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Sewing the Story

I sew. I’m not enthusiastic about it. It would be easier to buy–pick an item and carry it to the cash register.

I know what I want to wear. Knowing is good, but it can be a pain. The colors, the lines, the textures, the weight–these things are obvious to me. And since I can’t afford Armani, retail isn’t an option. So, last week I chose a palette, found the trusty tissue patterns, and made a supply list on an index card. Yesterday, while my girls studied Chinese, I shopped.

Sewing is both design and engineering. Altering a pattern so I’m not yanking at my waistband all day–engineering. Changing up a tank top for variety–design. I see parallels in writing. Structuring a story–engineering. Choosing the right word–design.

I write for the same reasons I sew. I know what I want to read.

A Coatless Closet

 I turned this:

 Into this:

In a city where the average number of sunny days is 244. Who needs a coat closet? Except for the chandelier, I built this miracle of engineering with leftover wallpaper, paint, and wood. It needs tweaking–brown on the floor, generic boxes covered with wallpaper, a new trash can–but, it works. And best of all, the sewing machine isn’t sitting on the breakfast table.

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