I put out a book this year, but my proudest and saddest accomplishment was sewing a new robe.
That might need some explanation.
I've been working on these particular books (there are five, more or less, three are written, one is published, two are in various states of revision and the other two are resting) for the better part of a decade, probably longer. I tried finding an agent, which is an exhausting self-marketing process I'm horrible at, and decided it would be faster to self-publish. But I wanted to do it right, so of course it took about as much time as it would have had I landed an agent when I started the publishing process.
Throughout all of that time, I've been wearing the same tattered robe/caftan thing. Well, three of them, really. My mother's and two she made for me back when I was in high school and college. (I'm 62. These things are OLD).
It's a Vogue pattern, I thought, although it might be Butterick; it's hard to tell because every sewing pattern in the U.S. was sold for a $1 to a wholesaler awhile back and finding a particular sewing pattern without the number is fucking impossible now.
Fabric stores closing, patterns inaccessible. Making your own clothes is gonna get harder and harder.
Anyway. I had bought the fabric to make a replacement robe at least a decade ago, well after Mom died. I had the pattern someplace. But...Mom made these. And wearing them daily was...something about being wrapped up in her love still, and holding on. Somehow replacing her old ones with one I made was about letting her go, replacing her creation, or moving on.
And my subconscious wasn't ready to do that.
So I kept wearing them, despite the frayed edges and the lining that had given up the ghost and the ties that eventually pulled out or became so tattered I cut them off.
I tried a few times. I'd pull the fabric out and it would sit there. I just couldn't get started, no matter how tatty or worn the old ones were. (Honestly, she'd be appalled I was still wearing them in their condition. Mother's clothing standards were a LOT higher than mine.)
So I finally told myself, "I'll sew the new one after the book comes out." And...my brain accepted it. It likes it when I "earn" things.
So I published "A Dubious Hope" on Nov. 14. A week or so later, when I couldn't find the pattern I was certain I had, I made a pattern off the existing robe, washed the fabric (again), cut it out and started sewing. Found a bit of fabric at a store downtown that I could use to make ties with.
I finished it within a week.
I'm wearing it every morning now. It's so plush and warm compared to the old ones it's funny. I'll probably make a lightweight one for summer wear, assuming I can find some appropriate fabric someplace.
And the nice thing is, it still feels like a hug every time I put it on. One from her and from myself.
And that feels pretty good.