In which a planning new year is like a jar of embroidery floss ends
(my apologies if you get this twice, substack and i had a small operational kerfuffle.)
I think it started in 2014. And I think I got the idea from Amie Kaufman. But honestly, I am not sure of either of those things. What I do remember is that the first time I picked a Word For The Year, the word was “yes”. I was going to accept invitations. I was going to agree to school visits. I was going to take every job publishing would throw my way. And I did. And it was exhausting.
When you’re cross stitching, you cut the threads into manageable lengths so they don’t get too snarly while you’re working. I usually don’t go much longer than the length of my arm (which I then double over) at a time. And it still snarls, no matter what tips and tricks I try, but at least it’s workable. Eventually, you run out of thread, usually before you run out of stitches, and then you have to weave the end in, trim it, and start again.
After 2014 (or whenever), I lost track of Words for a bit. I know I had a “no(, thank you)” in there somewhere, but the last word I remember selecting was for 2020. You can imagine how that went. 2021 was “cope”, 2022 was “draft”, and 2023 was “redirect”. And now here we are again in 2024, and it’s time to pick a word.
There’s a game all fibre artists play in one form or another, and that game is called Thread Chicken. Thread Chicken happens when you are SO CLOSE to the end of a line or a colour or whatever, and you are just DETERMINED to make the thread last long enough. Thread is a finite resource and the laws of physics very much apply, and yet we all do it, expending effort to conserve something we’re not actually wasting, even though we are convinced we are.
I love talking to my friends about which words they are picking and why. It’s fascinating to see how other people form goals and plan to move forward. I have learned a lot as well, even if it’s just something that’s not going to work for me. It’s not really a resolution, so somehow that makes it feel more achievable. Another useful non-resolution is Leigh Bardugo’s Begin As You Mean To Go ON (#BAYMTGO) where you spend 15 minutes on New Year’s Day doing a thing you want to focus on in the coming months.
Occasionally, I win Thread Chicken. It usually involves swearing, but sometimes I make it. More often, I waste time trying to extend that thread, only to end up more frustrated than ever, because now instead of five stitches, I have a half a one, and I have to cut new floss anyway. Winning Thread Chicken isn’t the point though, because that is still wasted time. That’s where the jar comes in.
On January 1st, 2024, I’ll read Jo Graham’s Stealing Fire, which I have done on that day for several years now. I’ll spend 15 minutes writing something that I’ve been poking at. I’ll make lists of my hopes and goals. I might make bread. I might even go outside for a walk. It’s not a huge amount of time, 15 minutes, but once you start stacking them, they add up.
I picked a small jar, so the threads are all squashed in. I thought about switching to a bigger one, but by the time I got there, most of my jars were full of jam. It’s sat next to my work basket, and even though I have traveled with my cross stitch this year, every thread end has gone into the jar. Some are very short, Thread Chicken I couldn’t resist. Some are long, a freedom I gave myself.
The 2023 word worked. I spent a lot of time this year thinking about what I want to write and what sort of writer I want to be. It’s not a huge change, but it is enough that I am excited about getting back to work after a couple years of be slightly intimidated by it. I redirected. I took all of the ends that I have accumulated, pieces of projects that I had finished or discarded, and I saw them not as waste or remembrance, but as a bright mosaic of colours in a jar, flashes of things to come.
I’m excited for the year. I have a Lego Rivendell to build and cross stitch projects to sew. There’s TV to watch and books to read. There’s people to see and a garden to tend through its second summer (okay, the garden will mostly be Amy, but I DO mow the lawn sometimes). And there are words. Worlds I can’t wait to build and stories I can’t wait to write. And to start it all of, there’s:
Pretty Furious, the next instalment of the EK Johnston Multiverse, will be published on April 16, 2024. It is available for preorder in both Canada and the United States.