My Patchwork Writing Process
I've been writing novels for more than twenty years now—CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT?—but there is always more to learn about the craft, and more to observe of one's natural inclinations. This is how and why I do what I do. Here are some ways I might fine-tune a particular step in my process—for greater "efficiency," yes, but also for greater enjoyment.
As I listened to the audio modules inside my dear friend Heather Demetrios's new on-demand course, You Have a Process, it occurred to me that while I've spent plenty of time charting out my idea-generation process—on YouTube and inside The Bright Idea Kit—I haven't reflected too much on the actual drafting, which is far and away the most intimidating part from most aspiring writers' point of view. If you'd asked about my first-drafting style before going through You Have a Process, this is what I'd've told you:
I bring piles of handwritten notes to the Scrivener document. I don't write in chronological order. Usually I'll write fifty pages or so and then I'll outline the entire book. At the end of a writing session, I try to have a kernel of a scene to start with the next day—something I'm excited to dictate into Scrivener as I'm watching it play out in my head. Maybe eighty percent of the time I slip into flow within minutes, the other 20% being tooth-pulling days, but I don't get down on myself. Doing yoga, going for a walk, taking a shower, cooking dinner, or working on an easy knitting or sewing project helps with a mild case of creative constipation (because I don't experience "block," per se—not anymore). Whatever isn't quite coming together, the solution generally slides in at an oblique angle (i.e., it has nothing to do with whatever is in front of me, but it shows up because mentally I've cleared the space for it.)
This is all true, but it's not as specific (and therefore as helpful for other writers) as it could be.
From the beginning I understood that many (if not a majority of) writers draft their stories in chronological order, and it didn't seem like a problem that I never felt inclined to write that way. In my initial drafting phase, I sit down to write whichever scenes I feel like. I'm only 30% of the way through my first draft of the time-travel novel, but I've already written a pivotal conversation that happens in the last chapter. At some point as I was listening to my friend's warm and reassuring voice coming out of my bedside speaker, I had the most delicious little a-ha moment:
I draft a novel in much the same way I cut and assemble a piece of patchwork!
It's been a long time since I've blogged about my crafting—I have a baby-quilt show-and-tell post from 2019 still languishing in my drafts—though I have shared more on Instagram in this video on creative cross-pollination and this one on "avocational ambition." (Those are YouTube links, in case you don't have an Instagram account.)
Baby quilt for my cousin Jenni, 2019.
The most basic definition of patchwork is cutting large pieces of fabric (usually quilting cotton) into smaller—sometimes very small—pieces, rearranging and then stitching them into a visually pleasing design. Sometimes it's traditional and perfectly geometric and other times (as in "crazy" or crumb quilting) you're making it up as you go. It's not a perfect analogy, but for me it's an illuminating one: because in both disciplines I generate purposeful fragments—discrete moments of connection or observation or insight, without thinking too much about context or finishing—and after months of working in this fashion, I can arrange those many pieces into a sensible order and add the necessary "sashing" so that each scene continues "seamlessly" (har, har) into the next.
My first curved piecing (2018).
Slowly coming together...
Arranging and adding the sashing.
To mix our metaphors here, what I'm calling "sashing" is what many writing teachers would refer to as "connective tissue." In a particular chapter, I might have 60% of scene A, only a half-finished dialogue from scene B, and a scene C that is more or less complete. Because I have my outline by this stage—my self-drafted pattern, in needlework parlance—I mostly know what more is needed in scene A, how to get the characters to the point that they are having the conversation in scene B, and how to segue into scene C. There are still question marks here and there, particularly where the science (or "science") is concerned, or more historical research is required, but as I proceed from here I have every confidence that I will eventually gather the information I need to fill those lacunae.
In essence, I compose my first draft in two stages: there is the initial draft-whatever-I-please, cutting-up-calico-into-itty-bitty-pieces phase, and then there is the arrangement and assembly/filling-in phase. Both are enjoyable, but the second phase is more consistently so because I already have a large bank of material to work with. It's easier to compose a line that sings—a sentence I can feel proud of—if it's closing out a scene I half-drafted three months earlier.
Amazing, isn't it, how long it's taken me to notice just how process-oriented and low-pressure my natural method of drafting truly is! (And of course now I'm thinking about how I can demonstrate using actual writing samples—that'll eventually be a video inside the Bright Idea Kit. I'll include photos from my crumb-quilting, which is an even tidier analogy!)
[EDIT, November 2023: my Teachable courses are no longer available (I gotta cough up to keep them live, and I don’t have the bandwidth for marketing right now), but I will make it available inside my Resource Library; subscribe to email updates to snag the password.]
Hot water bottle cover for my friend Joelle.
The Power of Private Writing is LIVE!
This free workshop is for email subscribers, so sign on up if you haven't already and you'll get the links in your welcome email! 🙌
Comet Party Summer School: the Vision Statement
What are the two most powerful words in this or any language?
I am.
I’ve been thinking about this ever since Jill Louise Busby dropped me a DM after reading Life Without Envy. Thank you for being a vessel, she wrote.
I am a vessel, I thought. I said it out loud. And the more I said it, the righter it felt.
In the beginning, I only wanted to tell stories. I wanted to be clever and I wanted to be recognized for my cleverness. The other day I cracked a journal I kept in 2007, scanned one entry, and felt a sweet surge of relief that I am not that person anymore. (This is why I keep my notebooks.)
The evolution out of a desire to prove oneself into a desire to contribute is the central tenet of Life Without Envy, and for me that first twinkling happened in the summer and early autumn of 2010 when I volunteered on my friends’ homestead farm in Vermont. I have never been quite so content as I was those days I spent planting and weeding and watering, sleeping in a platform tent, rising before six to watch the sun coming up over the treeline as the fog withdrew from the rolling meadow before me. Best of all were the people: Gail and Paul and their neighbors, their daughters, and my fellow volunteers. That summer we all felt like Gail and Paul’s brood. Nature + making myself useful + community as close as family, that’s all I need to be happy.
The meadow at Harmony Homestead Farm.
My experiences at Sadhana Forest and Squam Art Workshops the following year brought the new desire into focus: more nature, more community, plus ethical veganism, art, and handicrafts. At Sadhana Forest I helped with meal planning and prep for something like 35 to 45 people, and I became my grandmother’s granddaughter (more fully than ever before) even though the cuisine couldn’t have been more different than the lasagnas and salmon loaf of my childhood: food is one of my love languages. It’s how I love my family and friends, it’s how I love myself, and it’s how I express care and concern for people I don’t know all that well yet. And I loved the feeling of being at sleep-away camp and making beautiful things alongside new friends who had also come to make beautiful things and bask in the tranquility of Squam Lake.
I thought of how one of my grade-school friends had gone to music camp every summer; I remembered the name of the organization, so I Googled it, curious as to how much it cost. Well, I don’t know how much it was back in 1995, but in 2013 it was $8,000 for a six-week program. I started to think, wouldn’t it be great if kids (whose parents could never afford a typical sleep-away camp) could have an experience like Squam? And what about kids who didn’t have parents to come home to?
I’ve been to Squam many times now—as student, teacher, and staff—and each time it bothered me how white and upper-middle-class we were as a group. More recently, Elizabeth has done a wonderful job of highlighting and supporting the work of artists, artisans, and teachers of color, but the economic inequities remain; I’m sure many knitters would love to spend four days taking classes at a lakeside cabin but will likely never have that $1,400 to spare.
On one trip I stopped at the general store in Holderness and found a rack of greeting cards with quotes attributed to Rumi: “Live your life as if the universe is rigged in your favor…because it is.” I had a flashback to a church my family and I visited above Lake Kivu in Rwanda, where 11,000 people were murdered during the genocide. Slavery, lynchings, civilian casualties. I felt this fury any time somebody brought up the Law of Attraction. The universe is rigged in your favor: this was a message appropriated by and intended solely for privileged white women like me.
I met Rachael Rice at Squam in 2014, and I referenced her excellent blog post in Email Marketing and "Authenticity," but the message is too important not to share again here:
“Can we imagine the impact of our work beyond those who can afford it?”
Nowadays the summer camp in my mind is primarily for grownups—at least to start with—purely for logistical reasons. During quiet afternoons at the Providence Athenaeum I would dream of a library in the forest with cozy carrels where writers of all stripes and sensibilities could focus on their manuscripts. Everyone would see themselves represented on the shelves in this library. Attendees who could afford to pay for their retreat-time would subsidize those who could not; or maybe it would be a pay-what-you-can model? Filling vegan lunches packed with care, just like the ones that fueled the Bones & All revision at Hawthornden. Childcare. Hammocks and more hammocks, hammocks everywhere, and a home-sewn quilt on every bed. Writing workshops, painting and drumming workshops, workshops on foraging and herbalism and anything else people want to learn about. Safe spaces for members of marginalized communities to come together (“safe” meaning that every soul in the place understands why “no white people in this room for the next two hours” is not racist). A food forest. A swimming pool. Campfires and jam sessions. Tiny houses, perhaps—though after reading Sunaura Taylor’s wonderful book Beasts of Burden, these spaces I was dreaming of became ADA-compliant. And because white saviorism is something else I’ve been thinking about a lot, I saw myself asking, What do you actually want and need? How can I help make it happen and then leave you to use and enjoy it?
Every day—up until just a few months ago—I’d been asking myself, how the heck am I going to get from here—making next to no money off my writing at the moment, without much saved—to there, that pretty plot of acres with architectural blueprints in hand?
I’m not sure what’s shifted, exactly, I just know that I don’t need a bridge, I AM the bridge. I’ll bring this retreat into being one plank at a time. The workshops? I can make those happen now. That’s why I wanted to publish this post on the day I launch The Bright Idea Kit and finally hang my shingle as a writing coach. The course is a $200 investment and coaching is $100 an hour, perhaps a tad ironic given the vision I’ve just shared with you, but I’ve poured all of my twenty years of experience into this class and I’m feeling confident that it’s going to catalyze a lot of creative awakenings. In terms of walking my talk, I am making myself informally available for aspiring writers who can use the mentorship, and I’ll allot more bandwidth (creating an actual program, perhaps?) as I get myself sorted financially. I'll also be hosting free workshops starting later on in 2021 (first up: the power and potential of private writing!)
I see myself—white hair, liver-spotted hands—working away in one of those carrels. I am a writer. But my greater work for this lifetime is to “take up space” by holding space for others, to create a warm, welcoming retreat and inhabit it for the rest of my life without ever claiming it as mine.
If you’d like to be a part of this community (virtually for now and eventually IRL), you can join my mailing list to watch it all unfold and participate as much as you feel like. Thank you for reading this, and I wish you a healthy, joyful, and fulfilling 2021! ✨
EDIT: Adding the link to Be Seen Project founder Mindy Tsonas Choi's relevant and insightful piece from March 2021, "The Cost of Selling Belonging."
A Bright Clean Mind Corrections and Clarifications (Please Comment Below!)
My new book on veganism and creativity will be out in the world very shortly, and as I line up promotional whatnots I've been thinking a lot about something author Maya Gottfried said in our conversation that appears on pages 226-229:
Even as vegans we’re not perfect—a book we write that’s totally vegan may not be reflective of other values we develop in the future, and it’s always going to be that way. We just have to acknowledge that things have changed and move on from there.
I have made mistakes in this book—I have no doubt of it!—but at a certain point a writer has to know when to let go. I'm publishing this post to acknowledge the issues I've already spotted (and will add to this as needed), and also to create a space for readers to articulate any questions or concerns they may have. If you have any constructive feedback to offer, I prefer that you offer it here, publicly, so that other readers can benefit from your perspective and reply with any reactions you may inspire. (Please note that I will not approve or respond to any anti-vegan defensiveness, no matter how subtly you manage to articulate your hostility. Arguing with you is not a productive use of my time.) Thank you in advance for your input!
Future "transparency reports" will serve a different function: reporting the amounts I've been able to donate to animal rights and vegan social/food justice organizations (20% total from each royalty check, a different charity or charities each time).
[Update, Fall 2022: unfortunately I still don't have any earnings to report, but I remain optimistic that this book will eventually find a broader audience!]
If you've arrived at this page because I have referenced your work in A Bright Clean Mind—whether you are vegan or "future-vegan"—I would be glad to send you a copy. Email me with your address.
Now on to the corrections and clarifications:
A Note on the Illustrations
I am not happy with the print quality—it does not do right by the artists—but there is nothing I can do about this beyond requiring a QC safeguard in all future publishing contracts for illustrated books.
Recalibrating Your Language
I ought to have included the singular “they” in this callout. My apologies for the cisgender brain blip!
FOMO or Faux Moo?
After I turned in the manuscript I found out that according to the Food Empowerment Project, FoMu does not use Fair-Trade chocolate. (If you click here you’ll see them listed under “Cannot recommend but at least responded”). I decided not to cut the chapter because I believe the message outweighs my embarrassing hypocrisy. I emailed the owners to ask for an explanation, but they never replied.
To Learn Something is to Lose Something
I am disgusted by J.K. Rowling's transphobia and will be rewriting this chapter in the event of a revised edition.
Jane O'Hara
When you check out Jane O'Hara's Sacrifice on page 109 (click here to see it properly), do note that her Instagram handle is now @janeoharaprojects.
Where's Wilbur?
It didn't make sense to mention this within the chapter (it would fall under "TMI" even as a postscript), but I would like to clarify that after I wrote it Chrissy and I decided we'd both be happier not being friends, and as a result I am no longer volunteering at either Maple Farm Sanctuary or Unity Sanctuary. To the best of my recollection I volunteered four or five times total, which isn't much, I know, but I hope to volunteer again at these or other farm animal sanctuaries when I eventually have my own car (getting there by public transportation just isn’t realistic, alas).
"Vegan for the Future"
I'm embarrassed to have drawn upon Shaw's exploration of Nietzsche's Übermensch without acknowledging the eugenics connection. This failure is inexcusable, and of all the items on this list it's the revision I'm most anxious to make.
Also, my friend Steve tells me "vegan for the future" does not make sense given the animal-centered definition of veganism, but I don't see why I can't be "vegan for the future" as long as I am also for animal rights. (Otherwise, yes, one would be eating a plant-based diet as "an environmentalist for the future.")
The Back Cover
Especially-careful readers will note that sixteen vegan artists have been interviewed in this book, not fifteen. We caught the error too late not to delay printing, but it will be corrected in the event of a reprint.
A Bright Clean Mind preorder bonus!
Oh, hello! I've had a knitting-and-sewing post sitting almost-finished in my draft folder for ages, and I will get to that soon—in the meantime here's an excerpt from and fun little preorder bonus for my next book, A Bright Clean Mind: Veganism for Creative Transformation:
A Forest on My Shoulders
Oh, hello! It's been a long time since I've blogged about a craft project, so I do have a bit of a backlog. (Also, how wild is it that this blog is over TEN YEARS OLD?!?) There's a chapter in my next book about making my own clothes, so I really needed a good pic of my most recent FO: a lace shawl in Vegan Yarn Albireo, a fingering-weight blend of bamboo and organic cotton. The color thrills me to the bottom of my soul!
My friend Dan and I spent the day in Newport recently, and he was kind enough to take these photos on the cliff walk. Newport is one of those places you've got to admit is deservedly touristy. We did a lot of browsing in the shops (including an antiques mall in an old armory), paused for a round of delicious cocktails, drove by the Newport mansions on Ocean Drive, and wept and gnashed our teeth when we discovered a local vegan restaurant had closed.
I used to think shawls were old fashioned in a way that wouldn't work for me, but after seeing so many beautiful ones at Squam and online over the years, I eventually changed my mind. I wanted a garment I could feel embraced by, and I don't care if that sounds corny. A shawl is perfect for a cool summer evening, and in the fall and winter you can wear it more like a scarf.
A few project notes: I don't necessarily recommend the pattern I used even though it's a nice mix of easy lace and even easier garter, because if you're going to charge for a pattern like this (and you should, don't get me wrong), you need to include stitch counts. That's just basic. Thank goodness another Raveler took the time to count and write them out! And of course, the yarn was an absolute dream from start to finish. (I adore Heidi so much I've interviewed her for A Bright Clean Mind.) For full details, see my Ravelry project page.
Still need to identify this plant! [Edit: a kind reader informed me that it is Canadian goldenrod.]
Compassionate Creativity Beta Coaching FAQ
When I announced that I'd be offering a creativity coaching beta program early next year, several lovely people replied to communicate their interest. I'm going to keep this group small so I can give you more bandwidth, and so that you guys can actively learn from and inspire each other. Here's what you can expect from this six-week program beginning Monday, January 8th:
weekly presentations followed by Q&A and informal group discussion (75-90 minutes total; if you can't attend live, you can watch the replay any time)
fun assignments to integrate each module, usually a combination of journaling exercises, worksheets, and trying something new (in or outside the kitchen)
Recipe roundups based on you and your family's preferences and needs, meal planning resources, and personalized suggested reading lists
a private Facebook group to make it easy to share questions, experiences, and resources with your cohort
Now it's time to tell you "the catch"—it's the awesomest catch ever, though. In order to participate in this six-week program, I'll ask you to commit to a vegan diet (or as close to it as you possibly can) for the duration. I experienced the most amazing boost in productivity that has continued uninterrupted since the day I went vegan (going on seven years ago), so I can tell you that adopting a more compassionate diet will enhance your creative output and outlook big time.
Got questions?
What does my diet have to do with my creativity?
Apply to the program and find out! Seriously, though, I'll explain this in my first presentation. In the meantime, read this post and watch this video of slam poet Saul Williams explaining why he required his students at Stanford to eat vegetarian for the semester.
I'm really interested in trying out a plant-based diet, but what happens if I cave and eat a slice of my mother's meatloaf? Will you kick me out of the program?
I will not. Let me tell you about my friend Teri, who set a goal of eating vegan during the week we spent at Rockywold-Deephaven Camps on Squam Lake in New Hampshire, eating three meals a day in the dining hall. At one point she articulated that she was so tempted by the macaroons on the dessert table (which were made with egg whites) she didn't think she'd be able to resist, and I said, "If it's between eating the macaroon, feeling guilty, then going back to eating meat and dairy, and eating the macaroon and returning to eating vegan at breakfast tomorrow, then go for option #2." I haven't felt a single craving for non-vegan food since I stopped eating eggs and dairy almost seven years ago, but I do understand that for many people, "weaning" oneself off animal products is the more sustainable method. I simply ask that you make a good-faith effort. I'll provide you with all the resources and support you need (unless you need official nutritional or medical advice, which I am not qualified to give you, though I can refer you to someone who is.)
Can't I just try Meatless Mondays, to start with?
I totally acknowledge that going vegan won't be as seamless a transition for everyone as it was for me. That said, it is much too easy to bolster our current habits and worldview with a framework of self-reinforcing excuses. I'm looking for a six-week good-faith commitment from you. If you embarked on a new relationship, you probably wouldn't say, "but I can date other people while you're at your bowling league on Wednesday nights, right?" If you started an exercise regimen, you wouldn't work out once or twice a week and sit on the sofa eating junk food all the other nights, would you?
If you're feeling more stressed than excited at the prospect of going plant based, then it's probably safe to say you're not ready for this. Don't worry, I will offer some version of this program again, and in the meantime, remember that every resource you could ever need is literally at your fingertips. Google "vegan 101" or "easy vegan recipes." When you throw up your hands and say "this is just too complicated," notice how you are buying into one of the narratives of mainstream carnist culture. The livestock, dairy, and pharmaceutical industries profit from you eating the same foods you always have.
This program sounds like a lot of work for you. Why is it free?
I received a vegan lifestyle coach certification back in 2013, but for the past four-plus years I've been focused on book projects. Now I'm finally ready to move into this new phase of my professional life! By participating in this beta program, you're helping me hone my content for future (paid) programs as well as a book I'm writing about veganism and creativity. Some testimonials will be nice to have, too!
I'm already vegan. Can I still participate? Yes! While this program is geared toward making veganism feel do-able for (current) omnivores by exploring the creative benefits of compassionate eating, it'll still be helpful for current vegans in terms of moving through creative blocks, creating a solid foundation for a new artistic practice, or adding another dimension to your animal-rights advocacy work. And your knowledge and insight will prove invaluable to everyone else in the program.
Want in? Look for the application link in the email update I'll be sending on Monday morning (December 11th).
Email Marketing and "Authenticity"
The notion of marketing myself and my work really squicks me out. I regularly entertain fantasies of reverting to my dumbphone, dismantling my website, and living in a cabin in the woods with a kitchen garden and a 19th-century water pump. No more social media. If you find my work, great; if not, oh well, it wasn't meant to be. I don't need to be a bestselling author, somebody with "clout"—it only matters that I'm using what I've been given in a way that feels authentic....Right?
This mindset is problematic for several reasons. First, of course, it espouses a sort of reverse-snobbery, as if every person making a living using social media has had to "sell out" for the privilege of working at home in their pajamas whenever they feel like it. Sure, lots of people have sold out. But there are also plenty of people who are using new platforms and technologies to share a useful and inspiring message, and we discount their efforts when we point only to those who are using manipulative marketing techniques to sell and up-sell their coaching packages, online courses, et cetera.
Secondly, it is very possible to skip out on undertaking one's Scary-Big Work under the guise of humility. That is essentially what I am doing when I say I don't want to collect anybody's email addresses, I don't want to network, I don't want to promote or sell something people don't want or need. Not only am I "playing small," but I am preemptively dropping out on those who could actually benefit from my experience and insight—and that includes people who haven't been born yet.
I can talk about not hiding my light under a bushel, but I'm only one of many people I poop out on when I engage in cowardice-masquerading-as-modesty. This is not the same kind of pretension you see in Facebook and Instagram ads in which entrepreneurs brag about making a six- or seven-figure income online—creating an enviable persona to get people to sign up in hopes of getting what they think you've got—but it is a pretension nonetheless.
So enough of all that. I'm giving myself permission to state my desires, loud and clear:
I want to inspire people to grow into the most fulfilled, most vibrant, most loving versions of themselves.
I want to help my students expand their capabilities: their literacy, their creativity, their compassion for all creatures.
I want to cultivate joy in the hearts of everyone I meet, in person and online.
And yes, I want to make a comfortable* living doing it—every cent exceeding "comfortable" funneled directly into hands-on philanthropic projects. As artist and creative consultant Rachael Rice writes, "Can we imagine the impact of our work beyond those who can afford it?"**
That is my dream. And to live my way into it, I'll need to use the Internet with integrity (which I already know how to do!) and without false humility (which I shall continue to work on!) So—gulp!—I've started an email list. To sign up, just click here (although there is also a neat little link at the tippy-top left corner of this page). I'll send you updates roughly once a month—with new-book news, of course, but also scrummy vegan recipes and practical advice on rejuvenating your creativity. Over time there will be an expanding emphasis on social, animal, and environmental justice projects—and if that sounds heavy, well, you can choose not to look at it that way. I believe that everything we do in this life, we must do for one (or ideally both) of the following reasons:
To be happy [provided it's not at someone else's expense; eating bacon most definitely does not qualify.]
To grow into ever-more-loving versions of ourselves [see above!]***
To clarify, this isn't the same as subscribing to blog updates (but thank you very much for signing up for those!) Newsletter content is pretty fresh, meaning that you won't find much of it elsewhere on Comet Party. I won't be reposting the recipes I share in my emails, though some of them will appear in books (!!) later on. Even more exciting, next year when I start taking on beta coaching clients (probably five max), it's the list I'll be looking to—because if I'm going to work with someone for free in exchange for critical feedback (and hopefully a testimonial), those five have to be people who already appreciate and support my work! (And you'll hear all about the aforementioned philanthropic projects when the time is right.)
Thanks so much for reading this, everyone, and big love to my brilliant friends Dr. Giavanni Washington and Joelle Renstrom for helping me through this evolution (and to Elizabeth Johnston for lighting a fire under my desk chair).
A post shared by Camille DeAngelis (@cometparty) on Aug 25, 2017 at 4:30pm PDT
* I define "comfortable" as enough to cover basic living expenses, occasional domestic and (backpacker-style) international travel for work and adventure, and regular contributions to a retirement fund (not that I see myself retiring EVER, but you never know what might happen in the future. Gotta be prepared!)
** I had my ideas (and some very rough plans) in place years before reading that blog post—inspired by my experiences in India and Vermont and at Yaddo and Hawthornden—but Rachael distills my motivations more directly than I have yet been brave enough to do.
*** After writing out these two basic reasons-for-living, it occurred to me that I have simply reformulated the Golden Rule. Yessssssss!
Squam Fall 2017
I've been home from Squam for a week and a half, but I am still totally basking in the afterglow.
A post shared by Camille DeAngelis (@cometparty) on Sep 10, 2017 at 2:26pm PDT
I was on the support staff full time this go-around, but there was time each day to go for a swim. The weather was glorious. G-L-O-R-I-O-U-S. I have never gotten to spend this much time in the lake—swimming every single day apart from the Sunday we arrived—and I felt so very lucky for that. I did indeed sleep on that screened-in porch every night; I kept thinking the temperature would plummet (when I slept outside in Vermont at the end of September 2010 I remember shivering no matter how many layers I put on), but I was perfectly snug. From my pillow I could see the moon shining through the trees, and in the morning I opened my eyes to the rising sun glimmering on the water.Pine resin sticky in my crazy cropped hair; pond scum between my toes. Bliss, I tell you. BLISSSSSSSSSSSSS.
A post shared by Camille DeAngelis (@cometparty) on Sep 18, 2017 at 5:02am PDT
This was quite possibly the most special retreat since Elizabeth first started organizing them, because she announced after dinner on Friday evening that our friend Meg Fussell would be taking over as retreat director next year. You can read more on how that decision came about on the Squam Art Workshops blog. Meg is an utterly delightful human being. She has the magic combo of organizational prowess and social finesse one would need to rock this gig, and I'm so excited to watch her put her own stamp on the retreat and continue to expand our creative community. I expected to make myself useful (this was the first time I got to drive a golf cart, but it definitely won't be the last, heh!), celebrate with friends old (as in longstanding) and new, enjoy the lake and the woods and the loons and the stars like I always do—but I did not expect to feel quite so inspired or quite so loved by people I am only just getting to know. You're going to hear a lot about my new friend Dr. Giavanni Washington in the months to come: she is an intuitive percussive healer and coach who regularly hosts sacred circles and retreats for women of color in the LA area, but her work really is for everyone. I have no doubt that we have known each other many times before, but even so, it's kind of mind-boggling how quickly someone can become one of your dearest friends.
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There's a good bit more I could write—isn't there always?—but I'll just leave you with this. On Saturday night, across the road from the art fair, our friend Em Falconbridge was doing her doTERRA "oil fairy" goodness while her daughter Yindi was offering hand massages using said oils, and Giavanni set up her space for oracle card readings, all in the same warm inviting room.Yindi didn't have any "customers" yet, so I went over and asked for a massage. I told her that I used to do the same for my grandfather, and that I was definitely going to cry while she did it, and she was so sweet and kind to me. I am getting quite comfortable with crying in public, let me tell you. Afterward I asked her if she was taking tips, and she gave me this incredulous look—imagine "nooo!" said by a ten-year-old girl in the most adorable Australian accent.
It was healing, and I was grateful.
A post shared by Camille DeAngelis (@cometparty) on Sep 17, 2017 at 3:05pm PDT
Spring Squam 2017
It'd been awhile since my last Squam Art Workshops retreat: I taught a writing class there in September 2014 and daydreamed about returning as a student again for printmaking and other yummy classes, but life conspired against it. And like everyone else, I was sad when I heard 2017 would be Elizabeth's last year running the retreats—though I know very well the desire to move on from what you've already proven you're good at. 
A few weeks ago Elizabeth seemed anxious to connect, and when we got on Skype she told me her writing teacher had pulled out and could I fill in. COULD I?So I got to go to Elizabeth's last June Squam after all. My iPhone is busted and I decided not to pack Aunt Kathy's Nikon, so this post is going to be 100% other people's photographs. It was lovely not to spend the energy documenting everything. I texted a few pictures of the cabin to Matt from my dumbphone and got on with the nature worship.
I drove up with Elizabeth on Sunday and helped decorate and organize registration stuff—the most relaxing and enjoyable "work" you can imagine. Check out Elizabeth's blog recap for a nice photo of Meg and Coop, a.k.a. Team Squam Mice (Meg arranged the table above)—and here's a photo of Terri and me taken by her partner Tom at the end of my last class on Saturday morning:
It's a wrap! Camille aka @cometparty and I taught for SAW again this week. It is always inspiring to have Squamies in the house. #squamlove #squamlove2017 A post shared by Terri Dautcher (@tldautcher) on
(You may recall I took Terri's woodworking class in June 2014. Elizabeth likes to say she is an angel passing for human and I wholeheartedly agree.) 
So many fabulous memories from #squamlove2017. Incredible to see so much creative energy in motion. I loved watching the delight in my students as their blankets came together. I adored catching up with old friends and meeting and getting to know new ones. Plus, the magic of the lake ✨the best! Thanks for having me @squamlove! A post shared by Anne Weil / Maker (@flaxandtwine) on
I hadn't seen my dear friend Anne in three years, so we really reveled in getting to be roomies again—talking about our families and creative aspirations on the sun-baked dock and late into the night.
Writing on this porch, enfolded in the magic of the trees..💖 #squamlove A post shared by Jane (@sepiaandglitter) on
Both my classes were full of smart, enthusiastic, open-hearted women of all ages, teens to seventies. In theory we were writing personal essays (for a clear definition of what constitutes a personal essay as opposed to memoir, read this), but in practice each student shaped those six hours to her own ends. The mind mapping was a big hit.
No one is making me breakfast this morning. #imisssquam #lovegroupdining #squam2017 #squamlove2017 #squamlove #ineedmaplesyrupA post shared by Sue Greene (@suegreene) on
I connected with mind-blowingly talented teachers (see if you can spot me above having our last breakfast with my cabin-mates Mary Jane Mucklestone and Karen Templer), caught up with friends I made way back at my first Squam in 2011, and got ideas for future projects that absolutely light me up. More on that...eventually.
Evening lights at my cabin Cragsmere. We are all cozy. #squamartworkshops #squamlove #squamlove2017 #rdcsquam A post shared by Cordula (@handherzseele) on
My block printing!! I only cried a little while drawing. #squamlove #saw2017 #squamartworkshops Class with the beautiful @penelope_dullaghan! A post shared by Jessica MF (@jessica.mf) on
I know I keep saying I'm going to get back into blogging more frequently and consistently, but after teaching this time around I do feel more motivated—I had several conversations with similarly ambivalent bloggers ("I feel silly writing and putting it out there when it feels like nobody's reading it"), and I figured we could just make a point of reading and responding to each other's work. Community is what we come for, after all! See plenty more pics where these came from using the Instagram hashtag #squamlove2017.
Starry Sorbetto and Retro Apples
Another sewing post!
For Christmas, I sewed my roommate a Sorbetto blouse using the yard-plus I had left over from my starry Darling Ranges dress. She'd oohed over the fabric, and she does seem to like (usually understated) metallics. This was my second time using this pattern—Sorbetto #1 was a Christmas present for my sister (in 2013, I think? or 2014?) using a fuchsia rayon from Mood. I never did get a picture of her wearing it, but that's okay—it came out too short so I'm not sure how much she's actually been able to wear it. I learned my lesson, and added length this time. Other than that, this pattern is great (especially since it's free!)
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I moved into this lovely old attic apartment at the beginning of summer 2014, and spent the first couple weeks shopping for furniture at Goodwill and Boomerangs. I fell in love with this 1930s-(ish?) folding chair—it was only five bucks!!—so home it came with me. All along the plan was to remove the old vinyl seat covering and recover it with something awesome, but as you can tell by the date stamp on this blog post, it's taken an inexplicably long time to complete the easiest DIY project ever.
The fabric is an utterly delightful linen upholstery weight from Cotton + Steel, which waited patiently in the drawer while I got myself organized enough to pick up a foam chair pad from Jo-Ann. I cut the pad to size with a box cutter, pulled all the rusty old staples out, and put on the new upholstery using a staple gun left over from my canvas-stretching days.
Believe it or not, it is possible to fall head-over-heels in love with a folding chair. This print puts a big smile on my face every time I look at it.
I'm working on my dress for Kate's wedding at the moment, so that'll probably be the next project I blog!
Foxes and Rabbits
‘And carrots, Dad!’ said the smallest of the three small foxes. ‘We must take some of those carrots!’
‘Don’t be a twerp,’ said Mr. Fox. ‘You know we never eat things like that.’
‘It’s not for us, Dad. It’s for the Rabbits. They only eat vegetables.’
'My goodness me, you're right!' cried Mr. Fox. 'What a thoughtful little fellow you are! Take ten bunches of carrots.'
—Roald Dahl, Fantastic Mr. Fox
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Just when you thought my home-sewn wardrobe couldn't get any more twee...
Best of all, they are vegetarian foxes, frolicking most innocently with their bosom bunnies. I saw this fabric at Grey's last summer (a few months before Sarah decided to pack it in) and could not resist it.
From this unabashedly twee cotton I made my second Hawthorn, this time with short sleeves. I was hurrying to finish this dress in time to wear to Kendall's Drift & Dagger launch party in September 2015 (I told you I had a backlog of sewing posts!), and in my haste I did not ease the sleeve cap in as smoothly as I could have. But as I have already confessed, if you aren't going to notice my shortcuts then I am probably not going to get around to fixing them anytime soon!
Matt and I ['who is Matt?' Read this] went to the MFA the other day and he (very patiently) took more photos so I could finally publish this post. Can you tell this is my favorite dress pattern? It is so flattering and so fun (though I did no twirlies at the museum. I should have.) I finished a third Hawthorn back in September for the Life Without Envy launch, but I still have to get good photos.
I played with some of the Flickr filters on these last two. Happy New Year, everybody! (God help us all............)
Christmas Dahlia dress
I may just find my way back into blogging through a backlog of sewing posts.
Here's my sister's Christmas present from last year—her first in her (their) new home in Washington, D.C. It's a Dahlia from Colette Patterns, suitable for work (even if the cotton is prone to wrinkling). Fitting color choice for an environmental policy analyst, don't you think? 
The fabric is a cotton lawn from Robert Kaufman, which I purchased soon before Grey's Fabric moved house and turned into Mercer's. (It's been almost a year and I still haven't been to the new store, partly because I don't want to be tempted when I still have so much of a stash to sew through—I bought more during the moving sale!) 
Dahlia is not my favorite Colette pattern, to be honest; this was the first time I've had to second-guess anything. I suppose I'm skilled enough now that I can anticipate when and why alterations will be necessary, and in this case I do believe it's a matter of a less-than-flawless design rather than making alterations to suit one's own form. 
If you sew this pattern, you will most likely want to make the following modifications:
1. Add shoulder darts at the top of the raglan sleeves so the yoke conforms to the shape of the neck and shoulders. (I followed Lime Scented's notes and made mine 3" wide and 3.5" long. If you need assistance, here's a tutorial.) If you don't add shoulder darts—which ought to have been written into the pattern to begin with—you're going to have a gappy-backed potato sack effect going on up top despite the bodice gather. In the course of my Google research I found someone explaining that it's just very difficult to tailor raglan styles using woven fabric, so that's why you don't see them too often in sewing patterns.2. Take in the sleeves by at least one inch. As designed they're fairly baggy-looking, which detracts from the lovely feminine silhouette.I'm very pleased with how this dress turned out. I was nervous about the fit—I tried it on as I was sewing (since I don't yet own a dress form) and couldn't get the zipper up, but my sister's waist is much narrower than mine is, so it fit her perfectly. Whew! 
Kate and Elliot are getting married in February. I'm sewing my dress, which will give me another fun project to blog about. 
What's News
Here's another quickie post—I've thrown myself into NaNoWriMo, so I won't be blogging again regularly for at least another month!
There is now a Youtube channel (with a million thanks to my friend M.A. Barrett for putting together such beautiful videos!) I'm planning to sit down in the next week or two and get a bunch more recorded. Like I said, this is going to be sort of like my video series from 2012, only much shorter—2-3 minutes long, and more generally creative. I'd love to hear your requests for future video topics!
Things I have written lately:
Why Success is a Crock (and What to Aim for Instead) on Medium
Bile and Begrudgery: How to Break Free of Your Own Bullshit on Medium
Creating a Life Without Envy (inspired by Hindu concepts of Oneness and Devotion) on Dead Darlings
Things that have been written lately about Life Without Envy:
Local Author offers 'Ego Management for Creative People', Philly Voice
"A Most Savage Plague": A Brief Encounter with Literary Envy, Kate Gilbert on Readers Unbound
Novelist Claire Hennessy transforms envy into pure admiration on Girls Heart Books
Podcast interviews:
Morning on the Dock #52 with my friend Elizabeth Duvivier of Squam Art Workshops
Tranquility du Jour #381: Life Without Envy with Kimberly Wilson
Another exciting thing:
I took a six-week illustration class at RISD and now I've committed to drawing (or just doodling—no pressure) every day for the next year.
A photo posted by Camille DeAngelis (@cometparty) on Nov 5, 2016 at 1:14pm PDT
Thank you to everyone who's come out to my events over the past month-and-change, thank you for buying the book, and thank you for reading!
#whatimake Slide Show and Resources
I'm just home from the first-ever #whatimake conference, and it was AMAAAAAZING. Proper post to follow, but in the meantime I want to drop my slide show and resources links here for any attendees who are looking for it. Thank you for coming! <3
#Whatimake excitement at @aeronautbrewing!!!
A photo posted by Camille DeAngelis (@cometparty) on Apr 16, 2016 at 7:25am PDT
Life Without Envy, and Marvin the Time-Traveling Armchair
Happy New Year, everybody! May 2016 be your awesomest year yet.
Here's why I'm feeling pretty darn excited about 2016, myself:
Pub date is much sooner than I expected (and when does that ever happen?!): September 27th, 2016! I'm working on a proper book page now.
I don't have much to say (yet) apart from the cover reveal, but it did occur to me after posting my latest decluttering update that there's one corner of my room which is quite perfect: I found this armchair in an antiques shop in Providence last New Year's Eve, and fell instantly in love. His name is Marvin and he has the ability to zip anyone who sits in him through the fourth dimension to the destination of their choice.
Organizationally speaking, it's the DIY project bag rack (sewing instructions here) that is noteworthy. I'm also planning to recover that 1930s folding chair to Marvin's right with the vintage-inspired upholstery fabric you see folded on top. (I'm so sad Grey's Fabric is leaving Boston!!)
The Aspirational Lightness of Being, part 3
Truth be told, I kinda forgot I even had a blog for a few weeks there. I've been busy with Life Without Envy revisions (it's in the spring 2017 catalog! eeeeeeeeee! and we almost have a cover!), redecorating my room (after my landlord painted it while I was away in Ireland and Georgia), holiday prep, and various social outings (more than usual; that time of year, I guess!) And when I did think about the blog, I remembered all the projects I have temporarily abandoned—the indie bookstore appreciation, Hinduism 101, Vegan by the Seat of Your Pants, travel recaps, and a few more besides. Blogging is no fun when you start thinking in terms of shoulds.
Well, if every other year has started with resolutions about new projects, maybe this time I'll resolve to wrap up some projects that are already on the table. For now, because of all the room redecorating, I'm still a little bit obsessed with what I'm calling aspirational minimalism—so here's a post I started writing before I left.
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Some of you lovely blog readers prefer to reply via email rather than commenting below. I received this response to a recent post about recycling my grade-school artwork:
But if you are photographing it, are you really tossing your artwork? Are you REALLY shedding that skin?
Crocheted clown dolls our cousin Ann gave our mother at my baby shower. Ann agrees they are creepy and gave me her blessing to dispose of them.
Touché, my friend. Maybe someday I will be the kind of person who burns all her old journals and lives with little more than basic cooking utensils and a few sets of clothing, but I am not there yet. (HAAAAAAAA.) I know that if I had trashed all those drawings and paintings without taking some photographs, I would already be regretting it. The main thing for me right now is to get rid of all the old stuff that is taking up physical space. I believe that domestic clutter is always a reflection of emotional and psychic clutter; and if this new mantra sounds simplistic, it really doesn't matter, because each time I get rid of a bunch of stuff I feel noticeably better about myself, noticeably lighter. So if you are beginning to suspect that there may be many more installments of this "Aspirational Lightness" business, you are probably correct.
Because my landlord was painting while I was gone, I spent a few days before I left boxing everything up and hiding it in my closet and crawl space. Ideally I would have sorted through the paper piles—yes, those notes from my NYU days are still here—but I only managed to get rid of what was obviously a waste of space and could be recycled with little effort. At first I'd bristled at Marie Kondo's declaration that NO ONE needs to hold onto ANY PIECE OF PAPER, EVER. I am a writer, you know. I write on paper. I neeeeeeeeed it!
Well, I need some of it, but only for now. Notes for current and future projects? Yes. Drafts of books that have already been published? No.
Why am I saving this? It's not just writing, of course. I'd started a file ("file" as in another paper bag, haha) called "read and recycle." Then I realized I'd been collecting these articles to read since I moved to Boston two and a half years ago, and in those two and a half years I had not gotten around to reading any of them.
Life is short, my friends. I recycled the lot.
I also got rid of a bunch of Christmas, birthday, and thank-you cards. I'd strung these up in festoons from the ceiling, which made my space feel a little like a dorm room. I took them down and recycled most of them. As for non-paper clutter, last week I finally bought myself a dresser. I'd been stacking clean clothes on a shelf in my closet, but I have to push the hanging clothes aside and reach into the dark for what I need. Not at all ideal. I got an unfinished dresser from the Bookcase Factory Outlet (not far from Porter Square) and at some point I'll finish it myself. Thanks to all the sewing I've done this year, I've found it pretty easy to "edit" my wardrobe down to the things I actually wear—but I still need a convenient place to store them. I've sorted through my fabric scraps, so I have a big bag of stuff to Freecycle. The fabric I'm keeping is folded away in a set of plastic drawers under my work table, but as you can see, I still need neater and more attractive ways of storing my art supplies (and current sewing projects and stack of mending). I'm thinking I'll cover some cardboard boxes with pretty paper.
That box at the top left is full of old notes though. My new strategy is to bring all that stuff to the Writers' Room, parcel it into manageable chunks and go through one stack at the beginning or end of each writing session. We'll see how that goes...
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And on a completely different note, I have some SUPER EXCITING NEWS...Two of my very favorite people in the whole universe are getting hitched! (Can you see the post-proposal glowiness in that picture?? I have never seen Elliot so excited!)
I actually want to write about how these two totally having their s**t together inspires me to follow suit. Yet another post to add to the 2016 to-do list. ;)
Starry Darling Ranges
I have been in love with Megan Nielsen's Darling Ranges dress pattern since the day it came out: it's got sweet feminine touches like a moderately-revealing neckline and gathered sleeves, and like all the indie sewing patterns I've used so far, this one was a breeze to follow... ...once I found the perfect fabric. This lovely starry cotton lawn is from Grey's, as usual. [EDIT: Out of business, alas!]
The neckline is finished with bias tape, so I used some of my vintage stash. (What do you think—1950s??)
My goal was to finish this dress in time for the Boston Book Festival, and I got plenty of compliments that evening. Having too much fun to remember to take any photos though. And at my friend Jason's night-before-Halloween costumes-optional party I told everyone I had dressed up—as a constellation.
Then I packed the dress to wear on my birthday in Dingle. (Photos by Seanan.)
This is my new favorite dress out of everything I've sewn so far. I feel really pretty in it (even if I do look a teensy bit preggo in this shot.)
It was a lovely birthday. We ended the night with trad at John Benny's and my pal Jedediah Berry's The Family Arcana (which is brilliant, by the way).
Shedding My Skin
You must follow the path that opens to you and you must never stop. And it will demand that you shed your skin, over and over and over again. Your skin must be shed for that skin is not the skin of a writer; it is the skin of whatever you were before.
—Stephen Harrod Buhner
The last time I blogged about decluttering I mentioned getting rid of all my grade-school artwork, and how good it felt to photograph the drawings I was most proud of before dumping it all in the blue recycling bin. I thought I'd post some of my favorite old drawings here.
I really love the quote above from Stephen Harrod Buhner (in Ensouling Language), although I keep swapping the word "artist" for "writer" whenever I read it. It may seem kind of weird that tossing old-old artwork should feel so momentous to me, but it does. I'm finally making space for new images. (I'm not done yet though—I have more artwork from my early 20s to sort through!)
The Aspirational Lightness of Being, part 2
(The Aspirational Lightness of Being, part 1.)
Most of the junk I have accumulated over the past thirty-four years is stored in towering stacks of Rubbermaid bins in my mother's basement. Understandably, my mumsy has been hinting for quite some time now that she would be extreeeeemely happy if I were to winnow my (90% aspirational) collections of books and kitchenware. So I put out fourteen (!) bins, boxes, and bags for Vietnam Vets, and there's still a lot left to go through.
You may have heard of this Japanese book about decluttering called The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up. It's a bestseller, and lots of journalists and bloggers are talking about it. Personal organizing is an industry unto itself, of course, but after reading Marie Kondo's book (on the plane home to New Jersey) I understand why people are so enthusiastic about it. Kondo's signature strategy is this: you're supposed to pick up the item in question (actually touch it) and ask yourself, "Does this spark joy?"
At first this seemed kind of corny. But I found that asking this simple question made the keep-or-toss conundrum incredibly easy—and the more I asked it, the more I realized that many of my possessions are still mine only because I either feel guilty about letting them go (unread books, unused gifts, my own handknit sweaters, etc.) or have just been too lazy or disorganized to dispose of them properly (like shoes I never wear anymore). Granted, the low-spark or no-spark factor is probably much higher on my possessions in New Jersey (I did leave them behind, after all), but I bet there are still a lot of things I'll want to let go of once I'm home again. (I'm still in New Jersey as I write this, so it'll be interesting to see how I view the objects in my bedroom when I get back to Boston.)
I shared The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up with my mom, and she laughed hysterically when I read the following passage aloud:
Now I realize that people who have a convenient place to send things, such as a parents' house, are actually quite unfortunate. Even if the house is large with rooms to spare, it is not some infinitely expanding fourth dimension...
(The mother of the client in question came to Marie afterward for help in dealing with her daughter's junk!)
Here are a few more tidbits that really resonated for me:
My basic principle for sorting papers is to throw them all away. Corollary: When you attend a seminar, do so with the resolve to part with every handout distributed. If you regret recycling it, take the same seminar again, and this time apply the learning. It's paradoxical, but I believe that precisely because we hang on to such materials, we fail to put what we learn into practice.
On demoting tired clothing to "loungewear": ...[I]t doesn't seem right to keep clothes we don't enjoy for relaxing around the house. This time at home is still a precious part of living. Its value should not change just because nobody sees us...What you wear in the house does impact your self-image.
When you come across something that you cannot part with, think carefully about its true purpose in your life. You'll be surprised at how many of the things you possess have already fulfilled their role.
On regretting throwing something out: Life becomes far easier once you know that things will still work out even if you are lacking something.
Human beings can only truly cherish a limited number of things at one time.
By handling each sentimental item and deciding what to discard, you process your past.
That last one is why I need to get rid of about 85% of my possessions: you gotta release everything that's over and done with to make space for all the exciting new stuff that's waiting to come into your life:
Mary Modern drafts? Destined for the recycling bin. (There are plenty more novels to write.)
Bulging portfolio of grade-school and high-school artwork? Recycled or trashed—ALL of it!—because I don't need proof that I could have been an artist. (What sort of artist would I like to grow into now?)
Pressed roses given to me by a very sweet young man on my 17th birthday? I scattered them in the woods behind the backyard fence. (Hello, love!)
As Marie Kondo writes, The space in which we live should be for the person we are becoming now, not for the person we were in the past. When you put it that way, I can actually get excited about cleaning out my closet.