Thursday, April 18, 2013

Creative Process, Cliff's Notes Version

Yesterday was a crummy day.
It was physically exhausting, emotionally taxing and by 6pm I had given up, changed into a nightgown and ordered pizza. 

I wrote a long blog post about it. 
When I was done, I realized that writing it all out was for me, so there it will stay. 
Writing it helped me to identify what parts I could help fix and what parts were just random garbage that was actually no use to anyone, not even myself. Digging deeper into the trash heap wasn't going to be good for anyone. We examine what is broken so that we may fix it, not so that we may roll around in it and carry it everywhere and wear it like soggy memory armor.
 I didn't learn that until I was almost 40.

I think when I was younger and had dreams of growing up and moving to the big city and being a journalist, I believed that every word was art, if written with that intent. As I've grown older I have learned that editing is as important as the creating.  There is a lot of ground between the creative process and  finished work.

I spent all morning in the process and when I was finished, all I has was a rough  day and a great deal of that was just bad luck and things I can change pretty easily. 
Nothing life altering, but lousy, all the same.

My brain still runneth over.
I have not yet emerged from the bad day cocoon I spun yesterday.

Before it all went to crap I was feeling crafty. 
I saw these on Pinterest (the Devil) and I've been trying to find a craft I can send my besties in Utah that wouldn't break the budget. 
This seemed like a good enough idea:

(image from Pinterest, could not find the original link )

I went to the Christmas Tree Store and picked up some white mugs for $2 each.
I printed and cut out a template of New Jersey and of Utah and looked up quotes on friendship.

After I was finished, I baked the mugs at 350 for an hour- Pinterest said a half hour, but I lost track of time.
I do not think they are dishwasher safe, but they will survive a decent hand washing. 

(this one is for Sher, my  poor, misguided Utes- loving friend)

You could easily fit 20 New Jerseys in one Utah.
My heart really is in both places now. 
Both feel like home.

If reminding myself of that doesn't pull me out of my cruddy mood, then I'm going to need to pull out the big guns and take the last, hidden box of Samoas out of the freezer.

1 comment:

  1. I love the mugs! I know what you mean about of my writing teachers told me to think of the first draft as clay, and of all the edits after that as the clay being slowly sculpted. That's helped me a little...but I still don't like it. :D