More advice! Less rambling! MORE AWESOME!! Check out the new and improved, more in-depth post about writer’s block!
Handcrafting beaded bracelets and necklaces is more well-known now, thanks to Pinterest (and the Internet in general)–but the craft of beaded rings is just now beginning to appear more often on craft blogs and pinners’ boards.
What I love about these rings is that even though they’re made with beads and wire, they still look delicate and pretty, just like I like my jewelry to be. (The last one, the wire rosette, doesn’t have beads but is actually my favorite!) Read through, grab your ring sizer and ring mandrel, plus some beads and wire, and pick your favorite to try!
This tutorial involves bead sewing and a little bit of knowledge of various stitch types, but it’s still pretty simple, and it makes a great, vintage-looking piece!
I love how classy the single bead looks when wrapped around with silvery threadlike wire. Who would ever believe this could be so simple?
The delicate clusters of white pearlescent beads in this “8-petal flower” ring have gotten away with me. Be still my beading heart. 🙂
This tutorial makes a fully-beaded ring (band and all)–easily customizable with different colors of stones, though this blue/white/silver combination is already lovely.
Ooooo SHINY! Even though this one doesn’t technically have beads on it, it does still require beading techniques to make. Swirls of shining wire wrapped around each other form a tiny rosette (which I’m tempted to make and use as a handmade engagement ring!).
What Do You Think?
Which is your favorite? How would you customize one of these designs for your own? Tell me in the comments!
This rare art post is now MUCH better (and slightly refocused), less blathery and more inspiring. Click and enjoy!
One of the things that has always bugged me about writing advice is the inevitable “writing routine advice.” You know, the kind that starts with something like “you must wake up at 5:00 AM” and usually has advice similar to “you must write 4,000 words every day,” “you have to write with pencil and paper,” or whatever other “requirements” they want to stick in there.
My main problem with this? No matter what advice you get, it’s advice that worked for SOMEONE ELSE. This advice may not apply to you at all.
And yet, we budding writers are often expected to adopt routines that successful writers have created for themselves, simply because the writer was successful. We are not only encouraged to do this–in fact, if we dare to make up our own routine, we’re often brushed off with a discouraging remark: “well, you’ll never be successful doing it THAT way.” (Think it doesn’t happen? I’ve personally heard that one so many times I could quote it in my sleep.)
Why Others’ Writing Routines May or May Not Work for You
Writing routines are meant to encourage dedication and increase mental comfort. The motivation behind any routine, actually, is that over time it will become habit–thus, why many writers seek out a routine so that their writing becomes habitual and not done in unpredictable fits and spurts.
I understand that. But my routine, for instance, includes no early mornings, no coffee, and no set word goal for the day. In fact, I can’t actually hold myself to stringent “rules” about my writing, especially time-related rules, because I get wrapped up with anxiety about “not doing it right/not doing it on time” and consequently can’t even write one sentence. (See: my current issues with writing my blog entries ahead of schedule–I freak out about how much time I don’t have to write them, and end up depending on procrastination-driven adrenaline to write ’em all.)
My point? Sometimes, routines can actually hold you BACK when it comes to writing. If the routine is unnatural for you, too harsh, or even just too many steps to follow, you’ll end up defeating yourself over and over instead of actually getting any writing done, good or bad.
My Routine: Ridiculously Easy (Which Means I’ll Actually FOLLOW It)
In pursuit of my own writing routine, I’ve developed the following, relatively free-form one:
For every hour I’m on the computer, I take 15 minutes away from whatever task I’m doing and write.
Stupidly simple, right? It doesn’t have anything in there about getting up at a certain time to write, how much I have to write, or anything. It’s just asking me to take 15 minutes out of every hour that I’m already on the computer anyway to write a little more on my novel (which is also stored on my computer). All I have to do is go to the novel file, open it, and type. My routine doesn’t even tell me what parts of the story I’m supposed to write, or anything. It’s as free-form and low-pressure as you can get.
AND IT WORKS. Case in point: I just took 15 minutes off from writing this very blog post and instead wrote on my novel, simply because I felt like switching tasks. My ADD brain is happier with frequent switching of tasks, which is one reason I made my routine work this way. Also, since I’m not pressured to write a certain number of words or work within a certain time limit, all my brain resources are free for creativity instead of bound up in anxiety loops.
How to Make Your Own Writing Routine
- First, know yourself. If you know you’re a night owl and won’t get anything productive done in the morning, don’t schedule your writing time for 6:00 AM. If you know you work better with a deadline and a specific word count goal, set those goals for yourself. Acknowledging and respecting how you naturally work best is the first key to a successful writing routine.
- Make it easy to follow. However you define “easy,” make your writing routine so easy for you to follow that you enjoy it and actually WANT to do it. I don’t hold with writing advice that basically tells you to treat your writing routine like it’s an obligation–if I don’t like to do something, I just ain’t gonna do it. (Maybe that makes me a quitter, but if so, then how did I end up with 165,000 words of my novel written thus far? LOL)
- Remember that “writing” time includes editing or even rereading your work. Even if you feel awful and have no desire to actually write, you can still edit or reread your own work as a lower-impact “writing” activity. In fact, sometimes I’ve started off not feeling like writing much of anything, and once I dig into my novel a little bit, either editing or rereading, I end up wanting to write more!
My lovely poetic post about dreamed melodies has been fleshed out a little, but it’s still short, sweet, and true to life. Click and enjoy some uplifting creative musing!
When we last saw our musical heroine (LOL), I was battling against my own problems as well as trying to get the cast members interested and invested in their performance. With the show literally days away, we were still struggling.
Running Out of Time…!
Despite several rehearsals with me attempting to conduct the music and my friend directing, it seemed like Seussical was just not coming together. The cast as a whole had a hard time staying on-task; they were getting just as discouraged (and as tired) as we both were, having rehearsals that felt like they lasted days, without any significant improvement to show for it.
Act 2 of Seussical especially was very difficult, with its more demanding musical numbers and stage wizardry. But the strangest thing? As Act 1 slowly got polished, Act 2 languished, and several times my friend even mentioned just performing Act 1 and leaving out the second part altogether. It was a drastic idea…but with so little time to go, either cutting the show down to the performable parts or scrapping it altogether were looking like our best options.
I fervently did not want this to happen; my friend and I had worked too hard, and a few of the cast members had worked too hard, to let it all go down the drain. So, on the Monday before the first show, I came in ready to “inspire the kids to work hard,” having practiced all my best pep talks.
But when I came in, I learned the news: in the time since our last rehearsal, my friend had had several conversations with many of the cast members, who were actually thinking of quitting the performance because “it was going to be a disaster.” My friend’s amazing (and galvanizing) response was something along these lines: “Go ahead and quit; we will do the show without you.”
Apparently, over the next several minutes, word got around to the rest of the cast that the show would still go on even without some of its leads. They had thought that the threat of them quitting would somehow tank the show completely; they had now found out to the contrary. Much begging and negotiating followed, and somehow by Monday all the cast came back absolutely ready to work and to do their best!
The Last Week of Rehearsals: A Complete 180
The afternoon rehearsals on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday felt like we were working with a completely different cast. Lines were learned, songs were practiced until mastered, and some cast members even put down their phones for the first time since I had begun to work with them. Best of all, the cast began to work as a team, listening to each other, even helping each other with lines, songs, and costumes.
Riding this tidal wave of sudden success, I also learned how to conduct them better, especially when we rigged up a lighted music stand so that the actors could see me conducting from the back of the tiny auditorium. At last, it felt like I could communicate with them and help them stay on-task; at last, I felt like I was doing my job and helping them to do theirs. As a result, I gained their respect and trust, which had been lacking since the beginning because I hadn’t yet proven myself to them.
The dress rehearsal performance on Friday, followed by the two shows on Saturday, were whirlwinds of activity (and my shoulders and arms had never been so sore! LOL). I got to enjoy the show as well as help to keep it together; I could have burst with how proud I was of the cast’s hard work.
Despite sound and lighting issues (one of the light panels self-destructed during the dress rehearsal, and a speaker blew during each of the Saturday performances), we managed to keep it rolling and keep it professional. Part of the dress rehearsal performance was done with the house lights up, for instance, and yet the cast kept going. And, when the speaker blew halfway through the second song of the 3:30 Saturday performance, I saw several of the cast members’ eyes widen; I kept conducting, they kept singing, and we finished the song a capella while my friend and the tech crew hooked up the new speaker. The cast carried it off beautifully each time, learning and displaying the true meaning of “the show must go on.”
The show was a good success for the drama department, bringing in not only parents and friends, but much of the community as well. Many people were impressed with how professional and pulled-together the show was, and it created a new awareness of the drama department at our local high school (which has been more sports-focused in recent years). All in all, we were flushed with victory after a long and hard-fought battle, and I felt honored to have even been a part of it.
What I Learned
This experience was quite educational for me, in some negative ways and positive ways. I learned that I’m probably not going to be a concert pianist any time soon, but that I can do some musical things, like conducting, that I’d never tried my hand at before (literally or figuratively). I also learned that doing a perfect job is less important than being consistent and persistent; I became less concerned with how perfectly I was “performing” for the students, and instead concerned myself with being a role model for a good work ethic, continuing to try until I was successful. (Believe me, that was HARD for this OCD perfectionist to abide by!)
I know that I didn’t do much to help the show be its best; my friend really accomplished that by motivating her students in the only way she could reach them. I saw how much they respected her for her no-nonsense honesty, even when the truth was temporarily harsh on them. But I do know that I helped encourage and give help where it was needed, and for that, I can be grateful and proud, too. For once, I wasn’t the star of the show, but it didn’t matter–I got to help.
My first post about my novel now makes about 200% more sense, with better organization/title lines and less silly off-target rambling. (Also, I fixed the long-dead link in the post as well! WOO!)
Today, I’ll share with you the first part of the story behind why I had to stop posting here for almost a month. I had to devote quite a bit of time to helping with the production of Seussical at my local high school–but instead of being a performer or being directly involved with the making of the music, I was working as a support to the cast, directing the music from the back of the small theater. For the first time in my life, I was working from behind the conductor’s stand.
I Didn’t Start Out as Music Director, Though!
I have no formal training in conducting/directing; in fact, when the high school drama teacher (also a friend of mine from our school days together) contacted me in the fall of 2013 about helping with Seussical, she wanted me to help perform the music, playing the piano alongside several student musicians. I accepted the task gladly, willing to help out where I could.
Bit Off More than I Could Chew!
I have more experience with playing the piano than I do with directing, but as I found out, the Seussical music was far harder than anything I had ever attempted to play. I struggled with even just learning the right-hand or left-hand parts, let alone trying to put them together. Reading piano sheet music has always been hard for me, since I naturally learn music quickest by listening to it, but even as hard as I applied myself, the music did not become easier with practice. In fact, it seemed to get tougher the harder I practiced. There were literally nights I openly sobbed at the keyboard after an hour of fruitless practice, feeling utterly unable to play anything on the page.
Lost in this fog of failure and disappointment, I actually did not attend several rehearsals which I should have. I was deeply ashamed, thinking thoughts like “I’m good at music, so why am I having trouble with this? Those kids need someone more dependable; I’m awful, I suck at this.” I feared showing up and having my out-of-tune blunderings audible to everyone–I wasn’t supposed to be this awful at playing the piano, and I certainly wasn’t going to allow the horrible “plink-plunk” junk I was doing to be heard. (Yes, I was a coward, but a perfectionistic coward.) Eventually, the stress of trying to learn and play this music even threatened my health temporarily.
Issues, Problems, and Setbacks, Oh My!
Little did I know the number of setbacks we were about to experience; my music and health difficulties were about to be the least of our troubles. For instance, there were several different versions of Seussical music out there; I had one version on sheet music and CD, the school had another sheet music version, and yet another soundtrack was available through YouTube, and all of them were different in various places. Very frustrating trying to sync up 3 different versions of music! Plus, we lost several days of rehearsal to snow days, and half of the original cast members ended up dropping out entirely, leaving my friend scrambling to cast new actors and teach them their parts.
When I finally did attend a rehearsal, I learned that the new cast was having just as much trouble singing the music as I was having trying to play it. In the end, we reevaluated our stance on the music, and we decided to use pre-recorded music instead, since that’s what the students could rehearse with best (and since all the other musicians had dropped out due to the difficulty of the music). My new task, then, was to direct the music, helping the cast members stay on the beat and keep their vocals synced up with the recorded music.
Learning on the Fly
Like I said, I’ve never had any formal training in conducting or directing. I have, however, had almost 20 years’ experience singing in choirs and being directed–I have watched many conductors work, and so I thought I could potentially do much better by the music directing than I had done by the sheet music.
But I knew I couldn’t struggle on alone, not with so little experience. Thus, I consulted as many music directors as I knew, as well as remembering the impromptu conducting lessons my high school choir director had given during my time there. Instead of holing up and trying to do it mostly on my own, as I had done earlier, I reached out and asked others for help, and I got lots of really helpful advice in return.
The first couple of rehearsals with me directing the music were a little bit rusty (OK, a lotta bit rusty), as we tried different ways of lighting my hands so that the students could see my movements, and as we worked with them to help them learn their parts. Often we both struggled with keeping the students’ attention focused on their work, with gossip, disinterest, and cell phone distractions running rampant. Sometimes I messed them up because I didn’t know their version of the sheet music; sometimes my attention faltered and I ended up behind. But I had to swallow the shame I felt at not performing perfectly and keep trying; after all, the show was scheduled to go on in mid-March!
What Happened Next?
Did all these setbacks and struggles spell doom for the production? Did the show even go on? Find out in the next installment on April 19th!
I’m not only describing the next-to-impossible fight to go to sleep every night, when all my electronic devices are beckoning me to DO MORE THINGS on the Internet, etc. I’ve actually found myself disconnecting from my artistic side more and more as I have become involved with things on the Internet. There just seems to be less time for me to be creative when there’s one more article or video I haven’t seen yet. (This very blog post is late because I started out trying to write it and ended up wrapped up on Pinterest for an hour!) Because I get so thoroughly involved in what I’m doing on a screen, I end up locking out the outside world–and thus, my creativity sense is dulled. How can I write or sing about a world I’m no longer in direct contact with?
The “Off Switch:” An Abrupt but Necessary Change for Creativity
What if we all turned off our devices, our news feeds, our constant stream of data from the outside world, for 5 minutes? I don’t mean just locking the screens and putting the devices aside, but literally turning every device of distraction off and going to another room. What could we start to be aware of? Our own bodies? The tick-tick-tick of time passing? Our family members in the house? The feel of the seat we’re sitting in? The weather outside the window?
As connected to my devices as I am now (and I’d guess that most of us are like that), I think such a disconnect would be VERY difficult–almost impossible at first. We’re all Internet junkies these days, relying on constant connectivity to avoid being bored in line, to avoid difficult conversation, etc. A 5-minute “off switch” would force all of us to confront what’s truly in our minds, and perhaps an idea or two can begin to synthesize at last. Even if you don’t think of yourself as creative, simply not being bombarded with everyone else’s thoughts and worldly data can be incredibly freeing!
Give It a Try!
When you turn off all your devices and go to another room to sit quietly, allow your own thoughts to bubble to the surface. This is what makes the “off switch” different from meditation (I can never clear my head of ALL thoughts, so this is the next best thing). If you find yourself at a loss for what to think about (or are itching to get back to being connected), think about this: what are you missing in the world? What do you wish existed?
Take these 5 minutes and generate something from within your own head, instead of what you think about the daily headlines and that annoying person’s status message. Who knows, you may come up with something brilliant that would have never seen the light of day without the “off switch!”