Grid Size:70W x 101H
Design Area:4.86″ x 7.07″ (68 x 99 stitches)
One of my Patrons, Jesika Okerson, is a sentient forest. Jesika knows all that happens under their leaves and the townsfolk nearby have learned how to send messages through the trees faster than any horse or bird. In exchange, they’ve promised to never use any trees in the Okerson Forest for firewood.
When I started this site, I thought that the hardest part would be making the patterns, but now that I’ve been going at this for a while, my pattern making skills have improved. Now the hardest part is the writing bit.
It’s hard for me to consider myself a writer, like someone who writes for a living. In these #tryingtimes I’ve been living off of savings. This blog I started as a way of documenting some patterns I made has unexpectedly become my one source of income.
I am writing for a living and that is bizarre.
Like really bizarre. I have this image in my head where writers are people with books that they set on the podium as they deliver a seminar at a convention. Writers are people who meet up in coffee shops to discus their newest poetry. Writers are people with booths and signing schedules. In my head, a writer is someone very different from who I am right now.
But when it comes down to it, a writer is just a person who writes.
I am a writer.
But still there’s a part of me who thinks that if I claim this title then I am somehow cheapening the word. If someone like me is a writer then where is the line? Is a person who sends a lot of business emails a writer? Is someone who makes a lot of Youtube comments a writer? If being a writer just boils down to how many words you’ve published, then Donald Trump’s tweets make him a prolific author.
I think about how people’s letters from the 18th century have been published into books, and I wonder if in so many years, everything I’ve written here will become historical nonfiction.
Hello person from the distant future, planned obsolescence was a terrible idea and I hope you’ve banned that nonsense by now.