Let Me Tell You a Story #14: A Broken Needle

One of my crafty hobbies–and I have many–is altering clothing.  I hate waste and I love to shop, so rifling through the endless racks of donated clothing at thrift stores thrills me to my bones.  What will I find next?  Can I make it fit me, or make something else out of it?

I came home a few weeks ago with a good haul that included several pairs of nearly-fitting jeans.  One in particular was just the right shade of black-fading-slowly-to-charcoal.  Brand-new black jeans are just too…black.

They fit in the waist and hips just fine.  Score.  But they’re flared…and while I don’t consider myself wholly a slave to the seasonal whims of fashion, even I don’t wear flared jeans.  I set about taking in the legs to match my favorite pair of ink-blue straight legs.

Halfway through my third seam, the heavy denim snapped my needle.

My mind said setback while my heart screamed tragedy.

I have spare heavyweight needles.  I have leather needles from my brief stint where I was convinced I could turn a thrift-store leather jacket into some kind of awesome steampunk vest thing…which didn’t happen.  What I do not have (and should get) are any denim needles.

Knowing that, a sensible person would set aside the jeans and start sewing something else until said denim needles could be acquired.

I turned off my sewing machine with the shaft of the snapped needle still in it and haven’t sewn anything since.

And that is why I write every day.  Every. Single. Day.

It’s a common piece of advice, and it’s a commonly shunned piece of advice.  The shunners have good reason–I’m not arguing that.  Forcing yourself to write through a creative drought can be disheartening, draining, damaging.  The “Write Everyday” mantra is not a one-size-fits-all solution.

But I have to write every day, because one day missed can easily become two.  Two days turns into four, four into a week, one week into two, two into a month.  I started keeping a journal again in mid-August, meaning to do a page a day, and I forgot one day because it was still new, and then my next entry was a week later.  Oops.

Every. Single. Day.

It’s not about the word count, though I have goals for that, too.  It’s about the habit.  Writing needs to be a habit.  Writing has become as necessary as exercise and food and sleep.  In fact, I was just about to go for a run when I got the idea for this post, so I sat down in my running gear and whipped it up.  (It’s nice and cool out this morning–I think today might be a four-mile kind of day.  Maybe even five, if I feel good when I’m out there.  I just changed my playlist a few days ago, and that always helps.)

Also, if I have time this afternoon, I might start a new sewing project.  A shirt.  A pillow.  Not jeans.


3 thoughts on “Let Me Tell You a Story #14: A Broken Needle

  1. “But I have to write every day, because one day missed can easily become two. Two days turns into four, four into a week, one week into two, two into a month.” <——– THIS!!! And it's so easy to let it slide. I'm trying not to though. The first half of the year, I wasn't so great. The second half, I've been doing a much better job keeping up.

    Also? I can't tell you how many times I've walked away from a snapped sewing machine needle. If it's something I'm making for someone else, I tend to go back to the machine a lot quicker than I do if it's something for me. :/


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