PaperGirl Blog by Mary Fons

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19 Feb 2017

I Am Not A Grown-Up.

by Mary | posted in: Day In The Life | 20

Portrait of a woman, aged sixteen, previously identified as Mary Fitzalan, Duchess of Norfolk, 1565. Image: Wikipedia.

Whatever you have heard, whatever conclusions you may have drawn, I feel compelled tonight to make sure you know that I am not a grown-up.

Saying such a thing is painful for two reasons.

The first (and probably the most painful) reason is that when I say it, I sound like someone in a Disney World commercial. I say that I’m not a grown-up and suddenly I see myself in one of those commercials, smiling a real cheesy smile while wearing a Donald Duck visor and a fannypack, throwing up my hands with a shrug while I whirl around in the teacups as the voiceover plays me saying, “I guess I’m just not ready to grow up, yet, Mickey!”

I think you trust that I like fun. But I am not a fan of amusement parks.

The second reason it’s painful to admit that I am not an actual grown-up person is because everyone expects me to be and I have convinced people for long enough that I can behave like a grown-up person, to bail out now would be difficult at best.

Since 2005, I have supported myself as a freelancer. Writing, performance, and quilting gigs are how I make my living. This means that I have to deal with self-employment tax and save receipts and fill out countless 1099 forms and keep track of so, so many things. When tax time comes, I think, “I can’t do this. This is very hard.” But I do it, anyway, because I am a good citizen. I’m not a grown-up, you see, but I am at least a good citizen.

But taxes are kind of like, easier, because they only happen once a year. (I used to file quarterly but I’m not making very much money right now, so I can get by doing it once in April.) What really blows me away is that I am grown-up enough to go buy groceries when I need them.

Let me ask you: Do you ever marvel at your ability to do any of the following?

buy groceries
pay the internet/electric/gas/phone bill/condo fee/tax man
get to a place (any place!) on time, with your act together
give to a charity
get to your gate early
cook a meal
go on a date
get a job, keep a job, lose a job, get another job
complete a lot of homework

I’m telling you, sometimes I cannot believe I can do any of those things. Because I am not a grown-up. I am a kid. I am a goofy, goofy kid. I don’t know how I can feed myself, half the time. I don’t know when I learned these things. But I am surviving, somehow, and I am generally content.

I do have a good mom. But my mother is not doing my homework, you know? Sometimes, I just shake my head. Because I have no idea.

17 Feb 2017

From The PaperGirl Mailbag (And the PaperGirl Retreat?)

by Mary | posted in: Day In The Life, PaperGirl Mailbag | 23

Mail from The Netherlands. How cool is that?? Letter: Marloes, Scan: Me. — Mail from Marloes from the Netherlands! How cool is that?? Letter: Marloes, Scan: Me.

Yesterday, I went to the mighty Merchandise Mart to pick up the PaperGirl mail.

I walked the whole way from school to the Mart and I was glad I did. The day was fine, the Chicago River looked pretty good, and there was a man on the Wells Street bridge smoking a cigar when I passed. (I must admit: I like the smell of a man’s cigar when I’m in a city, crossing a bridge, going to pick up the mail.) And when I got inside the Mart, I felt happy. After all, I have a key to a mailbox that will never contain a gas bill or a credit card statement, only glorious mail from people who like this blog. People like Annabelle, Richard, Katherine, Leah, Ellen, Lorel, Marloes, Deborah, and Liz.

Where do I begin?

Remember a little while back when someone suggested there be a PaperGirl retreat? Or was that me who thought it up? I can’t remember, but let me tell you: That idea keeps rolling around in my brain and I like it rolling around. When I opened the fabulous letters in this last batch, the idea of a P.G. retreat rolled up to me again for a totally selfless reason: You people should meet each other. You really should. The letters I have here in a box at the foot of my desk are written by such interesting, funny, neat people. You’re like, pre-BFFs. Trust me.

I keep fantasizing about what a PaperGirl retreat would be. It would be a quilting/writing retreat. I’d teach patchwork and writing. You could write about your quilts. You could put words on your quilts. You could just write about your life and then, when that got really hard, you could just go sew. That’s like my entire life. And along with workshop instruction and learning and fun, we’d go to the Art Institute and look at art and have some fabulous dinners downtown. We would drink really good coffee at breakfast and we’d go see a show or something at night. But the night wouldn’t go too late because I turn into a pumpkin.

Wouldn’t that be kind of great? I really love the idea of doing a workshop weekend that blends quilting and writing. Look, you heard it here first: If there’s interest, I can schedule a phone call with the one and only Carmen and we could at least think through logistics. How hard could it be? I’ve been teaching patchwork and writing long enough. I’ve been living in Chicago long enough. Hey, Rita and Lily had fun with me — my first testimonials, perhaps!

Anywhoo, it wouldn’t be a PaperGirl Mailbag post without sharing some mail, so let’s have it. Tonight, not a lace swatch or Italian linen (I haven’t forgotten about that!) but a poem, written by the irresistible, one-and-only Leah. It might seem boastful to post this poem for everyone to see, but I can’t resist the opportunity to share its charms, Leah. Rhyming “Wonder Woman-y” and using the word “gravel”? Seriously? Leah, you leave me no choice. Ahem:

In Chicago’s a sewist named Fons,
With talent to rival magic wands:
She enjoys frequent travel
O’er land, sea, and gravel
She just went to see Claus (not Hans.)

Her interests are varied and many,
Her life’s more busy than any;
Creating and planning,
Studying and cramming,
She’s a little bit Wonder Woman-y.

From Chicago, New York, or D.C.,
She writes for all others to see;
Her adventures in life
All the joy, all the strife,
On her excellent blog, th’ ‘Ol P.G.’

Reading it’s always a pleasure,
A favorite use of my leisure;
It brightens my days
In so many ways
It’s fun, insightful — a treasure!

That came in the mail! Can you believe it? Amazing.

One last thing: Of course I love to get poems (and hats and chocolate from Seattle and drawings) but I must tell you that this mailbox thing is really for you, too. It’s good to write a letter to someone. It feels good. Don’t worry about writing it “well.” Don’t worry about the perfect card. Just write to me. You might discover something.

16 Feb 2017

“The Gift of a Closer Look” (From The Quilt Scout.)

by Mary | posted in: Quilting, The Quilt Scout | 3

Star_of_Bethlehem_with_Pomegranate_Trees,_New_York,_c._1850_-_Museum_of_Fine_Arts,_Boston_-_DSC02710 — Star of Bethlehem with Pomegranate Trees, New York, c. 1850. Image: Wikipedia via Museum of Fine Arts, Boston.

Tonight, I’m gonna scoot you over to the newest Quilt Scout column, brought to you by the fine folks at Quilts, Inc., the people who bring you Quilt Market, Quilt Festival, and all manner of cool quilt industry things that you should know about (like the upcoming “Beauty In Pieces” exhibit, which has been juried and judged and all that. I’m sure they’re going to let the folks know the results very soon. For the record: Everyone is amazing and quilters are the best people on the planet.)

This one was fun to write because I describe the quilt history research project I’m doing for my cool class in the Fiber and Material Studies Department. I am debating whether or not to send it to my professor. On the one hand, she’d love it; on the other hand, gross. The teacher’s pet thing has never been a good look, you know?

Enjoy, comrades.

14 Feb 2017

The Writer’s (Scary) Workshop.

by Mary | posted in: Day In The Life | 8

A basic response form; in grad school, they're a little more involved. Usually. Image: Wikipedia. — A basic response form; in grad school, they’re a little more involved. Usually. Image: Wikipedia.

A gal pursuing an MFA in Writing at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago (SAIC) needs to take a seminar, an elective, and a workshop each term. There’s plenty more stuff you have to do on top of that, but those are the three categories under which actual courses fall.

On Thursday, I have to send out 15-20 pages of writing to the people in my spring workshop — and I’m nervous about it.

The writer’s workshop comes as a standard feature in any writing degree program and countless creative writing courses ’round the world. The writer’s workshop is a place for a student to get thoughtful feedback on her work from multiple perspectives and have a meaningful discussion with like-minded people (read: fellow writers.)

It goes like this:

The writer provides her pages a week before class. Her classmates read her work carefully, make notes, respond to questions she may have posed beforehand. When workshop time comes, people go around the room and give their in-depth, generous-but-firm feedback while the teacher acts as benevolent moderator. The respondents ask for clarifications as needed; they pose questions. The writer isn’t usually allowed to comment until all feedback has been shared, however; she just takes notes, nods, and goes, “Mm-hm.” When everyone has shared their glowing praise and diplomatic criticism, she is allowed to respond to a few things. Workshop over, she thanks her fellow students, collects their notes, then goes back to her writing desk excited to incorporate what she’s gleaned from the vibrant conversation while at the same time realizing she must stay true to her vision.

That’s the best-case scenario. And plenty of workshops go something like that. Other ones, not so much. This is because there are problems with the standard workshop model. Several problems that come to mind include:

workshops are full of human beings and human beings are fickle and weird (ask me how I know) and this affects how people read, think (or not think), and give feedback
when you’re in the middle of writing something, it can be detrimental to have even really nice people telling you what they do or don’t like about what you’re working on
if you don’t have a thick skin, you may cry
if you don’t have a clear vision, you may falter
if you don’t stay open-minded, you may waste a great opportunity to improve your work

Workshops that have gone off the rails make for horror stories. You can actually google “writers’ workshop horror stories” and be entertained for a good ten minutes, even if you’re not a writer.

When I was an undergrad at the University of Iowa, I took exactly one writing course (comedy for the stage, in case you’re wondering.) Other than that, until I started grad school, I had never taken a writing class in my life — and I had certainly never been in a formal workshop. My fall workshop was pretty good. But I’m nervous about this one next week.

I’m nervous partly because the class is big: There will be 15 response sheets coming to me a week from today. Fifteen! I’m nervous because the pages I’m turning in have been worked and worked but aren’t finished, yet. I’m nervous because I’m writing about my dad.

But there’s value in sharing these particular pages. I want to know where my blind spots are in the draft; I’m actually a little stuck right now because of those blind spots. My classmates can help me, even if it’s going to be really painful to hear their criticism. There will be that, make no mistake; I am writing my little patootie off and it’s still so far from where it needs to be. Wish me luck.

And by the way: I AM SO EXCITED FOR YOU ALL TO READ THIS BOOK! Sorry. I never do that. I never use all-caps. But sometimes when I’m struggling I just think about the day when I announce the book deal and you all get a special pre-order price and an autographed copy and all that. I really do think about that, how PaperGirl is a snack but the book I’m writing is a meal.

You’re invited for dinner. You’re so, so invited. Sit by me.

12 Feb 2017

So Soon, Luggage?

by Mary | posted in: Day In The Life, Work | 16

Not what I'm looking for, exactly, but at least it wouldn't make noise. Image: Wikipedia. — Not what I’m looking for — but at least it wouldn’t make noise. Image: Wikipedia.

The writer’s conference was fabulous in every way. I have arrived home inspired, encouraged, and feeling generally optimistic my life as a writer.

But the trip was not without its pain, as you know, and I’m afraid that it wasn’t just nostalgia pain I had to endure. This trip forced me to admit a painful truth, and that painful truth is that my luggage is dead. I have to buy new luggage. Maybe even before QuiltCon in two weeks. It’s bad, you guys.

This luggage situation really frosts my tarts* because the luggage I have been using for the past couple years was way, way too expensive to be pooping out on me this soon. Nevertheless, both of my silver hard-top Zero Halliburton suitcases have major problems. Suitcase One has latches that no longer stay latched and call me crazy, but I kind of want the contents of my suitcase to, you know, stay put until I decide otherwise. The horror of seeing one’s suitcase half-open as it comes around on the baggage claim is hard to describe. Is something valuable falling out?? Possibly more horrifying: Is something embarrassing falling out?? Note that “something valuable” would be earrings and “something embarrassing” would be any number of lady items.

Suitcase Two has a wheel problem. This is a nice way to say that the wheels on Suitcase Two are surely the most poorly-designed objects on or off a suitcase that ever were designed ever on the planet. And no, I am not a designer of suitcase wheels; I’m not saying I could do better. Except that it’s clear common sense was not drawn upon in the design of the blinkin’ things and they should have consulted me.

The wheels are plastic, which I’ll concede seems standard. But the two back wheels feature plastic brakes. The brakes are activated by pressing down on small square buttons on the top of the…fender (I don’t know suitcase wheel words!) that stop the wheel from rolling when deployed. This would be a nice feature if you are a person who takes many sea journeys, I imagine; there, you would need to keep your luggage from rolling to and fro on the deck of the ship. But if you’re not a fancy sailor or a well-heeled woman on the Titanic, why on Earth do you need brakes on your luggage wheels? (Confession: I have engaged the brake buttons a couple times while on a packed subway. Having brakes that kept my suitcase from rolling back and forth and into people as the train lurched was sort of cool, though it’s amazing how well one’s foot works just fine in such situations.)

And the brakes break. (I replaced a wheel once already.) And the brakes get stuck halfway down on the wheels. On this latest trip, as I rolled Suitcase One through the lobby of the hotel and through various airport terminals, I discovered that the brakes are now in some half-stuck state. This not only makes it hard to roll my luggage along for the resistance, it creates the most ridiculous, unbelievably loud and continuous sound. When I pull my luggage, it sounds like someone is intermittently honking a sad clown horn. It sounds like a duck is crying. My luggage sounds like a sad, plaintive duck.

You should know that my superstar stepdad, Mark, turned me onto the Zero Halliburton brand (no connection to the Halliburton company you’re thinking of, by the way.) Mark was a commercial airline pilot for years and was in the Air Force before that; the guy knows a few things about luggage. He bought me my first Zero suitcase back when I was in college because he has long believed it’s the best stuff on the market. I used that suitcase until it was too banged up to take on business trips; it was awesome. After retiring that one, I got another Zero suitcase that served me well for years, and I travel a lot and am generally hard on things like shoes and eyeglasses and suitcases. But neither of those pieces had wheel brakes. I will look at the company’s website, see if there are any sales going on, and probably get another couple pieces from them.

Unless you brilliant PG readers tell me otherwise. So, how about it? Do you have luggage brands you swear by? Remember: I haul heavy books and quilts from one coast to another on average 2.4 times per month. I can’t mess around with stuff from Wal-Mart. Nothing wrong with it, but this is serious stuff. Talk to me!

*This expression has come into my field of vision via my beautiful, talented, valued, exceedingly competent assistant Carmen, who used it the other day in an email. Love you, Carm.

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