I was looking at FrankenLoom this evening, rather than weaving on it. FrankenLoom started as a simple frame loom of the sort that Navajo ladies use to weave those beautiful rugs; but because of a horrible accident during a radiation experiment (or something), FrankenLoom ended up with some bizarre extra attachments. At some point I will finish the triptych taking shape there.
It occurred to me that all the extra bits on FrankenLoom do one thing: They constrain what is possible; and yet they sprouted there to make the current workpiece possible.
A loom with nothing on it is like a blank sheet of paper or a blank screen: Anything is possible. But if you are a handweaver, you know that you cannot weave an "anything". You have to prepare the loom by putting the warp threads in place; and in doing that, you constrain the dimensions, weight, color, and texture of the cloth before you even start making it.
So too with writing. That blank screen could lead you anywhere; it opens up an expanding sphere of infinite possibilities, and so nothing happens at all. We begin to write only after we have set the constraints. What are the limits on the dimensions, weight, color, and texture of this thing I am about to write? In weaving as in writing, the preparatory work to set those constraints is often tedious and formulaic; but in both cases, a few experiences with slapdash preparation teaches us the patience to do it right. When we give thought and care to getting "the boring part" right before we start, "the fun part" is more fun - it goes faster for being more nearly trouble-free, and the finished work is of visibly superior quality.
There's surely a message about deferred gratification in there somewhere; but I've learned to find gratification - and to feel gratitude - in setting the constraints that move me from "anything is possible...what now?" to "this particular project is possible, and it's going to turn out very well." The project schedule, product feature plan, information plan, outline, template, and style guide all set constraints. They are the weapons with which I vanquish the frightful monster that is the blank screen. They are the threads with which I warp the loom on which I weave my words.
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