This is a post of highly personal celebration.

Someone asked me recently what I did, and there was this little explosion under my ribs. (I don’t think she saw.)

“I do various things,” I said. “I write fiction, I make textile art, I teach.”

All quite true: I do.

What I didn’t mention was [...]]]>

This is a post of highly personal celebration.

Someone asked me recently what I did, and there was this little explosion under my ribs. (I don’t think she saw.)

“I do various things,” I said. “I write fiction, I make textile art, I teach.”

All quite true: I do.

What I didn’t mention was that two important things have changed recently, which make my answer to that question feel very different.

Changes!

Thing One: Back in November, after much careful thought and discussion, I resigned from my day job (copyeditor at an academic publisher). And somehow, even though I haven’t actually worked there since just before the Feaster was born in 2007, this felt like a major development.

Thing Two: As of December, thanks to the galvanising effect of Thing One and also to the good offices of a kind mentor, I have a literary agent. She’ll be working on placing my novel as soon as I finish the current round of edits.

So when I said “I write fiction, I make textile art, I teach”, an inner part of me was jumping up and down blowing a party squeaker and waving a sparkler. This is it! she was yelling. This is your JOB now!

My work…

I mean, my work – the work that blazes through my nights and days, won’t let me rest, fizzes and bulges in my brain until I sit down and give it what it demands -

…is now my job.

How cool is that?

Very, is how.

And the brilliant thing is, I’m still doing all the same stuff. But now I’m doing it officially. I’m my own boss. I’m out.

It’s like I’ve moved across the street: I’m looking at the same view, but my perspective has changed. This side is sunnier, and more spacious.

The Revolutionary Horde

So you won’t be astonished to hear that I’m working hard on the business side of String Revolution these days. I’ll shortly be opening registration for my shiniest idea yet, a pattern club of such glowing fabulosity that I do the happy dance whenever I think about it.

Aaaaaaand … I’m looking for your help! If you enjoy my work, I urge you to join our mailing list, The Revolutionary Horde. This is where you’ll have prime access to all the new ideas, opportunities, and (let’s not be coy here) discounts I have to offer. You’ll also be able to help me shape the direction of String Revolution, to make sure that what I offer is exactly suited to what you need and desire.

If you’re interested, here’s the form.

(I hope it goes without saying that unsubscribing is a piece of cake, and I’ll never, ever share your details with anyone else.)

Name:

Email:

Meanwhile, if you felt like raising a whoop for me and my new internal landscape, I’d be delighted!

Up the Revolution!

I’ve had a quite extraordinary year. It feels like I started sprinting in mid-February, and didn’t stop until … well, probably until my grandmother died at the end of September. The pace picked up again in October, with a novel-writing binge followed by a marketing blitz followed by a present-making extravaganza, and whatever notions [...]]]>

I’ve had a quite extraordinary year. It feels like I started sprinting in mid-February, and didn’t stop until … well, probably until my grandmother died at the end of September. The pace picked up again in October, with a novel-writing binge followed by a marketing blitz followed by a present-making extravaganza, and whatever notions I might have had about using the time between Christmas and New Year to do some much-needed catching up and planning, they were trumped by a forceful lethargy that I am attributing only partly to the sinusy headcold that has had me in its snotty grip all week.

No matter!

Have some pretty pictures of some of my handmade presents this year.

Up at the top there, you see the earrings I made for my mother (left) and a cousin (right). Get me with my arty shot setup, and so forth. The large glass beads are by Anna Felton, who sells at the Dublin Food Co-op: each one is unique, and I think they’re utterly gorgeous. See more of her work on Flickr – I know she’s in the process of developing an online shop, but I don’t think it’s up yet.

For my mother-in-law, I made a set of quilted leaves, using the same technique as for the little wall hanging I made in 2010. Here they all are, mixed in with the cardboard templates I used. I made eleven altogether, each one a faithful portrait of an actual leaf collected last year by the mother-in-law, the children, and me. We’ll decide together, at our leisure, how to arrange and mount them.

For my mother, I dashed off a cowl by the estimable Yarn Harlot, called Pretty Thing. Very satisfactory: definitely pretty, and unquestionably a thing. Additionally, lots of fun to knit, and designed with the sort of skill and care that makes me glow happily inside. I knitted it in Araucania Botany Lace from This Is Knit, which I bought at the Knitting and Stitching Show in November. Not the absolute rightest yarn for the pattern, arguably, as it tends to swallow the stitch detail – but so soft! [Ravelled here]

For my father, I took some raw silk that I’d bought in … oh, probably the early 1990s, from Shree on Grafton Street (anyone?), and made a tie – which I forgot to photograph until we were all gathered in my parents’ candlelit kitchen, hence the terrible shot. I embroidered on it the Italian word “Sprezzatura”, meaning something along the lines of “nonchalant brilliance”, about which my father has just written a paper (he being an academic and all).

Speaking of forgetting to take photographs, not pictured are a hasty hat, knitted for my brother in unspeakably smooshy Debbie Bliss Paloma from This Is Knit (the shop itself, this time); and a beaded choker with matching earrings, which I made for my sister in a workshop at the Knitting and Stitching Show.

This won’t seem like much to some of you, but I’m frankly quite impressed at how many presents I managed to finish this year. It beats the last couple of years by a long, long way.

Meanwhile, I have major big plans for 2012, both on this blog and elsewhere. Join the Revolutionary Horde (yes, it’s a mailing list, but where’s the fun in that?) if you want the low-down. Form’s up there in the right-hand sidebar; I’ll always treat your contact details with respect and care.

And finally…

Happy new year, my lovely readers! Thank you so much for being here, and I hope 2012 brings you an endless succession of good things. I hug you!

What’s been going on at String Revolution these past few weeks?

What, indeed?

November is a month of hive-like activity in much of the (online, rich) world. There’s NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month), which you may have heard of, wherein writers attempt to produce 50,000 words in 30 breakneck, exhilarating, hilarious days.

Some bloggers, [...]]]>

What’s been going on at String Revolution these past few weeks?

What, indeed?

November is a month of hive-like activity in much of the (online, rich) world. There’s NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month), which you may have heard of, wherein writers attempt to produce 50,000 words in 30 breakneck, exhilarating, hilarious days.

Some bloggers, in response to this, have instituted NaBloPoMo (National Blog Posting Month), wherein they attempt to post every day for 30 days.

Visual artists, eschewing the restrictive confines of the “Na…Mo” label, undertake Art Every Day Month each November. And I’m sure there are more examples.

I’ve done none of these things. In fact, what I’ve done has lacked any kind of coherent planning. But nonetheless, there has been a shift in the wind around these parts, and I’ve caught the mood of the month. I’ve been announcing things. I’ve been making offers. I’ve been marketing. Best of all (if you’re me), I’ve been selling.

You could call it NaSelfProMo.

Ha. I like that.

NaSelfProMo.

As I say, I didn’t plan it this way. Most of the things I’ve posted about this month have been incubating for ages, but this is the first opportunity I’ve had to focus and get them out. So they’ve all come along in a big lump, instead of a carefully controlled trickle.

I feel like a bit of a late bloomer – like these valiant sweet peas, which just won’t stop flowering in my November garden.

Anyway, throughout this week I want to tell you again about the various offers and changes and so on, so you’ll be sure not to miss any of them. It’s a series, people!

Thing the First: The Revolutionary Horde!

I’ve been meaning to do this for ages, and now it’s finally here: String Revolution has a shiny new mailing list. Obviously, it’s called the Revolutionary Horde.

The Revolutionary Horde: Wait … that’s us!
Me: Yes! You’ve been reified, innit.

Horde members get special stuff:

1. Advance notice of all my new offers.
2. Discounts on selected products and services.
3. Invitations to Horde-only events online.
4. String-related writing that won’t appear on the blog.

Sound good to you? Join the Revolutionary Horde using this lovely fuchsia-red signup form up (or the one in the right-hand sidebar – it makes no difference).

And let me hear a Hooray!

Name:

Email:

One of my many little passions concerns the use of text in visual art. I’m particularly fond of embroidering words. For some reason, the act of stitching a word feels incredibly powerful. Text … textile … texture … it’s all there.

So back in August, when it was suggested that I propose a workshop [...]]]>

One of my many little passions concerns the use of text in visual art. I’m particularly fond of embroidering words. For some reason, the act of stitching a word feels incredibly powerful. Text … textile … texture … it’s all there.

So back in August, when it was suggested that I propose a workshop for the super-fabulous handmAid Craft Day, it’s not too surprising that I ended up teaching a beginners’ embroidery class where we used some simple line stitches to work wordy patterns.

(The Craft Day was unspeakable amounts of fun, incidentally. My class had five participants – all uncommonly quick learners – and it was such a buzz to see their skills improve over the two hours.)

Those are my four designs up there. I brought along two copies of each so that people would have a choice.

And nobody wanted to stitch “EGO”! I was surprised. Are you surprised? I think that one is deliciously subversive.

Anyway.

I have leftover traced designs. I have more fabric. I have a fineliner pen and a makeshift lightbox, and I’m not afraid to use them. So I’m thinking … kits.

Kits?

Kits!

Each kit will include the following:

• A square of vintage white linen with the design hand-traced on it
• A 6″ / 15cm wooden embroidery hoop
• Two embroidery needles
• Pre-cut discs of wadding (aka batting), card, and cotton fabric, for finishing
• Full printed instructions

To complete the project, you will also need embroidery threads and a short length of ribbon or cord for hanging the finished piece.

(I thought about including these elements too. But colour is such a personal thing – I prefer to leave those choices up to you.)

I will be selling sixteen kits in total – four in each design. Each kit is priced at US$27 – including postage anywhere in the world.

Speaking of postage…

This year’s posting deadline for parcels sent worldwide from Ireland to arrive in time for Christmas is 6 December. It’s later for places closer to Ireland, of course, but I’m not keen on going down to the wire with these.

Therefore, I’m setting a cutoff date for orders, of Friday 2 December. I’ll guarantee dispatch by 6 December, and we can all rest easy. (Also, this way you’ll have more time to make the project as a gift, if that’s your game.)

So, to repeat, order your kit by Friday 2 December

(Gosh, you know, that’s less than a week from now. Eek!)

Here are the designs:

42 It’s the Ultimate Answer! To the Ultimate Question! Of Life! The Universe! And Everything! With its open shapes and absence of fiddly bits, this is the simplest of the four designs. Rather like the Answer, really. 42, man. Deep Thought would definitely want you to stitch this.

EGO I think this one is my favourite (today, at least). I love the way it quietly turns the social history of embroidery inside out, matching the Victorian ideal “feminine” activity with that indecorous allusion to the self – writ LARGE, and all. Bold curves, straight lines: “EGO” is more of a challenge than “42″, but not by much. Do you have what it takes to stitch this?

dare This design was the most popular at my workshop in September. I love the simple exhortation. Unassuming, yet assertive. Quietly exciting. Tighter curves and more complex letter shapes make “dare” a little more challenging than either “42″ or “EGO”, but it’s still well within the reach of a beginner. Dare. Do you?

The Truth Oh, you know me. Nobody could call me dishonest. But I do have this tendency - The Revolutionary Horde: Oh … I just got that. Oh dear. Me: This tendency, as I was saying … to embroider … THE TRUTH! *sound of thousands of thighs being slapped in paroxysms of uncontrollable mirth* Geddit? Oh, go on. You know you want to. (This is the trickiest design, obviously, what with the twiddles and the tight curves. Worth it, though.)

Bundle Option! NEW! Someone suggested a bundle, and I said to myself, “Damn, why didn’t I think of that?” You can now buy all four designs for the price of three. That’s $81, instead of $108, saving you $27. Please tell me in the PayPal “notes” field if you’d like the kits packaged separately when I send them to you (for instance, if you’re giving some or all of them as gifts). Otherwise, I’ll do the sustainable thing and use one set of packaging for all four. Deadline is still this Friday!

I sincerely believe that the English-speaking world is divided into two types of people.

If you are of the first type, you’ll find that you cannot look at the above image without dissolving in a puddle of helpless mirth [...]]]>

Grand Experiment
Running Totals

NINE (9) items sold, FORTY-ONE (41) to go.

Get yours here!

I sincerely believe that the English-speaking world is divided into two types of people.

If you are of the first type, you’ll find that you cannot look at the above image without dissolving in a puddle of helpless mirth (I include myself in this category – and I drew the damn thing, so that’s hardly even decent).

If you are of the second type, you’ll tend to hold us first-typers in a kind of detached, piteous disdain. Try as you might, you simply cannot understand what it is about this crudely drawn, childish piece of irrelevancy that we are finding so terribly amusing. You suspect we’re putting it on. Maybe even having a joke at your expense…

In short, you’re either going to GET my gloriously vicious pun (which I’ve incubated, by the way, for at least a year before deciding to inflict it on the world), or you are NOT.

If you’re of the second type, you might like to click away now, before I completely destroy my image in your eyes.

…

Have they gone? … Good.

So, fellow pun-connoisseurs, I’m proposing a Grand Experiment

As long-time readers know well by now, String Revolution is a business, and I am a rationally enthusiastic but emotionally reluctant business owner. I’ve come a long way in addressing my severe marketing phobia, but there’s more to be done.

And here’s the thing: I’m thinking that among the ranks of well-read, language-loving, pun-appreciating, politically literate speakers of English, there must be a sizable constituency of people who would absolutely love to have a physical copy of Colonial Eggacy of their very own – on a mug, say, or a T-shirt.

I mean, if you GET it, you GET it, right? What’s not to like about owning something that makes you grin like a loon every time it catches your eye?

TO THIS END, Colonial Eggacy mugs and T-shirts are available in my Zazzle shop as of today, Monday 21 November 2011.

And here’s the Grand Experiment part:

I want to sell 50 of these.

Now, my usual strategy for a product launch like this would be to talk about it a little bit, here and there, for a day or two, until the shame and despair catch up with me, whereupon I never speak of it again.

In fact, already, I have a fuzzy little monster sitting on my shoulder, muttering, “We told Twitter and Facebook about this hours ago and nobody’s bought any yet – they’re obviously not interested.”

So this time, I’d like to do something different.

The tack I’m going to take is that there are 50 people out there who will truly love and appreciate owning this image in concrete form, and it’s my job to make sure they don’t spend the rest of their lives that little bit less gleeful for never having seen it. Because that would be sad.

Will you help?

You will? Thank you, lovely person!

Here are a few ideas:

1. You could link on your chosen social media to my Zazzle shop, or to the two individual products.
2. You could link on your chosen social media to this post, so people can read the backstory about the Grand Experiment.
3. If you yourself adore Colonial Eggacy, or if you know someone who would adore it – and if you have the budget – you could even, you know, BUY ONE (or several).
4. You could tell me what other Zazzle products would be suitable candidates for Colonial Eggification.
5. You could post a comment here, or contact me some other way, conveying general support. (Yes, that totally counts – I’m kind of petrified!)
6. You could suggest ways of getting the word out that I might not have thought of.
7. In a little while, if you notice me falling silent about the Grand Experiment, you could give me a gentle nudge.

Meanwhile, here’s what I’ll be doing: Not shutting up about this until 50 items have been sold.

(Just to contextualise, that will represent a major increase in my Zazzle sales.)

I’m allowing myself three months. If it happens sooner than that, I reserve the right to set a new target. I’ll update you periodically (you might want to subscribe to the blog and/or join the Revolutionary Horde if you’re interested in following along with that – see the right-hand sidebar above).

Right! That’s it!

Oh, just one more thing: if you want this, please go ahead and buy it now – you would make a vicious (and, let’s face it, unrepentant) punster very, very happy.