Part One - in which we talk about dressmaking.
I remember the first dress I ever made. It was horrible. Actually, it was worse than horrible. It was weird. I had to sew together two contrasting pieces of fabric into a kind of dress, which then tied in such a way as to overlap the blue (for that’s what I chose) with the red (for contrast). I never wore that dress.
However, it taught me numerous elements of sewing. By the time I’d finished it I could cut out a pattern, zigzag my edges to avoid fraying, sew a straight seam, how to gather, turn a sewn piece of fabric inside out neatly (with the help of a pin for the corners) and edge-stitch the top of it. I could read a pattern. I knew what facings and darts were. I could mark fabric to indicate a dart and a tie. In theory, I could also mark up zippers, buttonholes and pleats. I knew a little about fabrics, but not much.
The next dress I made was a shirtwaister. Boarders at school were allowed, if their parents permitted, and paid, to do an after-school dressmaking course.
Under my mother’s guidance, I chose a shirtwaister and blue-grey pinstriped cotton. I should never have gone pattern or fabric shopping with a woman who exclusively wore navy blue and who, if she found something that fitted me as a child, bought two of the item in different colours but she had the money, so we both, reluctantly, went shopping.
In hindsight the shirtwaister – another never-worn sewing project – was a terrific learning experience. I learnt to cut out a vertically patterned fabric. I had to master a collar, more pin turning, buttonholes and buttons and proper, set–in sleeves. I had to attach a bodice to a skirt, add darts to the former and gather the latter. I had to add a side zip – possibly the most difficult challenge.
By examining the projects other students were making, I deduced that shirtwaister frocks were not highly regarded by the rather more hip thirteen year and fourteen year olds doing the course.
I followed this project up with an eight-gored blue velvet skirt which would have been successful had I actually realised that velvet is fabric with a nap. On four of my eight gores the nap ran one way, on the other four it ran the other way. My mother said this was a pattern. When my mother finally bought a forest green frock, my best friend rang me to tell me she thought my mother was having an affair.
She wasn’t – it was just a persuasive sales woman.
I didn’t wear the skirt. My mother wasn’t that persuasive. But I’ve cut out velvet skirts since and never made the same, humiliating mistake.
What does all this have to do with writing?
Welcome to the first novel.
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I understand that the first novel is an invaluable learning experience, I would think almost everyone does. To become good at something, anything, you practice.
ReplyDeleteI don't see what your own experiences with sewing (which most of us probably don't know anything about) has to do with writing in the slightest. Your metaphor is lost on me and I'm beginning to think this is just a way to share a little snippet of your past rather than a way to teach.
Perhaps wait for the second part and maybe the metaphor won't be so lost - though I agree it could be laboured! Don't forget blogs are personal spaces - so I'm allowed to share snippets of my past here. One of the reasons I began this blog was to create a space which was less formal than the discussion boards of Blackboard, in the hope of recreating some of that pre-class and post-class chat that happens in an on campus course.
ReplyDeleteLack of experience and knowledge meant that the first dress she made was a shocker, very much like a first book.
ReplyDeleteThe more she sewed, the more she learnt. The more you write, the more you learn. She also learnt from her mistakes.
She accepted guidance from someone more experienced, which also helped. The same applies to learning from experienced writers and constructive criticism.
I don't believe this post was meant to be an indepth lesson on writing, but rather an introduction to the novel that highlights the similarities writing a first novel has with many other endeavours we might attempt for the first time, for example, sewing one's first dress.
There are more metaphors in this post, but if the main ones are lost on you, the more subtle ones might be too. There are many great writing courses available online and on campus throughout Australia. (Sorry, I can't speak for other countries.) Many of these courses include using metaphors in your writing – if you're interested in learning more about metaphors and writing.
This has nothing to do with the post, but rather your comment and if you're in America, please ignore, but in Australia, practice as a verb should be spelt practise. :)