; they run on the thought to use them, time, and patience.

Those minutes waiting for the water to bubble are a handbrake—Slow it down, down, and down again. The additional moments of the sachet simmering fragrance also speaks a similar language—Don’t leap ten steps ahead; be here. 

One day soon, I may likely find the perfect one to gift myself. But even if that time is a ways off, there is the ritual of the cup, the water turned to curlicue steam, the flavor. There is the everyday transformation to stillness and reflection: much like words, available for combination, creation, consumption, and recreation. A small part of the day, but one that betters in its own steadfastness, in its own pleasing way. 

Purple gel pen, colored pencils.

Some kettle practice. 😉

My first kettle that somehow ended up in proportions looking rather like a genie lamp! 🤣

Strawberry Doodle and Poem

Trying something new today--a poem I wrote to coordinate with this doodle I made and then colored in this week. 🎉

“Strawberry”

Remember

how Grandma’s lawn

although about an acre

expanded, endless

in bare feet, the orange

tiger lilies that grew almost

as tall as you

wild in a tangle

of July sun

in the far corner

of the garden?

You can return

anytime you like

in your mind’s eye,

even more than

twenty years after

the land, the house

was sold

when you were already

an adult

you keep this

summer, this sweet

strawberry taste on your tongue

as if seven again. Recall

all the days and days

awaiting then

into a new millennium, faraway

feeling as the spangled cosmos.

Home Phone ☎️: An Illustrated CNF Piece

“Home Phone”

You probably remember the first phones in your life, too.

My grandma had a black lacquer rotary telephone on her desk in her living room for the first 23 years of my life. It was a beauty. The sound and the little spin, as one disk moved back and then surged forward before fitting back into place again whenever a number was called, were delights. This phone was short and shiny and, as my parents reminded me when I was nursery-school little, not a toy and not to be used unless an adult said it was okay and gave us a number to use. Otherwise, hands off.

My parents also had a rotary phone at home. It was wall-mounted in the kitchen. It was also tan, which is not nearly as glam as black lacquer. It made the same delightful sounds, though.

When I was in middle school, I got my own white and gray plastic phone for Christmas (heavy as a brick and with push buttons and a little antenna, so you knew it was fancy pants), but it was still on the home landline. Both phones rang when any incoming call arrived. I wouldn’t have my own line and number until college; my first cell phone a few years after that.

Whether you curled the rotary phone’s cord around your arm like a bracelet (its own sense memory that will never vanish) or used the push-button phone, there weren’t special plans or phone cards like today, so we were reminded repeatedly that unless it was a local number (read: free) we weren’t to dillydally. We didn’t spend a ton of time on the phone, anyway, because all a phone did was make voice calls then.

This morning, when my cell-phone rang (unrecognized number, no pick-up), I decided to draw from memory Grandma’s beautiful rotary phone. I surprised myself by forgetting that, unlike a clock dial, there wasn’t an 11 or a 12 (duh; I’m not sure why my brain thought that), but I’d already inked it in that way, so I turned to a fresh page.

Then, while penciling in the numerals a second time, I flashed back to the alphabet above some of the numbers. That’s right! I found some great reference shots online (I should have started there—you live, you learn), and drawing #2 was off and running!

Some surprising things I relearned:

*They literally wrote Operator alongside the O on the dial. No subtlety here.

*There was that little metallic clicky thing (like a game-show wheel spinner) on the bottom-right-hand side of the dial.

*Drawing even circles is unexpectedly, legitimately hard. I pencil drew and redrew the three circles involved in the rotary at least twelve times. Ironically, I almost bought a compass last week.

* There was no Q on the rotary dial. None! I triple checked that on a half-dozen phone photos online. (Yes, I used a phone to find photos of phones. I am just that meta. 😊) Why no Q? The Q gets no love. Sorry, dear Q. You have a buddy, though: Z wasn’t there either. Wild! All of my formative years I used phones without these consonants and never once gave it a thought. While there are plenty of online theories about these omissions, my favorite one says that Q and Z were left behind because they resembled 0 and 2 too much. Hmmm, not so much, but an interesting theory, right?

*Memory put the numerals starting at the top and running right to left, like a clock, but the zero was on the bottom right-hand and the numerals ran down the left-hand side.

Some things, though, you never forget:

*Getting your first calls where someone specifically asked for you. A sibling or parent had to put down the receiver and walk into another room to get you (often hollering down hallways or running outside so that the other person got to hear a banging screen door and more yelling while waiting), sometimes knowing but more often not knowing who was on the other end of the line. Much shuffling and nervous hem-hawing ensued for both parties.

*Everyone overhearing your one-sided conversations, so you kept them a bit circumspect: “No way. When? Where? I’ll ask. No, I can’t. Next week? Maybe. I’ll see. He said what? She did what? Who said?”

*The sound of my grandmother’s warm tone on the other end of the line that I haven’t heard since 2000.

*The pleasing heft of the receiver.

*The satisfying little clunk hanging up. Much as I love my cell phone, especially after upgrading to a smart phone that has an app for everything under the sun, pressing the little red button does not give the same emotional zest as a rotary gave. You could guess a roommate’s, sibling’s, or friend’s mood by the way they either gently or frustratingly returned the receiver to the cradle.

In case you ever wondered: yes, you can still buy a rotary phone. In just about any color you’d prefer, from olive green to lemon yellow to vibrant orange. People sell both authentic ones and brand-new replicas online. While the era of the home phone has gone the way of the dodo, these beautiful objects—whether used for their original purpose or as cool time capsules for a shelf—are fairly affordable. Many that I saw were in the $40-70 range (but some go over $200 for the more-coveted colors, like red and bubblegum pink).

I wonder if my nieces, who are growing up always knowing a cell phone, will want one once they are on their own in a few years. I kind of hope so; I’d probably even gift them one for the fun of it. I’d like to call them and have them hear my voice in the same way I used to hear the voices of my relatives and friends. Through an object that only did one thing, but gave many layers of meaning and feeling.  

New Notebook, New Season, New Doodle📝

Starting a new notebook—this little 5 x 7 beauty was a whole $1.25—is always a good feeling for me. Potentiality on each page. I’ve been experimenting with different types and sizes of paper for my doodles.

Last night, right before sleep, I broke out my new notebook, my 0.7 mm lead pencil, and my colored pencils and made an outlined sketch of a photographer. It was a peaceful, simmering hour as I drew a preliminary/reference sketch on scrap paper, opened the second page of the notebook (I often skip the first, as it sits a bit askew in the binding), and then started this drawing.

Filling in the figure was a particularly pleasant part of the process as well—colored pencils force a kind of quiet contemplation and over-and-over-and-over patience that slows my thinking and flashes me back to childhood hours quietly coloring or writing.

It’s probably not surprising that I would choose to draw a photographer in motion. One of my other happy places is photography (a few years ago, I wrote a book that combined my writing with my photography practice and tips, Photography for Writers).

Much like when writing, when I’m behind the lens, the daily drops away. I like the challenge of making what I see and how I see it into a composition. I like that it’s not an easy process nor a process I can take for granted or even a process that I fully steer, but that there are many do-overs available—as many as I have time and inclination to make.

Mostly, photography is a place of rare transcendence where the world slows and I make my thinking and my seeing into something at once me and not me. It’s a good space.

This is my first go-’round with sketching what I’m calling a silhouette portrait. Kindly ignore the erased shoulder and erased original feet, which I only realized after pondering them were pointing in the wrong direction from her body’s stance along with the smudge at the bottom of the page by the date. We’ll just call those markers of authenticity.😁

I have to say, though: I was a little surprised that one or two elements of this drawing felt to me like what it feels when I’m behind my camera: a liminal in-between space that just is what it is and unfolds as it should (if, frequently, not as I would have originally imagined).

Or maybe this is just my fancy-pants way of saying I couldn’t believe it actually sort of resembles a human and not a stick figure. 😆

The little notebook says “Plan” on the cover, but as we know, there are many things we simply cannot plan. Mostly, we can move, slowly, in a slightly new direction and see what happens, and then repeat the process as the happening unfolds. Drawings, photographs, writing, ourselves—all unfolding.

“Interior/Exterior: Reflections on Drawing a Scene” 🖼️

Happy March! I had so much fun writing a fresh flash essay about my doodle last month that I decided to create another one to share. 🤗

“Interior/Exterior: Reflections on Drawing a Scene”

I almost wrote this reflection yesterday afternoon, but I was hungry and promised myself that after eating I’d get right to it.  And then, I just needed to pay a bill quickly and I’d sit right down and write. And then, I remembered a time-sensitive email, and then…well, you know the rest.

Yesterday’s writing didn’t happen.  

Alas, I had the “perfect” hook pop into my head yesterday, but tonight is no longer yesterday. So, scrap that. My tone today is different, and my hook has evaporated like a cartoon bubble. So be it. This reflection won’t be about whatever that would have been, and that’s okay, too.

Earlier this week, I also promised myself some time to doodle during a break, and I did follow through on that intention. I decided to try to draw a scene—a whole interior SCENE!—which I haven’t attempted since…probably middle school. Yeah, it’s been a hot minute.

I usually doodle one thing at a time, or parts of a scene, or words/phrases paired with a mini doodle or two, but to fill a whole sheet with myriad elements kept my brain and my hand hopping.

I put on some music, broke out a coffee-table book filled with gorgeous photos, picked the one that called to me most as a reference photo that I then adjusted as I went.

I started my scene on a scrap piece of newsprint paper I bought online this summer in a jumbo, 500-sheet package.

There’s something about knowing that I’m not going to save the first drawing because it’s on the kind of paper that tears when an eraser hits it that frees up my creativity. Nobody will ever see this first sketch so, who cares? Onward!

Without contemplation first, hand motions of pencil on paper are often quite soothing.

I try to get that way about more things: that not skipping ahead to envision outcome. Sometimes, my creative process lands, and I don’t stop to examine or even to think about forming whatever I’m creating until I have a draft or five. Those are the best days.

More often, though, my mind loves nothing more than just to keep skipping ahead. Ahead, ahead, ahead!

I’m certainly not the only creative to find my process varies like this. Depending on my day, my mood, how tired I am, how hungry I am, fill-in-the-factor-here, the challenge of crafting something is either easier than imagined, or more frustrating than imagined, or (most frequently for me) somewhere in-between, but it’s rarely the same type of journey more than once.

Each piece needs something different of us, like every friend, like every life circumstance.

My original sketchbook scan in all of its uncropped glory, spirals and all.🤗

So, my interior scene (which I also drew in pencil first, free-hand, on the sketchpad page and then traced with felt-tipped marker and pops of color from watercolor pencils) has some walls that are certainly not architecturally sound, a baseboard that shouldn’t look like it’s cutting through one of the plant’s fronds, some picture frames that are crooked despite practicing perspective, and a chair that I’m pretty sure doesn’t even resemble a chair.

On the other hand, I got the happiest kick while drawing the arched doorway between the rooms that reminded me of more than one friend’s home, and drawing the little locks on the big bay window, and then having a light-bulb moment about adding in a pop of life-giving green on the plants, and attempting some splash of light across the floors, and making the one rug a sisal rug with squiggle motions, and then drawing lines for wooden floors, my favorite flooring—all, nothing but joy and in the flow. 

The floors!

The wooden floors. That’s right—I was going to write something about those yesterday.

There was also originally going to be something about the lemonade I tried recently and loved. But today’s reflection needed to be the way it turned out here—about the challenges (for me, anyway) of drawing whole scenes in scale and with perspective but doing it anyway, and something about the comfort of putting elements together that make an interior that becomes exterior, which is also, pretty much, what we do when we create, whether it’s a conversation, a painting, a poem, a dance, or a birthday party. So be it.

On the balance, not bad for a cozy interior. Not great or professional, but not shabby, either.  Onward!

Indispensable: New Doodle Art and Flash Essay 😃

I don’t often publish musings or unpublished essays in my blog, so I thought it’d be fun to sit down, write one, and share it tonight. Ta-da. 💐

Indispensable 

I’ve begun to sort through clothes and such for donation a half an hour here and there, a half bag at a time, low-key and gradual. 

I’m very grateful to have more than I need. It’s meaningful to inventory and also to pare back and then pare back again. To make room and space. To share. As I’m sorting, I imagine the new uses and happiness the items will bring others as I fold and accumulate things in the donation bags as well as the money it’ll bring the thrift store and their charities. A few things had a random pull or hole or stain and went into the circular file/garbage.  I also have found some sweaters and dresses I forgot all about and haven’t worn in a few years, so they feel new to me and ready for another season of enjoyment. I call the latter “shopping in my own closet,” and it’s a great way to save money and time.

The process of sorting is, much like the rest of life, figuring out what is essential—what lights us up inside—and what we’re tired of and ready to change or switch out for a while.

I’ve also been reading a new book about sketching and so my mind is in the mood for seeing older or ordinary things with fresh eyes, like the beautiful shape of the dish-liquid bottle. Suddenly, walking into the room, I saw the bottle outline anew and took a half-hour break to break out my new watercolor pencils that I’ve had in my tote bag of art supplies for almost three months but not used before now. I’ve used dish soap since I was a kid and literally never thought about the shape of the bottle until drawing this sketch.  My hand-drawn bottle shape turned out a bit different (read: uneven) than the uniformly graceful curve of the original bottle, but there’s authenticity in that, so instead of scrapping it, I ran with it.

Also, the word “indispensable” is one that makes me sweat before I write or type it, because I’ve misspelled it for years. I looked it up about five times before doodling it with the marker and misspelled it when I first typed this paragraph. It’s a tricky word, with several different vowels and the –able ending instead of the –ible. My brain wants to insist it’s an –ible. I have to slow down or doublecheck. Much like the process of sorting, it has something to show me, something worthwhile I get to learn again and again at my own pace and little by little, like most worthwhile things.

So, I almost chose another word for my sketch, but then I pushed through it (and checked it a few more times, just in case), using the word after all. Sometimes, it’s worth persevering, and other times, not so much and it’s okay to sort it out and do something else. You’ll know as you go; do what works best for you in your art and in your life.    

My Cyanotype Print Featured at Bait/Switch 🎉📸

Shout-out and much appreciation to @baitswit.ch and Lu Valena for the wonderful experience I had making this #cyanotype print in response to a riveting piece of art by @shawnathon01 that appears in Volume 3, No 4 and for featuring my work today on Instagram. It was a great joy to be part of this publication. Many thanks to talented @christinetierneyphotoart for sharing her awesome work and encouraging me to submit to @baitswit.ch. It's a treat to be among such marvelous artists!

Check out the issue for much more amazing art and consider submitting to this ever-evolving, inspiring publication: Bait/Switch clickety-click!