My point is to let you know that we can carry over skills from previous projects and even bring along life skills from being mothers, husbands, teachers, students to help us accomplish our goals.
Day 6-
I have such a bad habit. I arrogantly believe that I can improve on someone else's instruction. Better yet, I sometimes discard the directions completely. I am moved to improvisation in all my learning pursuits. That's a bad thing. NO! Sometimes it's a good thing. I can improvise music on the piano. I've been improving on other people's compositions since I was eight years old.
But.......
In knitting, if you want to produce an object that looks exactly like the picture you have to follow the pattern.
"Oh dear, I only have 99 stitches on the needle and my pattern says I should have 110."
First Response:
"That's okay. I'll decrease by 11 stitches on the next row.
Better Response:
I'll take out the stitches until I have the correct amount.
TAKE OUT?
Now let's compare that to writing a novel.
I knew the story. It was all in my head. The first day I launched into chapter one. It wasn't until I was in chapter four that I realized I didn't know where I was going. Should I go back and outline my book?
GO BACK?
"An outline is the road map to your book. You wouldn’t think of driving anywhere without getting a list of all the roads and highways you need to take to get to your destination. The same is true with an outline for a book. A complete outline will be your road map to writing—and, more importantly, finishing—your book fast."
TCK Publishing
To be entirely honest, my default thinking is always improvisational. However, I know that following instructions will make the process simpler and more successful. Next Day
As the honeymoon wore off I found I needed to assess my commitment. When new stitch patterns turned out to be difficult would I lay them aside? When the words on my computer screen stopped coming would I shut the lid and quit?
It dawned on me that I had skills to bring to the table this time around.
I have learned to finish what I start after years of abandoning my plans when I lost interest.
I have learned to breathe through moments of screaming in frustration.
I have learned to ask for help and feel like a child again.
I have learned to feel grateful for small successes and celebrate in a large way.
I have learned that I don't need to be better than anyone else just willing to improve myself.
These are big skills and it took many years to grow them.
I will admit that I had crocheted before so holding yarn in my hand was not entirely new.
I have been writing, mostly blog posts, so writing is a skill I've been working on.
My point is to let you know that we can carry over skills from previous projects and even bring along life skills from being mothers, husbands, teachers, students to help us accomplish our goals.
Therefore,
Writing a novel is like learning to knit. Next Day
The cake of yarn came like this, slightly different hue, and I was so excited to see the gradient changes.
The Pattern I used was on U-Tube and I watched it so many times.
Since I'm comparing my knitting honeymoon to the writing of my first novel I'll share the idyllic first chapter of 'Rubato'.
I had such a juicy story idea and the first chapter seemed to write itself.
Chapter One
“Music embodies feeling without forcing it to contend and combine with thought, as it is forced in most arts and especially in the art of words.”
Franz Liszt
Judith sat at the piano in her music room, her curly hair ruffling around her face. The sun streaming in the window scattered dapples of light over the hardwood floor, bleeding on the thick rug under the piano. Scattered around her on the floor were sheets of typewritten pages, music scores, and in an archival see-through plastic sleeve the worn and carefully guarded fragment of the first 34 measures of The Rhapsody No.8 by Franz Liszt, the great Hungarian composer. She gently picked it off the floor and placed it on the music stand. This piece of manuscript was her secret treasure, brought from Europe, hidden among her music. The word mesto was written at the beginning of the piece. Sad and pensive was what she felt and obviously it was what Liszt wanted her to feel when she played the beginning. She brushed the plastic sleeve with her palm and allowed herself the great risk of taking it out of it’s protective environment. As she touched the delicate page she traced the word mesto with her finger tip. The ink was black, the notes boldly written with determination and fervor. The first strong notes cascaded up the octaves and culminated with ten repeated C sharps, all in a row. The sound of it in her head was rich with color and texture. It gave her the greatest joy to play the F Sharp minor section with it’s melancholy announcement and then shift into the sudden change of a major key. The minor section of this Rhapsody reflected her life presently and when the major section opened up to the rapid energetic notes, Judith hoped her life would change direction with the same positive intensity,
Judith knew there were autograph fragments of the rest of the Rhapsody in the Library Of Congress, Franz Liszt Collection, in Washington D.C. but no one knew she possessed the first page. Carefully, reverently, she put it back into the plastic sleeve. No one needed to know what she had in her possession, at least until she could verify her find with another scholar. It must most assuredly never again, come into his hands.
Today was a test. Jon walked down the cobblestone pathway towards his teacher’s house on the edge of the island. He was nervous, like butterflies playing volleyball in his belly. Lances of light blinded him as he tried to hop from stone to stone. He stopped to look at the saffron-yellow sunlight dancing on the water. Beautiful things always captured his attention. What would it be like to see the water all the time? His home was inland so he often forgot he lived on an island. He longed for a day of adventure but instead he was going to a weekly piano lesson with his mother. He liked his teacher, but she was moody. Last week she attacked his ability to read notes. It was true that he memorized his music easily. It was just faster using his ear than trying to figure out all the notes. The test today was whether she could tell if he had been practicing his sight reading exercises.
“Don’t bother coming back if you don’t seriously buckle down and learn to read music!” The sting of her words still made him uncomfortable. After the last lesson he told his mother he wanted to quit. She raised her eyebrows at him. She knew he loved playing too much to quit. So, Jon practiced all week, endlessly drilling with computer flash cards. It was working. Relationships between the lines and spaces started looking like patterns. He went from sight reading short lines to picking up the Waltz in A Minor. Judith would be amazed that he was playing Chopin.
Jon reached the front door and turned the knob. It was sticky and didn’t open right away. Every week he felt weird just walking in without knocking but that is how Judith liked it. His mother was right behind him.
“I don’t hear anyone playing. Let’s go through.” Then his mother stopped. “It sounds really quiet in here. I wonder where Judith is?”
Jon walked through to the music room and on the way touched the statue of Liszt on the table. The marble felt cold. His mother settled onto the couch. “Go ahead and warm up with your scales. She’ll be down in a few minutes.”
He approached the piano, fingering the Steinway ivory keys. This was the only piano he had ever played with real ivory. He wondered how many elephant tusks it took to make ivory key tops. Above the keyboard the ever present plate of black licorice next to the music stand tempted him. He tried a piece once when she wasn’t looking and hated the taste. She never really offered it to him; he just assumed it was for her students. Above the piano his eyes scanned the water off the bluff through the picture window. He wished suddenly that he could just go to the beach.
“You’ve worked really hard this week. Judith will be impressed,” his mother said.
“I know. I just want it over with.”
“But you are doing so well and I’m proud of you, no matter what she says.”
Jon opened his music and started playing. Judith’s Steinway piano had a “mellow tone”, or so his mother said. It made the minor chords softer, adding a dark color to the sound. Today Chopin’s notes seemed to reach the ceiling mysteriously and then float down mixing with the beams of light from the window. Jon lost his awareness of time. He played the waltz through again, letting his body sway to the motion of the music.
“Where can she be?” His mother interrupted his reverie. She began pacing around the room looking out the windows. The garage door was open and an older, gold Mercedes was visible inside. It was unusual for Judith to keep them waiting this long. She was a bit eccentric but not unreliable.
“Maybe she’s outside,” his mother said. Jon heard the door off the deck open and her loud footsteps matched the rhythm of the bass line in his music. She was calling Judith’s name.
Jon played the next piece faster, stumbling over the scales going up and then down.
His mother reappeared in the music room. “There is no sign of her in the yard. This is kind of bizarre. I’m going to look in the kitchen.”
“I don’t think…I don’t think she would want us looking around her house, Mom.” He called after her.
“Play that harmonic minor scale one more time and go up two octaves this time.”
Jon heard a door creak open and then shut with a loud bang.
“Mom? Are you snooping?”
His mother came back, this time with her cell phone in hand.
“I’m calling her number to see if it rings somewhere in the house.” Jon closed the lid of the piano. He felt like going home. Then they both heard the ringing of classical music very close by.
“It’s her phone under the piano.” Jon got on his knees and crawled towards the phone.
“Don’t touch it Jon! I have a funny feeling about this.”
“What…, what do you mean, Mom?” His head came up too soon and it hit the frame of the piano. “Ouch!” He crawled out, rubbing his head.
“She must be here somewhere. I’m going upstairs to the bedrooms.” His mother moved towards the staircase.
“No! Mom, let’s just go home.” Jon followed his mother.
She mounted the stairs tentatively but determined to solve the mystery. Jon waited at the bottom. When his mother disappeared down the hall, the strange feeling he felt earlier started a slow boil in the pit of his stomach making him feel sick.
“Judith?” His mother’s voice faltered. He heard her come back and from the top of the stairs she looked down at him with a look of shock. “Jon, something is wrong. Stay downstairs. I’m calling the police.”
So, by now you are wondering how long the honeymoon lasted?
No long enough.
Tomorrow I write about the skills I brought to the table and the skills that were missing.
When it comes to learning a new skill I'm convinced that there is a time for everything so when the catalyst is in front of you I suggest you give in and take the leap of faith.
October 3-
Don't you just love to go out and buy supplies for your newest learning adventure? I know. You are thinking that there is a monetary danger here. And you are right. There is actually a chemical reaction in your brain that fires when you buy some new stuff.
However, as my husband likes to say, "You must have the right tools". When I started to write my first novel I purchased Scrivenor software for writers. I had such fun using all their fancy doohinckies, do you know that word? I made it up. For the first few days I got a charge just from opening up the software.
I'm writing!!!
And that was exactly what it felt like when I went to my first yarn store. The colors of the yarn were dazzling and the accessories for knitting took my breath away. What were those cute charms everyone put on their knitting? Why would I need a progress keeper?
BUT....we all know that this chemical rush subsides.
Learning something new moves on from buying the right supplies to getting down to the basic skills.
As I compare these two pursuits you will hopefully see how I came to try them, struggled to learn some skills, and eventually came to embrace them as life long activities.
October 2-
So you want to learn a new skill? Maybe you admire someone's expertise or long to have a finished project but don't know how to start.
You need a catalyst to launch your decision.
Catalyst: def., an agent that provokes or speeds significant change or action.
For me it was watching my daughter knit and produce beautiful clothing. Her love of fiber and artistry inspired me to try my hand and she promised to teach me how to start.
The catalyst for my attempt to write a novel came from a suggestion to join NaNoWriMo in November.
NaNoWriMo, National Novel Writing Month, helps you track your progress, set milestones, connect with other writers in a vast community, and participate in events that are designed to make sure you finish your novel. Oh, and best of all, it’s free! It felt like I had some accountability and I enjoyed watching my word count go up everyday.
I'm convinced that there is a time for everything and when the catalyst appears I suggest you give in and take the leap of faith.
Tomorrow I write about the joy of getting started and gathering supplies, always the best part. The next day
As adults we never stop learning and there are many life skills we already have that make learning more accessible.
October 1-
Likening one thing to another illuminates and separates.
As I write this statement I feel the burden of explaining how that can be. I could tell you about how I wrote a novel and that might interest you but if I compare and liken it to my experiences learning to knit it could help you understand the inner process of learning with more clarity. Writing and knitting are more the same than different. It could also pull more people into my story. Is it safe to say more of you have tried knitting compared to writing a novel? No? Then I am overjoyed that so many writers are out there typing away and providing me with new and interesting stories.
That aside; as I compare these two escapades you will hopefully see how I came to try them, struggled to learn some skills, and eventually came to embrace them as life long pursuits.
It's that time of year. The 31 Day Writing Challenge is almost ready to start. I missed last year and I am primed to continue my October writing.
This year I want to write about adult learning. Having some new projects is what keeps me focused on now. I just like learning new things, even knowing there is often a steep learning curve. I started this blog in 2011 and choose the title "Back On The Floor Again". That's what it feels like to start on something new. The floor is humbling. I don't get up as easily as I once did. However, the floor has a great view. I can really see the foundation of what I am pursuing. So.....this year I'm writing to the theme, "Writing a Novel Is Like Learning To Knit."
Have you tried either one? There are many ways that these two activities feel the same. Join me to listen to the epic tale of learning to use needles and pen. Click here to get an index page. You can come back to see the posts from each day. You might like to read the other years when I wrote for 31 days. Stories of Island Living was especially fun.
