Archives for November 2003

I did it, I wrote. I’ve discovered (and what writer hasn’t, except me apparently?) that it’s GREAT to write at the coffeeshop. I always thought there would be too many distractions. And it’s true, there are a lot of ‘em. Weird-looking dogs. People who sing. People who talk on their cell phones WAY too loudly (common courtesy, folks, that’s all I’m sayin’).

But you kinda look up, you notice, you look back down and go on working. At home I have SO many more distractions, and there’s always the option of standing up and doing other things, all those other little things that absolutely must get taken care of right now. When you’re out of the house, those reminders are gone. It’s fun just to sit and write and drink chai and dream. Felt like playing.

I love that feeling.

It also felt like playing last night when I took BART into the City to meet the girls for knitting. It was raining and I got incredibly lost walking around looking for the bar where we were supposed to meet. I had Yahoo-mapped the directions, which is, let’s face it, not always the best way to go. I ended up about three-quarters of a mile down Delores in the wrong direction, in the rain. But it was awesome. Lost in the rain, on SF streets, it felt romantic and adventurous. If I had never found the bar, it would have turned into something quite irritating, but I called my friend Brooke who knew exactly where I was supposed to be and how to get there.

And so I ended up at Papa Tobey’s Revolution Art Bar Cafe. Yup. With the sliding walls opened all the way to the street and the rain, with its drunk cowboy who’s apparently a regular, with acoustic music sung by extremely sensitive women, with the back of the bar filled with eight or nine knitters, it was awesome.

Part of the group:

The cowboy, playing chess and drinking under the overhang, next to the rain:

But hey. Knitting cables by candlelight, two beers down, without a cable needle? Daring, to say the least. I swore quietly. A lot. But it was worth it.

Working fourteen hours Saturday, so I’ll see you Sunday?

A quick word to say Happy Friday (my Monday) and it’s off to work with me. Didn’t get up early today – had too much fun at the bar knitting last night. Will tell you about it later. In the meantime, Bethany’s settling in…..

https://rachaelherron.com/a_quick_word_to/

Three posts in one day? I can’t stand it.

First, must say that Debbie Stoller bought yarn from my friend Kira at Art Fibers this afternoon. Uh-huh.

And second, look at what Missa whipped up. And I mean it took her about forty-two seconds to come up with two (excellent) choices. I chose this one:

Steal it!
Link it!
Whoo hoooo! We’re tatt-ing now, and we don’t need no shuttle, neither.

https://rachaelherron.com/three_posts_in_/

holy cow, I love this story from alison.

I have identified and named my main goblin. (For those of you just jumping in the creative-process-talk that’s been going around some of these blogs, a goblin is that little voice that keeps you from doing your best work. Or any work at all.)

My big guy, my biggest problem, is the Tomorrow Goblin. Oh, he’s slick, all right. Today’s not quite right, he says. Sure, you’re a good writer. You’ll finish that novel and you’ll start another one. I have no doubt about that. But today you have to work a twelve hour shift and stop at the grocery store when you get off. Write tomorrow, you deserve a break today. – Or – Today you’ll barely have time to blog and do the morning pages before you have to be at the dentist and then you’re meeting the girls at the movies, you’ll have so much more time tomorrow. You’ll do such a great job tomorrow. Just relax today. – Or – Today you’re just in a non-creative mood. You’d do better to sit on the couch and knit and let the writing well fill up on its own. Tomorrow’s going to be such a fabulous writing day for you!

You see? He’s a flatterer. I eat that shit up. Yeah? I’ll do good tomorrow? Okay, today I should take it easy, then. All right. Who’s going to feed me those grapes? Concierge! *snap*

(And to those of you not involved in deconstructing the creative process, we are not crazy. These aren’t (in my case) actual voices we hear coming from grizzled little guys with pointy ears and curled shoes. These are the things we say to ourselves in rapid, mostly unnoticed thoughts. Mighty effectively, I might add.)

I’ve got other goblins that come to visit, but I’ve been dealing with them for years. I know what to do to trick them. To the Editor Goblin I say, have a seat. As soon as I’m done with this, you can tear it apart. And then I lock it away while he sulks. Most of them sulk, come to think of it. But the Tomorrow Goblin is crafty and makes me feel good. If I were on a diet, he’d be the one telling me that because I witnessed that fender bender on 3rd Street I deserve that ice-cream sundae for my stress – I can always eat better tomorrow.

But you know what? Yesterday, I kicked his ass. I dragged him kicking and screaming down to the tea shop where I made him stand outside in the cold while I got a huge chai and wrote sitting in one of the deep couches. He didn’t wait for me – when I went outside he had left for parts unknown. Probably out on a goblin bender, tossing back the spiked antifreeze. He’s getting closer today, I can feel it. I have to go get a flu shot this morning – he’s whispering that I might feel funny after it, it might be better to plan on writing tomorrow.

Hey. Today’s good. It’s that simple.

Oh! Big shout out to Steph – I’m working on the sleeves of the Must-Have (doing it in the wool called for, Paton’s Merino Classic Wool, in Natural Mix, a nice oatmeal color ) and I got to a line that I COULD NOT DECIPHER. I sat and fought with it for half-an-hour, almost coming to tears over it. (Thank god I did my writing early yesterday. The TG would have won, right there.)

The instructions were, over a 3 st group, K1, yfwd, K2togtbl. Hey, here’s what they left out: WTF? Yarn forward? Huh? If I bring the yarn forward, how the hell can I possibly knit 2 together through the back loop? And that makes a decrease, and I’m not SUPPOSED to make a decrease! I was ready to stab the carpet with my bamboo needles. I sent an SOS to Steph, who’s making the same thing.

And she saved me: It was a language barrier! Who knew? In Canada and Britain, yarn forward means yarn over! That tiny detail cleared it all up, and this is where I’m at:

Ain’t it fun? I’m in love with it. Sleeves always seem to take so long, but I know I should just enjoy the ride. Off for a flu shot. And then to write. Yup.

Yep. This is the reason I’m still sitting here.

I only got 72. We didn’t have cable when MTV came out. Okay, we never had cable.