Needlework


I’m back at my cliff, still throwing things off. No wait – that’s Björk. My reality is far less romantic. I’m back at my altar, munching on a tuna sandwich and trying desperately to squeeze in some writing before I have to head back to the office.

It’s at times like these that I am filled with admiration for all those long-dead female writers who had to snatch whatever precious moments they could to fit in some writing. Five minutes here, before putting the kids to bed; ten minutes there before getting the dinner on the table; twenty minutes before the men of the household interrupt your embroidery session, and you have to stash your beautiful words underneath your needlework.

Snatching time here and there to write – create – has long been the preserve of women. Virginia Woolf wanted a room of her own, but I find, perversely enough, that it’s easier to create when I’m limited. My room scares me because there are too many possibilities so I get anxious and end up doing nothing.

I don’t kid myself that these 10-minute blogging sessions are great literature. But I’ve surprised myself by just how meaningful they are – at least to me. First of all, I’m not as dull as I thought it would be and, secondly, they keep me connected to writing and, through my readers, to the wider world beyond.

It’s fucking priceless, that’s what it is. It’s helping me become less of a perfectionist.

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4 thoughts on “Needlework

  1. rafgeymir August 17, 2011 at 6:03 am Reply

    This sounds very optimistic! I like like like it! Now, I”ll be on holidays for 2 weeks, but will catch up with you afterwards. Enjoy the sun shining on the altar and keep on writing. (And it seems like you’re looking forward to the new Björk album as much as I do… – “I want to stand on a mountain top with a radio and good batteries. And free the human race from suffering!”)

    • petrichoric August 18, 2011 at 9:43 pm Reply

      Don’t get too excited. I’m a miserable bitch. My optimism doesn’t usually last all that long. As regards Björk, I am a fan, but I do wish that she would put an album that has, well, just got a few decent bloody tunes. I’m all for avant-garde stuff, and being experimental, but why can’t she just write a fucking decent tune?!

  2. phdinyogurtry August 18, 2011 at 12:24 am Reply

    You’ve hit onto something here. No way do I see my writing as anything holy or earth shattering or next in line for the Pullitzer. But I do see it as a point of connection. I hadn’t expected this when I first ventured into blogging but it’s what has kept me at it.

    • petrichoric August 18, 2011 at 9:43 pm Reply

      Yes, I really feel a sense of connection to my bloggy friends. It’s always sad when one of them stops blogging or disappears.

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