Of Writing and Knitting
I've been trying to think of a topic to blog about for a while now,
I hated the blog space on my profile looking so empty and
sad.
So here goes.
One of my favourite writing quotes ever comes from Nick Hornby:
Coming up against the hard realities of the sheer graft involved in writing a novel made me think more seriously about the pursuit of writing. Now, I have two main creative outlets in my life at the moment: writing, and knitting. In many ways the two pursuits share certain similarities: for one, both have a romantic-ish image (I'm thinking of grandmothers knitting on television, montages of writers scribbling away in films) that belie the work involved in actually undertaking a major project. Nobody tells you about the callouses you develop from writing for four hours straight, or the cramps in your hands after sitting and knitting all evening. Both types of project need (for me at any rate) to start out with a pattern (no bag I ever attempted to knit without knowing what I needed to do ended up right; and no story either), and they take dedication (no matter how hard I try to make them, neither type of project will finish themselves).
Of course, knitting doesn't demand anything like the same mental energies that writing does (indeed its rather an escape from all that) and fixing a dropped stitch is much easier than sewing up a gaping plot hole.
But most importantly, if you apply yourself to both kinds of project the satisfaction on completion is immense. I'm looking now at a bag I finished knitting recently - and yes, whilst I can see its many imperfections and know it would never sell in a shop, I love it, because when I look at it I can see the many hours it took to make it, I can almost feel the residual ache in my hands. I made this - I think to myself, and there's always a certain wonder involved in the act of creation. And although my "novel" isn't anywhere near completion, even when I look back over the chapters I have polished up fairly well I get the same kind of feeling - that joy in knowing that, whatever its shortcomings, I made a story, where previously there was only a blank page or screen.
And perhaps, as much as anything, this is why I will continue to write, despite discovering that its not as easy as it looks, that its time consuming and frustrating and you sometimes want to forget that blooming character and get some sleep. Because whether its in knitting or writing I think I might just be addicted to that little thrill of creation.
So here goes.
One of my favourite writing quotes ever comes from Nick Hornby:
"I always presumed I would be a writer without actually doing any writing. I think I thought I was going to get a phone call from somebody one day saying they had a vacancy for a novelist. When I realised that this wasn't going to happen I decided it was about time to do something"This is the kind of problematic mindset that I have suffered from for years. Believing that I was a "writer" without very much writing to actually show for it. In fact reading this quote six months or so ago kind of made something click for me - and sent me diving into my notebook, my rather thin pile of short stories and off to my desk - where I've started writing "properly" for the first time in years.
Coming up against the hard realities of the sheer graft involved in writing a novel made me think more seriously about the pursuit of writing. Now, I have two main creative outlets in my life at the moment: writing, and knitting. In many ways the two pursuits share certain similarities: for one, both have a romantic-ish image (I'm thinking of grandmothers knitting on television, montages of writers scribbling away in films) that belie the work involved in actually undertaking a major project. Nobody tells you about the callouses you develop from writing for four hours straight, or the cramps in your hands after sitting and knitting all evening. Both types of project need (for me at any rate) to start out with a pattern (no bag I ever attempted to knit without knowing what I needed to do ended up right; and no story either), and they take dedication (no matter how hard I try to make them, neither type of project will finish themselves).
Of course, knitting doesn't demand anything like the same mental energies that writing does (indeed its rather an escape from all that) and fixing a dropped stitch is much easier than sewing up a gaping plot hole.
But most importantly, if you apply yourself to both kinds of project the satisfaction on completion is immense. I'm looking now at a bag I finished knitting recently - and yes, whilst I can see its many imperfections and know it would never sell in a shop, I love it, because when I look at it I can see the many hours it took to make it, I can almost feel the residual ache in my hands. I made this - I think to myself, and there's always a certain wonder involved in the act of creation. And although my "novel" isn't anywhere near completion, even when I look back over the chapters I have polished up fairly well I get the same kind of feeling - that joy in knowing that, whatever its shortcomings, I made a story, where previously there was only a blank page or screen.
And perhaps, as much as anything, this is why I will continue to write, despite discovering that its not as easy as it looks, that its time consuming and frustrating and you sometimes want to forget that blooming character and get some sleep. Because whether its in knitting or writing I think I might just be addicted to that little thrill of creation.
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