In Praise of the Two-Yard Skirt

Throughout my life, I have been compelled to create things. I can’t explain it. I always have been. Here is a short (and hopefully humorous) list of things I have been drawn to create in my life so far:

• A fleece hat for my father. It was far too large, but he wore that thing for over 20 years. Usually over his baseball hat. It was a look. It made sense in New Hampshire.

• A very ornate vest made of the finest wools. All bobbles and crossovers. I slaved over it for weeks in my college dorm room as a form of procrastination, and when I finally finished and wore it proudly to dinner in the cafeteria one night, a cute boy said, “Where did you get that bulletproof vest?” Reader, I never wore the beautiful thing again.

• A fleece quilt, made in college, and I did not have the internet at that time to teach me about quilt layers and design. I simply took matters into my own hands and broke the sewing machine with the thick, bulky fabrics. Had to finish by hand. Still, we used that blanket as a sofa throw for years.

• Much later, I had my son around the time that the iPad entered the world. And so, on those sleepless nights, I watched videos on how to make a proper quilt, and I made several for friends and their babies, until I broke another sewing machine. This is a theme, perhaps something to interrogate further.

None of these home-made items was a necessity, and each was deeply flawed, but I will continue making things just the same. And specifically creating things in the face of all practical advice to the contrary. I have a graduate degree in business! I am steeped in the dogma of American consumerist culture! Creative destruction! Shareholder value! I’m an executive, gosh darn it, or was for rather a long time.

And yet, here I am, teaching myself to make potholders with little cotton scrunchy loops that cost far too much just for the raw materials. The only explanation I can come up with is that making things, even very flawed ones, satisfies a primal urge, a need in my soul, to complete an additive task. Not a chore, like folding laundry, but an activity that creates something new. To sew an ill-fitting, two-yard skirt in an afternoon, and wear it proudly to dinner.

I want to swim in the waters of memory, creativity, and meaning. I aim to do this through writing, art, and making things. I am feeling my way forward in the darkness with every crafty project, journal entry, Instagram post, YouTube video, and Substack email. Perhaps you are on a similar journey. Out doing things and some days wondering, why?

This month, I have been leading a Creativity Reset. It was a deliberate choice. I needed something to shake up my practice, generate prompts for writing and art-making, and do it with a community — both here and on YouTube. And I will say that doing this kind of intensive program is motivating for me. On days when I felt less motivated, I still produced something, even if it was just responding to comments and posts on my community pages, because I didn’t want to let anyone down. Accountability, check.

So, as I figure it out with you all reading along, commenting, documenting, and sharing your own extraordinary lives, here are some things I have discovered so far from the creativity reset and the journey I am on:

1. Just the idea of a reset changed something in my mind. I’ve kept a journal for over 40 years, as many of you know, but even I, who always have something to write, found that this new lens or framing gave me a little burst of energy. It felt fun. Charged. Open to trying just about anything. And it still feels that way.

2. Memory Drives Creativity. For me, anyway. I really love barnstorming through the years in my photo library and finding visual gems from long ago. I have scanned quite a lot of my father’s slides, and I am that relative, you know the one: the one who takes all the pictures, and annoys everyone, until the link to the shared album circulates, and then everyone is so happy to have the photos! It’s fine, I enjoy that role. And I love using memory to drive journal entries, Substack posts, videos, and art-making. Exploring heritage patterns in textiles and ceramics touches something in my soul. Even abstract art can have layered and profound meaning.

3. Protect Your Mental Health for When You Really Need It. Several people wrote lovely apologetic notes about being behind or skipping a day or two. Please let that worry go immediately. These prompts will be here for a very long time.

   More importantly, I don’t think creativity should become another thing we use to judge ourselves. Life is already hard enough. One reason I journal, make art, read, and keep these kinds of practices alive is that they help me navigate the harder chapters when they inevitably arrive. Grief. Caregiving. Uncertainty. Loss. This practice has helped me build a more resilient life that can contain all of those experiences—and still thrive. Save your energy for the things that truly require worrying.

4. I liked the physicality of completing a dedicated notebook. The completed book is like a really great party favor or goody bag—more importantly, it feels a little like a portfolio. Though perhaps setting out to do that would be at odds with my ‘messy and fearless’ attitude towards the process. Still, if you were to glance through it, I think you would have a nice overview of my style. What is style after all, but a consistent representation of your work, the way that you complete it again and again? Through daily practice. Having a physical artifact of that effort feels meaningful to me. I hope it does to you as well.

5. Don’t let logistics hold you down. Let’s get this out of the way right now: It was not a perfect month tech-wise. Oh, the embarrassment of that second live stream! And when I had to get up and deal with the dog freaking out in the third one! Still, I am nothing if not persistent! I have what they call grit. So I will continue on this path until we reach the end. My apologies to anyone who struggled with the comments mechanism on SubStack and YouTube (me too, same). But still, I think what we have been doing here, however flawed each individual component may be, has added up to something extraordinary. Life can send you all kinds of distractions: let’s make things anyway.

6. Which brings me to my final thought: I am happiest when I am making things. Maybe, if you are still reading, you are too. And in that case, welcome. I am so thrilled that we are on this journey together. I am not sure what comes next, but this chapter was a true banger.

Okay, so now that I have shared my darkest secrets, I’d love to hear what, if anything, you took away from the reset experience. Did you discover new books, art techniques, or ideas from other journalers? Did you master a new kind of pen, or invite a dear old friend to progress through the prompts together? Did you do three prompts and plan to save the rest for when you have more time (like Thanksgiving? Ha. I see you!)? Did you make a list of new hobbies to try, like, perhaps, making a potholder for every family member this holiday season? Or perhaps take a stab at sewing a two-yard skirt? Sad to report that Joann’s is no longer, but you could still hit your local fabric store and maybe get this done before dinner…

As always, thank you so much for reading! I know your time is precious, and that what we do is how we spend our days, and how we spend our days is how we spend our lives. I am thankful to spend even a little bit of mine with you.

Amanda

P.S. A link to the first week of prompts if you are new to this idea.