What is it about the onset of fall that makes me want to wrap myself in a blanket with a cup of tea by my side and take refuge in a book? I’ve been delving back into the classics lately and have been savoring the way that The Count of Monte Cristo plays on the humanistic need for revenge of wrongdoing and The Moon and Sixpence sparsely draws you into the story of Charles Strickland. At first W. Somerset Maugham seems a reticent writer, but after a few pages you begin to notice that he is telling a full story without flowering phrases or alliteration. It’s such a welcome change that it’s beautiful.

To be honest, I’ve just started Maugham’s book. Even though I am a bit further along than page 11, I stopped to underline, “I forget who it was that recommended men for their soul’s good to do each day two things they disliked: it was a wise man, and it is a precept that I have followed scrupulously.” Even though the sentence continues with, “for every day I have got up and I have gone to bed,” the first part was intensely resonant. Lately I’ve been doing things I don’t necessarily like doing. Not to make myself miserable, but to push myself from a routine that seemed, well, not as productive as it could be.

If you’ve read this little blog for awhile now, you might have noticed that I am a night owl. My most productive hours (whether its cleaning the house, writing or embroidering) are between 10pm and 3am, when the moon beams through my window bathing everything in a gentle omniscient glow. Since moving home I’ve been trying to reorient my schedule to something more “normal,” and have been attending 6am workouts at a local gym.

While every fiber of my being fights getting up at 5.30, my body has become to adore the stretching and pulling and pushing of the workouts as they vary from day to day. This morning it was yoga. Somewhere around 6.45, we were doing the happy baby pose, and I started giggling to myself. It was the first time in all of these morning workouts where I actually found myself happy to be awake so early. It, too, was a welcome change.

You also have probably heard about this little documentary project I’m doing. In fact, you may be sick of it. (I’m sorry!) That’s the second thing I’m partaking in each day even though part of me cringes while I’m tinkering away at a template and or answering emails. But don’t think for a minute that I am not also enjoying every second of it.

The problem lies in the fact that the components of the project (submissions) remain outside of my control. That’s the part I hate. Turning over something I have ideas for to the public. Even though I collaborate with people in art/craft/writing projects, seldom am I the one running the show. It’s not that I don’t like taking the initiative, but that I enjoy working as part of a team instead on my own. (Unless, working on my own means solely own, ridiculously). And I must admit, this second thing I dislike is infinitely more frightening to me than my hair in the morning- which is precisely why I must do it.

For those of you who have sent me submissions (and those of you who have emailed me about submissions you are going to send!) you have my heart. Not because you are helping me to gain confidence in my own ideas and convictions, but because every one of your stories has fuelled me with more ideas than I ever thought possible. It is this sense of inspiration that first astounded me about the craft world, how individuals throughout time were taking age old traditions and making them current with the times, in resurgence after resurgence. I can have similar conversations regarding craft with both my grandmother and my most radical friends, which never ceases to amaze me.

Craft has given us a common ground, which is where I started to think about collecting stories and photographs from people in the community. It should be online within the next two weeks…that is, as long as I continue to follow Maugham’s advice.