I just finished a big crochet project–in fact, it was my debut project when I decided to take up crocheting again about six months ago. The result was a huge pile of crocheted squares that I was supposed to piece together into some kind of blanket.
No two squares were the same size. This was a doomed effort, I thought.
But I decided to persevere and sew together this stupid pile of squares–what else was I going to do with them?–and see what happened. And guess what? As I pieced them together, they stretched a bit and compressed a bit as needed. They settled into their new neighbors. And they came together into something beautiful and warm.
I expected to get something that resembled a blanket, but not something beautiful.
Isn’t that what we do when we write? We create and create until we have a pile (often ugly) of characters, dialog, scenes, plot twists; and then we start putting them all together, even though by then we’re often struck by the utter hopelessness of the endeavor. And then, like magic, all the pieces settle together. They give a little at the edges, soften and bend until they meld, and finally you end up with a book that’s somehow greater than the sum of the pieces.
I guess the trick is to remember, when you’re in the midst of the ugly squares, that that’s what the process is supposed to look like!
Cheryl
