In my mystery novel, Every Last Secret, Skeet Bannion’s best
friend owns a shop called Forgotten Arts, offering knitting, spinning, and
weaving supplies. This shop is basically in the book because I love to knit,
spin, and weave, and I’ve always had a little daydream of having just such a
shop of my own.
It probably all began with
my grandmothers. One of them was an excellent needlewoman who taught me to sew
doll clothes and doll quilts, using the scraps from her many sewing and
quilting projects. This grandmother even made spring corsages for each
granddaughter from old nylon stockings, cut up and dyed into violets, iris,
lilies, and roses. The other grandmother knit and crocheted afghans, sweaters, even
golf-club covers. Neither of them knew how to spin or weave, as far as I know.
Both of my grandmothers
were great “makers from scratch,” though, whether with food, such as bread,
butter, cheeses, and such, or with household items, such as baskets, candles, lotions,
soaps, washcloths, and dish towels. My Cherokee grandmother even made her own
medicines with herbs from her garden and weeds growing in the wild. Most of
these medicines, foods, and household items were more effective or
better-tasting than the mass-produced versions available in stores and
pharmacies.
Beginning as a childhood apprentice
to these two grand old dames, I set off on a lifelong quest for the forgotten
arts. I have a huge library, and one of the categories within it is that of how-to
books. I have books on how to design and make furniture from cast-off
materials, how to make braided rugs, how to make doll houses and furniture, how
to make canned foods and jellies, how to make your own purses and shoes, and
books on yogurt making and felt making—and I have made all of these things and
more. I seek out books on forgotten arts, such as spinning, weaving, smocking,
rug hooking, tatting, and bobbin-lace making. (I’ve done the first three, but
haven’t tried the last three yet.) I even have books on how to build your own
log cabin or barn from scratch, how to milk a goat, and how to grow and use
your own natural-dye garden. If all these dystopian books come true and we have
some kind of societal collapse, I’m the neighbor you want to have.
Of course, now that writing
has taken over my life, my big floor loom in one end of the living room has
become a cat gymnasium, my sewing machine sits permanently covered on a table
where manuscripts have replaced fabric pieces, and gorgeous hand-knit projects
languish neglected and unfinished in tote bags hanging from the doorknobs of my
combination office and studio. I still believe these crafts have great value. I
used to make time for them in a busy life, but I’ve lost that knack somewhere
and need to recover it for a sense of balance. Meanwhile, I’ll write into my
books a character who has that balance and that fibercraft store that I used to
dream of owning.
In your own writing, what
aspect of your life finds its way as a part of your story? Do you give a
character some passion or aspect of your own personality? And when you’re
reading, do you like to see these bits of the author’s personality embodied in
the work?
