Overcriticizing Your Own Work (or How NOT to Take a Compliment)

Posted on by Erin Bartels

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAOn Sunday I wore this dress for the first time. I made it back in early September (if you found this blog through the Sew Weekly, you may have seen it before).

Normally I’m someone who dives in, wings it, fixes along the way if necessary, and comes out of the creation process with something I like. Something that fits. Something that works.

Not so with this dress. I thought I’d be smart and really measure and really fit the pattern to my body, and so I ended up thinking I needed to lengthen the bodice (that’s the top part of the dress, for you non-seamstresses out there). But it turns out I must have done that all wrong. And I neglected to check the neckline while doing my alterations. So I ended up with something way too low-cut for comfort and bunchy around the torso to boot.

It went straight into the closet and I decided I would take the time to fix it later. Yeah, right.

Then Sunday morning I decided to finally wear it. I’ll wear it, I reasoned, so I can really get a feel for what needs to change. I put a light turquoise tank underneath to deal with the neckline problem and wore it to church.

I got a lot of compliments on it. No one noticed the flaws (except perhaps my close fellow seamstress friend who may have been wondering about the bizarre bodice issues). People loved the fabric (which I also adore and which is one of the reasons the fit issues were such a huge disappointment to me). They loved the pleats. They loved the whole package.

But as I received their kind comments I quickly told them about all the flaws I needed to address. Not being seamstresses, they all adopted a somewhat glazed over look in their eyes and were probably thinking, “Geez, Erin, I was just trying to give you a compliment.”

Not surprisingly, this whole experience got me to thinking about writing, editing, and sharing our work with others…

Lesson 1: We’re all our own worst critics. Well, unless we’re deluded. We see the flaws in our work that others do not. What we need to ask ourselves is whether we can be satisfied that others see beauty when we ourselves see something that’s almost-there-but-not-quite-yet.

Lesson 2: If you’re not happy with it, go ahead and work to make it exactly what you wanted. If it will continue to eat at you and keep you from confidently showing your work to the world, keep making it better. Go ahead. Indulge yourself in all those little edits. However, you may, like me, discover that you constructed your creation so well and so precisely that to fix it you have to do a lot of work and everything you alter will mean some other part needs to be altered as well. (This is why I like making clothes but not altering them.)

Lesson 3: At some point, you really just need to let go and let the thing be what it is. Sometimes the more we work on something the worse it really gets. I’ve worked a piece of clothing to death. I’ve probably worked over my first as-yet-unpublished novel almost to death. Sometimes you just have to call it quits and move on to something new.

Lesson 4: Don’t point out the flaws that have already gone unnoticed. It’s not humility. It’s false humility. It’s fishing for the other person’s comfort and reassurance (and more compliments). It’s giving you a chance to talk about yourself more. Just gracefully say thank you and move on to another subject, perhaps returning the compliment to them somehow.

Now then, where’s my seam ripper?

Banishing Clutter and Getting Your Literary World in Order

Posted on by Erin Bartels

32/40 bags in 40 daysToday I took a huge load of junk I don’t need to Goodwill. I filled my Explorer to the gills and then passed it all off on an unsuspecting lone worker who is on the front lines of the redistribution of stuff in this community. Every time I handed him yet more bags of stuff (32 in all on this trip) I could see his resolve strengthen a little bit. He would sort through my castaways if it was the last thing he ever did.

Other loads I’ve dealt with today: two of dishes, three of laundry, one of trash. And I have to tell you that it feels so good to walk out into the warm, sunny day (we actually hit the mid-40s in mid-Michigan today!) carrying out the stuff I don’t need.

It’s like editing. (You knew that was coming, didn’t you?) You go through your manuscript or article or story and find the useless stuff, the stuff that doesn’t help anyone, the stuff that you thought you’d use but that instead just ended up as unsightly clutter that distracts you from the real focal point.

What parts of your latest creation could use a good spring cleaning? Trust me, you’ll like your story better once you can get yourself to part with the unnecessary clutter.

Anticipation, Distraction, and Writing It All Out

Posted on by Erin Bartels

Waiting for DaffodilsMy distracted mind has not been on writing lately. It’s been on spring cleaning. It’s been on my son’s impending move from preschool to elementary school. It’s been on things I want very much to see clearly (and soon)–on the snow melting, on the sight of green leaves and yellow daffodils, on what the future may bring. It’s been on very physical things. No room in my brain right now for the mental work of writing.

Planning. Expectation. Preparation. Yearning. Possibilities. A desire I didn’t realize until it was spoken aloud. But that’s how writing works, too. Sometimes you don’t realize what you want to write about until you start writing about something else. If you’re not careful, you can write yourself into things you would never have expected.

Are you stumped about what to write about next? Don’t know which way to turn on the road of your life? Can’t see as far into the future as you would like?

Just write. Write yourself into a compelling story. Write yourself into a plan for dealing with what’s bugging you. Write out your dreams. Write the future you want. You just might get to know yourself better. You just might discover you have much more to say than you realized. You just might be able to re-distract your mind until the thing you anticipate has finally happened.

It’s March! And That Means I Have Something for You!

Posted on by Erin Bartels

I don’t know about you, but I’m super happy to leave February behind. We’ve gotten through a few winter storms, we’ve had some wonderful temperatures recently just above freezing, we’ve heard some beautiful birdsong around my house, and the sun made an appearance and I could actually feel it. Puts me in a springy mood.

Which is why I painted my bathroom a much lighter color.

Which is why I’m buying vegetable seeds even though I can’t plant most of them for a couple months.

Which is why I’m feeling pretty generous at the moment.

So here’s what I’m doing. I’m releasing March’s short story today (first day of the month!) and I’m making the first two short stories of 2013 absolutely free for a day! So if you missed the last freebie, take heart. This one’s for you…and for the promise of spring.

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You Owe Yourself a Writing Vacation

Posted on by Erin Bartels

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAI don’t know when the term “staycation” was coined, but since becoming a homeowner in the mid-2000s I have taken a good number of them, partly because I like my house and I like working to make it feel ever more like my ideal home, and partly because, having a house and family to take care of, we have no money for a “real” vacation.

Over the past few years, my husband and I have taken a couple staycations during which we did no painting, weeding, laundry, or dishes, but instead planted our butts on the couch, steadily fed the fireplace logs, and wrote. If you do this for a week and don’t allow yourself distractions (make sure your kids are in school) you can get an astonishing number of words out of your head and into your story.

This past weekend we did one better. We left everything–child, pets, chores, and, most importantly, any possibility of a wifi connection–and spent three days writing at a friend’s cottage on Gun Lake. We fed the fire. We made some simple meals. We did spend an hour or so at the casino one night (largely because we wanted ice cream and there’s a Cold Stone Creamery in there). We spent about ten minutes trying unsuccessfully to catch a bat that was flying around the living room one night (after it was clear that we wouldn’t catch him, we named him Briscoe and left him alone). Other than that, we were pretty much planted in two comfortable chairs a few feet from the fireplace with laptops open and fingers tapping away.

I started a short story Friday afternoon, finished it Saturday, had my husband read it and give feedback Saturday night, and had it ready to convert for Kindle on Sunday morning. During that time I also read most of the Gospel of Mark, and all of Luke and John. I also had plenty of time to stare mindlessly out the window at the frozen and snow covered lake. And here’s the thing: I didn’t miss anything.

When we returned to a place that had wifi and I checked my emails and looked at Facebook, I found that, though the world had gone on without me for a few days, it hadn’t gone very far. My retreat made a difference in the scheme of my writing life and my husband’s; we got some work done, we allowed ourselves some space to breathe and relax and be creative, we enjoyed each other’s company without needing to interrupt our thoughts to rationalize to our son our assertion that he had watched enough Ironman: Armored Adventures for one day. But our retreat didn’t stop the world from getting on with things (and things that, frankly, didn’t concern us in the least–like the Oscars).

If you have a day job and writing is a luxury, you need to take a weekend or a week here and there and take a writing vacation. Whether you stay at home (and can keep yourself from wasting time with keeping the place clean) or just get a hotel room in your own town or have a generous friend with a house on a lake and no Internet, you need to make the time. No one can take the time for you. No one cares about your writing in the way you can. And if you don’t make time for it, it won’t happen.

Now then, I have one more day I’ve taken off of work and it’s starting to get away from me. There are paint cans calling me down in the main floor bathroom and, since I’ve finished my story for next month, I think I will go answer their call.

As for you, get out your calendar, pick a day or two or ten, and write “Writing Vacation” there. Write it in pen.

A Symphony to Write By

Posted on by Erin Bartels

This is the soundtrack to my upcoming story for March, This Elegant Ruin.

I’ll be writing the bulk of it this weekend as my husband and I get away to a friend’s cottage. I imagine we’ll be huddled by the fireplace and the wood stove, happily typing away with no child and no pets and no responsibilities. A nice little writing vacation, something I highly encourage you to take if you are searching for concentrated time to write.

The Hardest Month to Dream

Posted on by Erin Bartels

Iced OverFebruary is a month during which we are tempted to dream of the future (probably because the present is so ugly and, frankly, we’re getting sick of it). Whether it’s limited to dreaming about the feel of the warm sun on bare arms and the smell of soil and grass and grilling meat, or if it’s that lake home you want to retire in, February gets us to dreaming. We imagine trips to far-off (warm) places. We think about the goals we have for our working life. We dream of a bigger house, a less stressful schedule, a few days to get caught up.

The cruel reality is that even while February causes us to dream it simultaneously works to crush our spirits, snatch those dreams away, and tell us they are impossible (or at least the timing isn’t quite right yet). The thermometer outside the kitchen window seems to mock our dreams of warmth. Our checkbook solemnly shakes its head when we look to it for some extra money for plane tickets. News of housing markets and job markets drags our dreams down until we realize we are where we are and we will go no further (for now).

February is a hard month in which to practice contentment. And yet, for many it is a time in which we are called to give up a little, to stop thinking so much about our outward selves (like what we have or don’t have, what we can do or can’t do) and focus on our inner selves (our besetting sins, our humble place in the order of things, our desperate need to be washed clean).

I already mentioned to you the 40 Bags in 40 Days thing that I and many others are doing during Lent. And I find as I go through things that I’ve saved (“because I might want to use that later for X, Y, or Z”) that I am an expert at packing away dreams for later. I keep a shelf or a table or a stool, even though I have no place for it in my house, because someday I might have a bigger house and more room and I’ll want it then. I keep books on crafts I will probably never do, as if no one will ever publish another book on the subject. I keep pots for plants I will never have in my house because they would just get eaten and regurgitated by my cat, but I keep them because they are pretty or were a gift.

I pack away all these tiny dreams. But sometimes, it’s best to just let those dreams float away. Sometimes dreams become burdensome. And I think that when they do, it’s a pretty sure sign that they are not the right dream for the time being.

Are there any “somedays” that are making you feel guilty for the procrastinating rather than joyful with anticipation? Any old dreams stuffed in your basement or attic that really ought to be set free? It’s never too early for physical or mental spring cleaning. Maybe it’s time to put on some grubby clothes and get to work clearing out those old dreams to make way for reality–and maybe for one worthy dream you’ll actually pursue.

Fenner Nature Center

Posted on by Erin Bartels

I know that all of you in Michigan must be suffering from some level of either Seasonal Affective Disorder or Cabin Fever (or quite possibly both). One of the best remedies for both of these ailments is to get out of the house and get some exercise. And what better place to do that than out in nature?

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Fenner Nature Center is one of two prominent nature centers in the Lansing area (the other, Woldumar, will be highlighted at another time). I spend most of my nature-walk time at Fenner because it is quite close to my house and the shorter walks are good for my 4-year-old’s short legs.

Walking at Fenner

Fenner Nature Center is located at the southeast corner of Aurelius and Mt. Hope, opposite Mt. Hope Cemetery. Besides showcasing a variety of natural habitats (including open meadows, ponds, wetlands, deciduous forests, and coniferous forests) Fenner has classes for children and adults, a great interactive learning center, a library, a gift shop, guided walks of all kinds, and special seasonal festivals, like the Maple Syrup Festival in March and the Apple Butter Festival in October.

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When we go to Fenner we usually make it a point to climb on boulders.

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We also spend a good deal of time looking for frogs…

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turtles…

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turkeys…

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and deer.

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Dragonflies, bees, and butterflies abound, as do many types of songbirds.

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It is beautiful and walkable in all seasons…

Spring

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Summer

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Autumn

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Winter

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But I think autumn is probably my personal favorite.

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The Stuff We Keep and the Stuff We Give Away

Posted on by Erin Bartels

Today marks the beginning of a season of self-examination and repentance for billions of believers worldwide. Some give up meat or coffee or social media in order to deny themselves, recenter their minds and hearts on Christ, and prompt them to pray.

I’ve given up various things over the years: sleeping in, Facebook, cream and sugar in my coffee. I’ve also added various things: one year I read the four Gospels, another year I made a conscious effort to do something for others every day, whether that was doing the dishes and laundry for my family or writing a note to a friend who needed encouragement.

This year I’m doing both. I will be reading the entire New Testament in the mornings. In the evenings I will be filling 40 grocery bags with stuff to give away, recycle, or trash. I will be attempting to do this sacrificially, not just getting rid of junk we don’t need cluttering up the basement or under the bed, but truly examining each room, each closet, each cupboard and removing things that are simply unnecessary to life–the stuff that takes up the time, thought, and space that could be better put to use in service to other people and to God.

One of the reasons I made this decision was due to a couple I met on Sunday. This man and woman were looking for a new start away from some bad influences from their past. They wanted help from our church to get one way tickets to another city where there is a homeless shelter that accepts married couples (most are men or women only). My husband and I took them out to lunch and heard more of their story. He had been in prison for 20 years during which he turned his life over to Christ, got clean, and got an education. She became his pen pal. They got married. He was released. Things didn’t go smoothly and their living situation became untenable. So they needed a new start.

After lunch, we took them to the bus station, bought their Greyhound tickets with church money set aside for such ministry, and watched as they packed all of their earthly possessions (two rolling suitcases and two shoulder bags full of clothes and toiletries) into a bus and left for a fresh start at life. Two suitcases and two carry-on bags. That’s it. We needed two moving trucks seven years ago when we moved to Lansing and have been accumulating ever since.

Not for the first time, I felt ashamed of all the stuff I have in the house that I never use and don’t need. How much money have I spent on things I don’t need? How much better could I use my time than having to keep all that stuff clean and organized?

So while I fill my 40 bags during the 40 days of Lent, I will remember this couple and pray for their future. I will pray for contentment with what I have and that the desire for more would be removed from my heart. I will pray for the people who will eventually get my stuff, that they would put it to good use and not just shove it in a drawer or cupboard like I did.

(Confession time: I actually couldn’t keep myself from starting a day early so I already have FIVE BAGS from ONE ROOM.)

I may also reread this excellent and very convicting (and freeing) book:

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What in your life needs to be weeded out? Are you giving your time and energy to worthy pursuits? Or are you filling up your house with stuff you don’t need (and sometimes don’t even really want)? How would your life be different if you let go of a goodly portion of your earthly possessions?

It’s a tantalizing question.