R.A.A.K.: Really Awesome Acts of Kindness

Posted on December 14, 2014 by gretchenwing

I assume you’ve heard of RAKs–Random Acts of Kindness. The concept even has its own foundation, full of ideas organized by topic, expense, and time. Go there, explore, see what grabs you! Then read on.

Our island is home to one gentleman whom I have yet to meet, though we’ve been waving to each other in passing. He almost always rides a bicycle, though the other day he apparently drove a pickup…in order to deliver a large load of wood chips, with which to revitalize the paths around the tiny county park down at my end of the island…

He’s been moving this pile single-handedly all week.

…and its latrine. Yup. You’ve heard of Adopt-a-Spot? This man has Adopted-a-Latrine. Here’s a look from the outside of the World’s Spunkiest Latrine:

Not a decorator color in sight!

And a close-up from the inside: yes, those are magazines in one corner (New Yorker!) flowers in the other (in summer they’re fresh; this time of year, silk), and–Christmas ornaments! Yes! Merry peeing to you!

Thank you, Latrine Fairy!

Even the obligatory admonishing notice is spunky:

Well, if you put it that way…sure thing!

To be sure, this is WAY beyond most folks’ idea of “random”–this is DEDICATED. I’ve a pretty good idea that this so-far-unknown-to-me Latrine Fairy is retired, thus has time to dedicate to creating joy and beauty in the unlikeliest of places. But no matter–hopefully one day we’ll all get to a place where we can adopt a latrine if we want to!

And meanwhile…now’s the time to share your own Random Acts of Kindness, given, received, or just heard about. Share away–I LOVE this stuff!

To Copyright or Not to Copyright: Pondering the “Writing” Part of Songwriting

Posted on October 30, 2014 by gretchenwing

Copyrights? For books, it’s a no-brainer. Duh.

For songs? Well, yes, when I first started writing them, about two and a half years ago, my music teacher persuaded me to go through the copyrighting process as each song came out. Obediently, I did…through the first eight or nine songs. Then I got tired. (And it got expensive! $35 per song adds up!)

And I started wondering…what would happen if I didn’t?

Worst-case scenario: I upload one of my songs to YouTube. It goes viral. Everyone starts singing it. A famous singer picks it up, does a cover, makes a million bucks.

You know the part of that scenario I’m focused on? “Everyone starts singing it.” The million bucks? That singer’s welcome to it. Money is not driving my songwriting impulse. Money, apparently, does not figure anywhere in my calculations.

My books? Yes, definitely. I would love to be paid for them. But they represent hours and hours, weeks, months, years of my life. My songs–maybe a few hours each, no more.

Even more than the time differential, my songs come from a place that is wholly spontaneous, unplanned, even startling…unlike my books, which represent a deliberate and highly-planned career shift.

So…by all means, check out my songs as they begin to appear in cyberspace. Let me know if you’d like the lyrics and chords. Sing them, share them, pass them on. I’ll be nothing but thrilled.

And if ~~Emmylou Harris~~ that famous singer out there ever does a Gretchen Wing cover and makes a million bucks…feel free to remind me of this post if you ever hear me snark about it.

Think I’m being naive here? My mind’s still open on this topic, so feel free to chime in.

There Is an “I” in “Community,” But It’s a Small One

Posted on October 21, 2014 by gretchenwing

Humbling experiences aren’t always fun. Or tasty. The other day, I had one that was both. I got together with a bunch of people to press apples into cider.

(all photos courtesy Gene Helfman)

It started out totally fun, as I’d expected. A huge pile of boxed and bagged apples of all colors and sizes awaited us on the sunny grass. We set up a rough assembly line along two picnic tables: wash, bleach, rinse, cut. Ferry bowls of cut fruit to the pressers; ferry bowls of bruised bits to the compost. Chat, munch, switch roles. Joke, chat, munch. Ah, work parties! On a sunny day in October! What could feel more comfortable, neighborly, plain old right?

Except that it was taking FOREVER. At one point somebody glanced up and noticed that the giant apple-box pile did not seem to have shrunk at all. Then I made the mistake of asking what time it was. I had budgeted two hours in my busy day for this communal activity. We had been there for an hour and a half, and we were maybe a quarter done.

Uh-oh.I could feel those comfy communal feelings begin to evaporate. Cue pun about “pressing issues”…

I have SO MUCH to do. Gotta finish my Book Two proofs to get them to my book designer in time to upload the fixes and still be able to have Headwinds ready at its launch party. Gotta paint the signs and put up posters for the Gretchen Wing & Friends concert next week. Augh, my concert!!! Gotta practice that run in the third song which keeps tripping me up, and that horrible C-B-flat-G progression I haven’t nailed yet. And I’m having friends over for dinner and I promised them pie. And, oh shoot, when’s the last time I vacuumed?

Did I mention that the group doing the cider-pressing was the Quaker Meeting I attend?Can there be a more communal, thoughtful, self-less group than a bunch of Quakers? Anyone else feeling the irony here?

Of course I couldn’t leave. That would just have increased the workload for everyone else. No one else was leaving early. Probably no one else was even thinking of leaving early. And plenty of them had more pressing job or family concerns than I did.

Apparently publishing a book and performing in a concert–especially within the same week–can make you kinda self-centered. Especially if you tend that way already.

So I stayed. We rinsed and chopped and chatted and munched. We laughed a lot. Finally, we stopped…not because we ran out of apples. We simply ran out of containers.

I biked home, two hours later than I had expected to, with two gallons of cider, and another gallon of perspective. Did not get my proofs fixed until the next day. Did not practice. Still have to paint those signs. Haven’t touched that vacuum. But yeah…that pie was delicious. And the cider–even more so.

Does this sound at all familiar to anyone? Do you ever struggle to let communal work find its place amid your personal “stuff,” or do you have the opposite problem? Any tips for finding that balance?

Confessions of an Imperfectionist, Part II

Posted on October 16, 2014 by gretchenwing

I have finished another landscape quilt, and I’m bursting with pride. Please, look at my pictures! But don’t look too close.

“The Enchantments”–based on my Happy Place in the central Cascades.

Detail of the bottom. I like to have the picture overflow out of the border.

A look at the variety of stitching on the back. I try to match the quilting with the picture.

About a year and a half ago, I blogged about my imperfectionism as it relates to quilts. Here’s what I said:

I’m a lousy carpenter. So I never thought I’d make it as a quilter either, and I never tried. Till I discovered landscape quilts.

Landscape quilting is just what it sounds like: you create a landscape, like a painter, substituting appliqued cloth for paint. The effect can be as realistic or impressionistic as you choose. Me, I’m all about the impressionism. Who cares if that flower has eight petals in real life? On my quilt, it gets five, and it’s still pretty.

Nice and sloppy, just like nature.Another way landscape quilting is like impressionist painting is in its wonderful, inherent sloppiness. Who cares if my stitches are uneven, or if I miss an edge here or there which might fray? Nature’s full of ragged edges, weird curves, asymmetry. It’s a gorgeous slop-fest out there! Too much precision = unnatural-looking landscape…or so says I.

Am I making a virtue of necessity? Cheering myself up for being lazy, not to mention bad at arithmetic?

You betcha. But hey: I’m quilting, aren’t I?

Now, a year and a half later, my quilts are no less imperfect. Or no more perfect. And I’m still okay with that…in quilts. But in writing? Good enough has never been good enough. That’s why I write draft after draft, that’s why I’m still re-re-re-re-re-revising Headwinds even when it’s in its final proofs.

And lo and behold, with my next community concert looming in a week and a half, I’m starting to apply that perfectionism to musical performance.

You: “What do you mean, starting to? You mean you’ve been performing up till now without caring how good you are?”

Me: “Nnnnyeah….well…not exactly. See, when I first got onstage, it was really kind of a lark. I didn’t think of myself as a “real” performer. So what if I couldn’t nail the hard chords? Isn’t that what the other musicians were there for–to cover for me while I distracted the audience with my singing?”

You: “You’re really buying this?”

Me: “Well…the alternative was to practice a WHOLE LOT more than I wanted to. So…yeah.”

You: “Wow.”

Me: “I know, right? I sat on a stool for my performances because I’d never used a strap with my guitar and I didn’t want to learn. I used a music stand in case I forgot the words or chords. I glanced at my fingers all the time, even when that meant singing away from the mike.”

You: “So is there something you’d like to say to your audiences now?”

Me: “I’m SORRY! I’ve upped my standards. Come to my concert on October 26th and you’ll see.”

You: “Yeah. But you still could have brushed your hair for the promo poster.”

Me: ***sigh…***

OK, all you fellow imperfectionists: where do you draw YOUR line? Where do you let yourself slide, and where do you NEVER let yourself slide? Are you trying to work on sliding less, or sliding more? I am very interested to hear.

The Warm Blanket of Friendship–Literally: Button Blankets

Posted on September 28, 2014 by gretchenwing

You’re about to turn 60…or 70. Your friends gather in secret. They spend hours (and hours and hours) preparing a surprise. There are no balloons involved, no h’ors d’oevres, no dancers jumping out of cakes. Your friends are making you a button blanket.

This idea, borrowed from the Native cultures of the Pacific Northwest, is vibrant on my island. Just how vibrant stunned me, though. I had heard of it, even been invited to participate in the production of one (which I had to miss, due to traveling). But not until I saw a display at our community library did I realize how deeply blanketed in friendship we Lopezians are.

This badger blanket (for my singin’ buddy Kenny), features wool made from Lopez sheep, because Kenny likes to make things out of wool felt.

Some of the “totem animals” of the person being gifted are very NON-Northwestern, like my friend Polly’s giraffe:

Sometimes the totem isn’t an animal at all, but some other important symbol:

I think the “gifted” person’s spouse/partner is usually involved in choosing the symbol, but it could also be done by group consensus. I don’t know, but you can bet next time I’m invited, I will happily join in. Here’s a picture of the process:

Unfortunately, I can’t credit the photographer, since it wasn’t attributed at the exhibit. But if it’s Pamela Maretsen, the chief craftsperson/designer, then–kudos, Pamela, and thanks not only for making this tradition happen, but for lighting the fire to spread it.

Of course, as soon as you see these blankets, you start dreaming: what would mine look like? If anyone, like, you know, ever decided to gift me with one?

How about a frog? Frogs are cool…

The whole process is very Zen-like. You can’t ask for one. You can’t buy one–at least not that I’ve ever heard. You probably shouldn’t even THINK about one, or wish for one. You should probably just go about the business of being a good person, and one day your friends just might decide to show their love this way:

I’ve heard of groups of friends making quilts for each other, in the South and the Midwest especially. But I’ve never heard of it being done in secret, and I’ve never heard of men’s being involved.

So I’m wondering: does this happen in other small communities, or groups of friends? Maybe not blankets, but something similar? I would love to see this tradition spread. Maybe, somewhere, it already is? I would love to hear.

Wave of the Present: Do You? Don’t You? Why?

Posted on August 17, 2014 by gretchenwing

When I drive, I have twitchy fingers. Every time I pass another car, person or bike, I wave a couple of digits in their direction.

It’s not just me. All locals do it. Lopez Island is known as The Friendly Isle. Most of us use the one-or-two-finger approach; some go whole-hog and use all five. I even know a couple of folks who’ve installed a floppy glove on their dashboard, vertically, which takes care of all their waving needs.

It’s the Lopez Wave.

You can tell it’s summer by the low percentage of folks who wave back. Takes tourists a while to get the memo. But when they do, they join in enthusiastically–all five fingers.

Off-island, though, it can be a little embarrassing. When you wave at other drivers in Seattle, they tend to think you’re warning them about something. “What? What? Did I leave my latte on my roof again?”

And off-island on rural roads? It always takes me about three days to quit waving at folks. I guess they don’t mind. They even wave back sometimes.

So I’m wondering: is this a rural thing? No one waved on the dirt roads where I grew up in North Carolina. Maybe it’s Midwestern? There are a lot of Midwestern roots in the Pacific Northwest. Do folks wave at each other in Hawaii? Or just give the aloha sign?

I really am curious. Please weigh in with your thoughts. The only other thing I’ll ask of you is…when someone waves, wave back.

To Market, To Market: What’s a Nice Author Like You Doing in a Farmers’ Market Like This?

Posted on July 21, 2014 by gretchenwing

“You’re selling your book at the Farmers’ Market?”

I could try for a real metaphorical stretch here.

“See, my book, it, like, grew from my imagination, and I, uh, watered and tended it through several drafts, and, like, weeded the extra words out, and then, like, harvested it and cleaned it up all nice. So, yeah. It’s really fresh, and, oh! Totally organic. And local. And gluten free. Want to try a sample?”

But I really don’t have to go there. Let me refer you to the Lopez Island Farmers’ Market Vendor Guidelines: “…products must be produced, grown, gathered, created, hand crafted or prepared by the vendor.”

Produced–check. Created–check. Crafted–check, though not EXACTLY by hand. And…prepared? All those drafts, you kidding? Most definitely Check.

Gotta give credit where credit is due: I never would have thought of book-selling at our Market, much as I love it. My friends Ty and Nora, fellow garden fairies, gave me the idea.

What a blast!

The first time I went, over July Fourth Weekend, I sold 15 copies. Granted, seven of those were to people I knew, so that probably won’t happen again. And of course I bought some stuff: eggs. A bunch of lavender. Salmon-and-goat-cheese crepe. (Did I mention our Farmers’ Market ROCKS?)

But still, even with the Market dues, I came out ahead, financially. And socially? Off the charts.

I brought my guitar and sang away, quietly, as people strolled by. Pretty soon I realized the horrible acoustics of the Great Outdoors meant I could sing as loud as I wanted to. Bingo. People heard me, smiled, stopped. The songs provided a bridge between us: no uneasy eye contact (“Oh shoot, if I look at her she’s going to try to sell me something!”). Plenty of time for folks to peruse my display, reading the words from Amazon reviews which I’d enlarged and posted (on fluffy paper “clouds,” since my book’s about a flying girl 🙂 ).

Most of all, plenty of good feeling. They immediately liked this person, sitting there singing-not-“selling,” and felt good about talking to her. After we’d chatted a while, even if they had started out thinking, “What in the world would I want with a Young Adult book?”, they might then think, “Y’know, the neighbors’ kid likes to read…I’ll get this for her.”

Thanks, Ty and Nora! And thank you, Kristen Lamb, for the reminder: buying a book from someone you don’t know is a risk. These days, it’s an author’s job to reach out and take that risk away.

Who knew it would be so much fun?

I’ve met folks from Belgium, Japan, Mexico, and Australia. I’ve talked to random strangers about their flying dreams. (“In YOUR dreams, do you fly arms-out like on my book cover, or do you have wings, or…?”) I’ve sung harmony with other music friends who happen by. I’ve had my own, private Cute Dog Contest, watching the pooches stroll by (puppies win by default).

So I feel just fine about busting into this new gig, selling my “produce.” And hey. Did I mention my book is also gluten free?

Want to weigh in on Farmers’ Markets? Do you think they should just be for farmers? Or do you like having craftspeople there? Ever sold anything at a market yourself? Or…if you could, what would you sell?

Happy “Independence” Day to All You Small Business Owners…Bless Your Hearts!

Posted on July 4, 2014 by gretchenwing

When I left teaching to become a baker, some of my former students were confused. “How’s your bakery?” I would sometimes see on Facebook.

Well, they were half right. I do feel like it’s MY bakery, especially when I unlock the doors at oh-dark-thirty and turn our oven on. But in truth, Holly B’s Bakery (“Holly’s Buns Are Best”) is not MINE…for which I thank my lucky stars. Especially at this time of year.

For a little bakery in a town with a tourist-dependent economy, July Fourth is Black Friday and the post-Christmas sales all wrapped up in one buttery croissant. Or make that 250 croissants.

Our kitchen is TINY. Three bakers have to squeeze past each other. We have only one oven. But the food must be baked! Here, I’ll try to give you some visuals:

Can you imagine the planning all this bounty requires? The ordering, the scheduling, the storage? What if you get it wrong? What if you run out of chocolate chips? What if you bake too many pesto baguettes and not enough of the olive tapenade? What if you make too much? What if you don’t make enough?

How does Holly ever sleep in late June (let alone continue to be the World’s Nicest Boss)???

Holly’s oldest son, Ty, is now co-owner (and the World’s Second Nicest Boss). Maybe it eases the stress to have someone to plan with. I sure hope so!

I LOVE my job. I love “my” bakery. But around Independence Day, I am extra-super grateful that I’m fairly “independent” of the stress of being in charge, and I take my hat off to all those brave souls who carry that load.