I’m a scattered crafter. My interests are everywhere, and they vary in intensity by season, energy, and effort needed for clean-up. Yes, clean-up. Because, who loves cleaning up after a project? Who loves weaving in a thousand loose threads or hauling everything back to the craft closet? Not me.
In the early 90s, I was one of those girls you may have encountered on a college campus who wore hippie skirts, too many bracelets, no makeup, and smelled of patchouli and clove. That’s where my love of essential oils started. And incense.
Rollerballs, sachets, diffusers with various combinations. It’s fun letting my eighteen-year-old hippie self come back to life.
In my day job, I’m an author and an editor. My brain is in continual use, so crafting gives me a break. It keeps me sane. Crochet used to be my go-to thing, then coloring. I don’t do either of those as much as I’d like, and in fact, I have three crochet projects waiting to be finished. Weaving loose threads.
My office is where my craft closet is. It’s my creative room that, at times, sucks all creative juices out of me. I need to get away from it and sit in nature, listen to birds sing and waves lap against the shore to give my head enough breathing room to be inspired again.
Sometimes I do better with structure. I went to a DIY class at Home Depot the other day and made a desktop storage piece. Having that foundation actually allowed my mind to go to new places. That’s why I love graphic design as well. I have boundaries I’m required to stay in, especially when I’m designing a book cover.
My best friend upcycles furniture, and we worked on a table together. She bought this wrapping paper I loved that I insisted she put it on this outmoded table. Together we sanded the top to buttery smoothness, and I did all the tedious touch-up painting because I’m either a martyr or crazy for loving detail work.
Hell, I’m an editor. I obviously love detail work.
But I love the big picture too. That table ended up in my living room because it needed to be part of my big picture. After working so long on it, that table became one of my threads.
In my writing, weaving threads throughout a novel is one of my favorite things. I love bringing a theme back, reminding readers that what happened in chapter one, despite it not seeming important, was the foundation for what happened in chapter fifteen and chapter twenty and the climax.
The repeating patterns we make in life are a lot like the repetition in our crafts. How many colors of green yarn will I buy before I have every shade out there? I’ve accidentally bought the same color several times. Or was it an accident?
As scattered as my interests are, crafting settles me. It gives me moments to appreciate details. And while I’m focused on learning that new stitch or melting broken crayons to be used again or setting up a new layout in my bullet journal, the big picture always seems to reveal itself. I may not recognize it right away, but eventually, I do.
Come find me: