Welcome . . .
2011
posted by wholly jeanne on life
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This is not a workshop. I am not going to tell you how to be happy, how to lose weight, how to make your first (or forty-first) million, how to sell your house, or how to find love. I am going to simply tell you a story and the story about how the story happens. I am going to tell it to you slowly, just as it unfolds and decides to be told, as it whispers and reveals itself to me. It’s a slow story, being written with the muse of slow cloth in the context of a not-so-slow life. Though there’ll be a book at the end (and if you join, you will receive a copy of it – more even, depending on which level you select), this blog is a living book unto itself. And like any living thing in its infancy, I don’t know how long it will live or how it will look when it grows up or what outside forces will shape it into what it becomes. I only know that creativity is pure magic, and there comes a time when a woman has to live by the seat of her intuition, trust her process, and grab her some of that magic. It may be an unusual way to tell a story – to sell the book at the seed stage and to show your work, but that is how this story (currently unfolding via a series of letters penned by a woman named Ever to her deceased husband, undated because I can’t decide on the time of year and out of order because I capture them as they come) begs to be told: a story of a woman wrapped in the story of cloth wrapped in the story of journey.
Feel free to peruse the free section by clicking on the “free” category and the about page and the TAQ’s (the Thoughtfully Asked Questions) then top it off with pulling up a chair via the join page. And don’t fret that we’ve already started. Once you join, you have access to everything, right from the beginning, so there’s no such thing as being late here. You’re always welcome, and there’s always enough fun to go around.
story: blessing
2012
posted by wholly jeanne on story
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Dear Slide,
Well, I did it. I called Ora and said “Let’s go grab a bite” to which she said “Okay.” We met over at a new girley-girl teahouse where there’s enough pink to make you think of an antacid, which I suppose allows you to order anything on the menu without fear of digestive distress. Pre-emptive, I guess.
I got there first, thank goodness, cause I’m not sure I would’ve recognized Ora. Plus you know how I am walking into a crowded room – I kinda’ panic and see only the crowd, not the individuals. Which probably says something about me, but I don’t care enough to try to figure that out ’cause it would just add more to my Things I Need To Do To Improve Myself List, and that one is long enough, thank you very much. Anyway, Ora spotted me and came right on over, took her seat, and seemed quite sincere when she said it was good to see me again. And for the record, I was glad to see her, too, though my brain threw a fit of protection and hissed stuff about || Read more
life: bits
2012
posted by wholly jeanne on life
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I like order.
I detest order.
I long for set rituals and rhythms to my days.
I resist rituals and rhythms to my days.
Because I am such a natural mimic, I only read certain types of books when I’m writing for fear of imitating another’s voice. Self-help books, mostly, which often leave me feeling frustrated (because I thought of that long time ago but didn’t see it as worthy of writing it out, didn’t think anybody else would be interested) and/or woefully inept (because i didn’t think of it on my own).
But there are nuggets that I mine and tuck away, sometimes posting on a sticky note as constant reminder . . . at least until the visual clutter created by the sticky notes drives me up the wall and have to go. Here are a few I’ve tucked away recently:
“When the idea came, it felt inspired, but knowing how capable i was of doubt and how cold my feet would get, I wrote a note to myself: ‘Sue, this is a really good idea. Before you dismiss it, remember how you felt when it came to you.’” Sue Monk Kidd
and this:
“The right question for writers to ask is: || Read more
story: appliances
2012
posted by wholly jeanne on story
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Dear Slide,
I’ve just been sitting in front of television. That horrid, horrid television that drains your brain power and is the disdain of intellectuals the world over. Well, it’s been company for me, Slide. Good company. The best kind of company ’cause I don’t have to muster the energy to entertain anybody, to find something to say, to find witty, engaging questions to ask. For an hour at a time, I can slip out of my life, hang it up and sit and peer into the lives of others without having to take them to raise. I went online and ordered me some of those television tables so I can even eating my meals in front of it, knowing good and well that my food will just clump up and refuse to be properly digested. Ha. I don’t care what they say about it, Slide. I just don’t give a || Read more
life: in the space between
2012
posted by wholly jeanne on life
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it has been a while, and i apologize to you and to me. the space between has been filled with holidays and family and crises. the space of my life was altered abruptly the thursday before thanksgiving when my husband came home early and announced he’d been laid off. talk about turning a life upside down or maybe it’s more like blindfolding it and spinning it around and around and around then giving it a shove and watching it stumble and fall as it tries to right itself, as it tries to find its way to a destination unknown.
just call that metaphor soup.
i had a rhythm to my days, and that has been altered.
he had a rhythm to his days, and that has been altered.
now we seek a rhythm to our days.
and i am disappointed with myself that i haven’t shown up here to write. the characters cavort about my inner self, cajoling me to take them to the playground of the page where they can romp and explore. i long to be the kind of dedicated artist who shows up every single day regardless. i need to be that kind of artist. i need it down to my cells.
when i am away from my studio, when i don’t write and i don’t stitch and i don’t do anything but the daily chores necessary to survive, i wither. and when i come back, || Read more
story: visitors came a-knockin’
2012
posted by wholly jeanne on story
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Dear Slide,
So there I was, sitting at the table with a plate of cookies in front of me, when I heard a knock at the door. You know I wasn’t expecting anybody, so I was more than a wee bit wary about answering the door, but when I peeked outside and saw a mini-van parked in the drive, I thought it’d probably be okay. Who am I kidding? I was so surprised, I didn’t think anything – not a single thing – just opened the door. And who do you think was standing there but a bunch of || Read more
story: food
2011
posted by wholly jeanne on story
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Dear Slide,
I’ve sworn off going to the grocery store, and yet I continue to find things to eat here in the house. I’ve turned hermit – just the thought of leaving the house sends me as close to a panic attack as I’ve ever been. But I eat. Don’t you worry about me going hungry, cause I eat.
And I eat and I eat and I eat.
Maybe I eat cause I don’t have anything else to do. Maybe I eat cause || Read more
life: backstage pass
2011
posted by wholly jeanne on life
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i am fascinated with women’s creative process – how they create, where they create. what tools they use, where the images and ideas come from. what rituals take them into the creative process. their quirks and, well,, any details a creative woman will give up, i’ll soak up.
and i’ll go first . . .
TOOLS
when it comes to writing, i like to write in longhand because it slows my constantly-whirring brain down to the speed of boredom, and it eventually nods off and leaves me alone. but when i write on the computer, my fingers move as fast if not faster than my brain, and there’s gold in them thar’ hills, too, cause my fingers can just whiz off and leave my brain to eat their proverbial dust.
so what’s a girl to do? that’s the question that plagued me for years, but then . . .
last year i found just the ticket, and both men in my life gave me one for christmas last year (i returned the one from my son and put the money back on his credit card, assuring him he should feel free to spend it on my birthday): || Read more
life: detours
2011
posted by wholly jeanne on life
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Wishing you all the happiest of Thanksgivings. And hey, I thank you from the bottom of my little ole’ pea-pickin’ heart for being here at Writing Cloth with me.
story: maybe (revised)
2011
posted by wholly jeanne on story
2 comments
Dear Slide,
The past two days have been miserable. Awful. Unbearable. I just laid there in that bed of cold molasses, waiting. Every now and then I’d hear a creak or some other kind of sound, and I’d wake up with a start and a smile, sensing I’d be seeing you come through the door any minute. When you didn’t, when I was fully awake, it was just plain too heavy for me to carry, so I went on back to sleep. Sleep, my escape hatch.
Then today the sun comes out and brings with it a little bit of energy and salve for the open sores in my soul. While I had the energy, || Read more
story: cold molasses
2011
posted by wholly jeanne on story
2 comments
Dear Slide,
It’s cloudy today, cloudy inside and out. I woke up reaching for you, wanting to back into you and spoon like we used to do, but all I found was a pillowcase full of my letters. You weren’t there, and my letters are no substitute. The letdown, the disappointment, the deep sadness overwhelms me. Breathing || Read more