CLEANING

/ janpriddyoregon

A favorite Heritage Tree in Portland, shown in winter. It began dying a few years ago. It’s gone, but a sapling thrives in its place.

.

Before I can begin something new, I like to clear my work space. In the case of the quilt I am planning, this means clearing off my mother’s old dining table that has become my work table, removing markers from the cutting board, and cleaning and wiping it over. It means restacking the plastic bins with fabrics and yarn—they tend to drift across the room, empty themselves, and gather in piles all around the space. My ironing board was unusable, but must be uncovered and also cleaned. Only then can I press the key fabric I’ve chosen for “OtherLand II” and begin cutting it into seven ziggy bands. The first cut is irrevocable.

I’ve done with staring—that takes a mont or so to get the image. These are the OtherLand II” fabrics… and maybe to make tension, turquoise; I have that fabric set out too. I won’t know if/where the turquoise fits till I have the major players cut—that’s the fabric on the left, the carmine-streaked black in the middle of the photo, and solid black tucked second from the right. I’m uncertain about the streaky coppers, gold, and bronze at far right. It’s a stunning fabric when I unfold it. The design’s in my head and I’ve got a start, but it will take a month or more of hard study, cutting and piecing, before it’s done.

Preparing to write should be simpler. I can always have multiple stories going at the same time. There’s no workspace to clear, only my head. Nothing needs to be put away, though I prefer to set work aside only after I’ve gone as far as I can. If I wanted motivation or a new space, I could pay for a workshop someplace or earn my place in a retreat. I could take a class, hire a writing coach, or enter an MFA program. I don’t have money for any of this. Anyway, I already have my MFA and there no spare money for anything more.

What I’ve done is send my story to a friend and she’s sent me notes that immediately make sense. There is nothing else I need to do to prepare to write. The story is there, the direction provided. I should begin now. Simple enough.

One last challenge: just as I fear that first cut until I have a clear mental vision of what I am making, I must have confidence that what I’m writing is worthwhile. Revising the novel has become habit—the cover done, the press chosen, interior design in progress, proofreading mostly done. I’m not writing a novel anymore, I’m done writing. I need to move on to the next thing. It’s not always enough to trust the writing. I have to trust me.

At my age, I shouldn’t still be sending out stories to unpaid literary journals; I should already have published novels. I’m a little low on confidence about my writing just now. I can’t be certain my writing matters.

I will stall about the writing and cut cloth instead.

Yesterday, I managed to run a weak mile in two parts and we picked up a few big chunks of poly-foam, but the day before when Gary thought we wouldn’t need a bag we carried home a lot of trash, including 15 plastic bottles. Earlier in the week, five glass bottles, and a young man throwing rocks and driftwood around made us uncomfortable. I skipped a walk because he was nearby and I didn’t want him to know where we live. Have I mentioned that even though we didn’t witness the visit, the elk has been by again?

This morning, 12 more plastic bottles.

9 thoughts on “CLEANING”

  2. Jan, you have to stop comparing yourself to other writers (easy for me to say, as I have the same feelings: “…at my age, I should…[fill in the blank] *>) I love that you are working creatively in different realms (art and writing), and working at reaching another “personal best” (running an upcoming marathon), and recently you worked at rehabbing and restoring your property, and look at all the other things in your life that are going well: a good, solid relationship (which takes a different kind of “work” to be successful and fulfilling–some people never have that), and grown kids who love you, and a community of friends who admire & respect you…well Heck…! I guess there’s nothing wrong with wanting the “perfection” of everything in extraordinary “order,” but take a deep breath, and give yourself a break. There is still time to reach those other lofty goals. Maybe take a hint from the David Hockney exhibit at the PAM (first Thursdays are Free admission.) I went earlier this month, even though I was more of a fan of his contemporaries Richard Diebenkorn, and Wayne Thiebold (both now passed on, RIP), while Hockney (at age 88) is still going and growing with all the new ways of using photography, printers, multiple video cameras, and ways of seeing and being a part of an exhibit. I went, remembering how “boring” his Southern California paintings of upper middle class white people lolling by their swimming pools were, back in the 70s, and was overwhelmed by all he has seen and done since then. His exhibit is at PAM until July 26th, and I plan on returning. Maybe I’ll see you there?

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

    • So kind, Mimi. Thank you. I appreciate the intention of your comment.

      Yes, I’m afraid I dismissed Hockney for the reasons you mention fifty years ago. Since then, he’s done what an artist is supposed to do by pushing at his own personal envelope. But while I like the new work better, I’m still not much of a fan.

      At heart, I am an optimist. I love my family and am proud of my professional life as a student and teacher and proud of my education and creative work over the years. I live in one of the most beautiful places in the world. I am training for a 5k/3.1 mile run and will likely manage that before November, though probably not the 10k Bridge Crossing at 6.2 miles. (I have never run a marathon, though I’ve run several half-marathons, including one that was official.) I’ve exhibited art all over the world, was the first ASFA Regional Director, loved our dogs and cats, and even the elk in the hedge. With my husband, I cared for my dying mother in her last years. Proud of all that. Grateful too.

      There are things I am sorry for, of course. I’m not aiming for perfection, I’ve been close enough.

      My writing is something else. I’ve published dozens of stories, poems, and essays. Yet I have reasons for giving up on publication. Nearly two hundred rejections in the last couple years would put most people off. The last time I emailed friends to ask if they would be willing to read my work, a few didn’t bother to respond, a couple said they were too busy, and of the six who agreed, only two responded and one of them said they read only halfway through. More recently, a person I respect made clear to me—no argument—that I had not written what I’d intended and they disliked looking at manuscripts again (so “fixing” it and asking if it’s better is a no-go). DAUGHTERS has absorbed my attention for going-on eight years. Most responses to my novel over the past couple years indicate that I have failed to achieve what I hoped or much of anything worth sharing. It’s a lot to put down. I’m allowed to feel sad about that.

      I do have other goals. Just now they involve colored fabric. I have valid reasons for focussing on a quilt just now. It isn’t about giving up or seeking perfection; it’s about setting aside a long-held goal in the interest of self-preservation.

      Like

      Reply

  3. cleaming is a way of life at least thats what I’ve been sold
    moist people are cleaners from the beginning
    if ya see a five dollar bill on the ground
    ya gotta pick it up–leave the lesser denominations
    for these whom worship alters and golden armored fingerines
    but seriously I’ve spent a lot of time wondering where I went wrong
    for a quilted kilt still needs to be cleened once in a while

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

Leave a comment