Time Lords, Automatons, and Other Things I Love

So, you’ve read something that has resonated with you. It’s everything you’ve wanted in terms of characters, prose, plot and pace. It’s the best you’ve read in years. You reread your favourite lines. You have to take a break just to absorb every meticulously crafted line. You are in awe of how something so small can seem to take up so much space.

And in a perfect world, it would inspire you to go out and create. To work on that story that is languishing in your save files, to pick up that WIP you abandoned, to make you want to write something different and new and better. 

Instead, it makes you feel inferior. The words are too good. You could never write like that. The characters are too perfect. You don’t have that insight. The story is too captivating. Your ideas are boring, cliche, plain. The insight is remarkable. You can barely string a thought together coherently. 

Why even bother, you think.

Don’t fall into that trap. I have been there so many times. I have abandoned writing for years because of “why even bother”. I have let it destroy my confidence, only to patch it back up in a cheap imitation of what it once was, just to let it invade my thoughts again. I have questioned every thing I’ve written, every choice, every line, because why even bother if someone is so much better. 

YOUR WRITING HAS MERIT. What you don’t realize is that it’s not in terms of better, but different. Different style, different story, different interpretation, different mind.

Someone out there will love the way you describe the night sky in poetry. Someone out there will love the way you describe the look on someone’s face when their heart breaks. Someone out there will love your idea, that strange one that seems impossible or already done, because it’s new and exciting or they love endless amounts of that same story. Someone out there will love your interpretation of that character, whether more gentle or bitter or broken or healed. Someone out there will love the words you write, the grandiose use of adverbs (my guilt) or the minimal scattering of dialogue. Someone out there will love your abundance or lack of something you saw in that story you so loved, the one that rendered you speechless and snuffed out your fire. 

Someone out there will love your words. And you need to share them. 

Speaking as a writer, no one sets out to create something to discourage others. No one wants to dominate their corner and be the only one there. No one wants to be alone in their craft. If they do, they are doing it for the wrong reasons. Speaking as a writer, I would never want you to read my writing and think, why bother. 

I want you to think, why bother waiting?

Your story matters. Your writing matters. It’s beautiful and defined and gorgeous and a work in progress and growing and already there and insightful and mysterious: it all has merit. 

Never stop. Never stop writing and practicing and doing and creating and learning and loving the words you weave.

You may think someone has done it more beautifully or better or too many times or never because who wants to read it? 

Evolution is just not fast enough to keep up with the information technologies of post- Neolithic civilization, never mind 24/7 news cycles and Instagram reels. It is okay, it is necessary, to look away.

Pick one broken thing, one place, one change at a time. Give fixing that thing your heart. Stay informed, sure — but broadly. Know enough to make a good decision if you are electing or delegating someone to work on another broken thing. But your energy and attention are finite.

this this this! I volunteer at two places. i wish i could do more but i'm just not physically able to. i wish i could help do something about so much injustice and pain in the world but all i can do is concentrate on one small part of it and make it as better as i can.

Activism is a marathon, not a sprint.

Pick the thing you’re passionate about, or the thing where you feel you can make the biggest difference, and connect with people doing that work.

Pace yourself so you don’t burn out. You can only run on passion and fumes for so long.

THERE ARE SO MANY WAYS TO FUCK IT UP

In my AP Art class, there was a girl who was just starting to experiment with mixed media. At this point she was still playing around, trying to decide what direction she wanted to go with her portfolio. So one critique day, she brought in an abstract canvas with some rhinestone highlights and painted and real peacock feathers. She loved sparkles and peacock feathers so she thought she’d try introducing them a *little*. And after everyone had given some input, the teacher gave her his advice, VERY roughly paraphrased here:

“So here’s the thing… I do not like this style. These are just elements that do not speak to me personally, but I see that you like them, and you’re doing interesting things with them.

“My biggest critique is, I only merely *dislike* this piece. I want you to make me HATE it. Go crazy with the things that you like. Don’t hold back trying to make it palatable to people like me. Because I am NEVER going to like it. And if the audience does not like it, it should drive them crazy seeing how much YOU love it.”

Her portfolio was chock full of neon colors and glitter and rhinestones and splashes of peacock feathers and it was a delight. Our teacher despised every piece lol, but she got great marks and I think even won some awards. And more importantly, she was happy and proud of the results. Because she didn’t limit herself by trying to appeal to people who were never going to enjoy what she enjoyed.

It may seem like it should be a pepper, since that would go better with the flavour of a tomato (and the mass produced modern ones are admittedly more pepper shaped), but it is and has always been a strawberry. Here are some antique emery strawberries, which are much more strawberry shaped, and some of them have seeds.

(source)

(source)

(Home Needlework Magazine, 1899)

And it's for cleaning needles, not sharpening them. I can't imagine how jamming a blunt needle point around in a bunch of loose grit could possibly sharpen it in any significant way, and all the historical sources I've seen only talk about cleaning.

"Every sewer's work basket or work box should contain an emery bag, as shown in Fig. 2, through which to push a needle when it becomes rough, squeaks, or sticks in the material. An emery bag is usually shaped like a strawberry and consists of a rough denim bag filled with emery powder, which is a very hard material used for polishing metals. Such a bag may be purchased for 5 or 10 cents in any store that sells sewing materials. Needles often become rusted from the perspiration of the hands or from being left in damp places. The beginner may use a small emery bag to remove rust; or, a small piece of emery paper may be used instead."

-Woman's Institute Reference Library, 1916.

"Use an emery whenever your needle does not slip through the cloth easily."

-The Improvement of Educational Administration in Massachusetts, 1916.

"An emery bag is inexpensive and is useful to keep needles polished and smooth. If the hands perspire and it is difficult to push the needle through the cloth, running the needle through the emery will relieve the condition."

-Boys' and Girls' Clothing Club, 1915.

"It was very hot to sit and sew. The needle would get sticky in spite of all the little emery strawberry could give it, and Beth's fingers had never felt so clumsy and uncomfortable."

-The Unitarian Register, 1908.

"She polished her needles to nothing, pushing them in and out of the emery strawberry, but they always squeaked."

-Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm, 1910.

This patent from 1873 mentions an emery slab for sharpening pins, which is quite different from a cushion, and which sounds like it actually would work for sharpening.

"C is a slab of emery or other sharp and fine grit, for sharpening needles or pins"

Then later down the page it also says

"E is an emery cushion, secured in the body of the holder A, and is used for polishing needles and keeping them smooth."

So. Strawberry for cleaning. Not pepper for sharpening.

“The thing that was not a deer” implies a creature which mimics a deer but imperfectly and the details which are wrong are what makes it terrifying

The “was not a deer” monster speaks to fear born of deception, dangers that approach under the guise of familiarity, with varying levels of success to infiltrate the familiar before lashing out

The “not a deer anymore” monster speaks to fear born of coercion. Whatever it is was once familiar and perhaps even comforting but through the action of another agent the familiar has become grotesque and dangerous.

“You’re so handsome.” “No I’m not.” 

I see it and feel it the exact same way as if I said “What a beautiful sunset” and someone said “No it’s not, it’s ugly.” I was in a place of joy and you just injected something very unpleasant and life-denying into that space and that hurts.

I am here appreciating the world. You, as a human being, are part of that world. You’re a natural phenomenon and people have a right to find you beautiful and good and worthy. That is an expression of THEIR joy and enjoyment of the world. They are not incorrect. 

They are expressing their aliveness and ability to perceive, they are right in the heart of what makes it worthwhile and joyful to be alive, and you should not come to that special place within someone you love and tell them it’s wrong to feel the way they feel.

I totally get that it may sound fake and ridiculous to you when someone compliments you, and it’s ok to acknowledge that. “I know you mean it when you say it, but my brain won’t let me believe it right now. But thank you. I will keep trying.” 

99 times out of 100 this is going to pass as a thank you, and it's easier to say, and as a bonus, it's a kind of yes-and that can help the conversation going. Next time someone says you look pretty and you can't say thank you, be enthusiastic about the new thing you're doing with your hair. Next time someone loves your cooking, be excited about having found such a cool recipe or having had an opportunity to modify it in a cool way.

…only to be followed by this amazing message.

The roller coaster ride started.

With a happy ending…

…and a sweet poem to finish.

“Kissed my best friend to see what would happen”

‘Pumpie'