It feels odd to give you one chapter and little description of the novel, but I’m not including it here to focus on how it was written or to say much about its place within the novel. I want to show you how a chapter can be more than a chapter—how it can be a refresh option for a book.

I have been procrastinating for a while. I’ve been writing and revising scenes in another project and hoped something from the process would spark a new piece for this series. The insights I’m acquiring are ones I’m still integrating—new ideas on how a scene is a story and also much more, a moment and a story within a story—how to create knowing that? I couldn’t settle into that question or any other; I couldn’t initiate anything new. 

Sewing is something she did, and by holding onto her sewing paraphernalia or some vestiges of it, I kept part of her with me. Inside the box, I see the accoutrements of her sewing self.

Like Soane, I made my room yellow because I could. He got access to more enduring paint, now called now called Soanian yellow. I got coveted space. The yellow on yellow made it feel like it was more than yellow. It was yellow’s yellow, an electric lemon,  brighter than daffodils, sharper than sunshine. 

I head to Moscone Center for my second Pfizer shot. I take the same route—home to SF—I took for my first shot. Again, I arrive early, can’t find street parking, end up in an expensive lot. I walk down Fifth Street to Howard. Wind swirls around me. People intent on where they are going pass me. The long lines outside the vaccine site tell me things are different than before. 

What I am making is trying to become art. I have made reflective choices (which words to use, how to structure the story, what belongs and what doesn’t, why this work?). I’ve considered the impact of my choices on the piece and you. If I’ve made the choices well, I’ve found ways for you to experience the art. The possibility of that—that we might relate or connect, sit together or experience each other through what is made—what if that’s an invitation for makers and the art? To step more fully into our humanness (and humanity) and bring all that we are and might be into each chance to create?

In this blog series, I am testing out my definition. I’ll make new work for each post then will leap to a short reflection. I’ll be exploring what I mean by work and in progress, but in all posts, I’ll offer you something I relied on to make the work. I hope you’ll find something new or a helpful perspective—and are inspired to explore your work in progress too. 

In the beginning is an image: My father in some weird mustard-colored shorts and his proverbial white T-shirt throws a football to a group of neighborhood boys. I stand on the edge of the yard looking into the game—anxious to get in. Not until I pursue the image do details then a story emerge.