Years ago, women wove together utility and artistry. They took bits of worn-out clothing and sewed them into humble, practical blankets to keep their families safe and warm. Today, quilters still ply their trade, and some quilts have become works of art to display on a wall rather than snuggle beneath.
My great grandmother and grandmother both quilted. I can barely thread a sewing machine, although as a child I did learn to sew. The fanciest thing I’ve ever sewn are curtains, which basically means putting hems on a sheet of fabric.
But my ancestors saved fabric scraps and bits of old clothes to make quilts. To me, the process (I’m admittedly not an expert on quilting) serves as an analogy for writing. We can learn from the parallels between these two endeavors.
Photo by Erik Mclean: https://www.pexels.com/
I happen to think the best quilts are those that evolve out of scraps of a life, and exist not just to decorate but to provide comfort and warmth. And the best books, as well.
Your writing is a patchwork quilt, fashioned from your stories, memories, and ideas. It’s embellished with ideas you’ve read or discussed with friends. Countless other writers and thinkers have given you scraps and squares, so that you can stitch them into a unique handicraft that, eventually, your readers can wrap around their shoulders to ward off the chill of loneliness or whatever other challenges they face.
How can thinking of your writing in this way make your it stronger, more beautiful, and more useful?
First: save the scraps
Quilters of old saved fabric scraps in boxes or baskets. They wasted nothing—if it couldn’t become a quilt it went into the “rag bag” where it could be used for polishing the silver or dusting the mantle.
How can you, as a writer, save the scraps? Become an observer of the world and write things down. Keep a notebook with quotes, ideas, questions, descriptions of things you see. Everything that happens or that you see or experience is fodder for your stories. Write down anecdotes from your life that might illustrate an idea you want to explore. Surreptitiously take notes on people you see on the street and want to use as models for characters in your novel. Write down cute things your kids say. Write down infuriating things your boss says.
Photo by Alina Vilchenko: https://www.pexels.com/
Read a lot and take careful notes. When you write down quotes from books or blogs, be sure to note the source. I have coached countless writers who use quotes in their book but then can’t remember where they found those wise words. Websites that offer “famous quotes” with incorrect or incomplete attribution don’t help. A.I. searches that provide faulty information make things worse. When you read, take notes, and be sure to get complete details. You’ll save hours of searching later.
That being said, don’t plagiarize. Use quotes to support your ideas but respond to those ideas with your own perspective. Don’t copy someone else’s work. Create your own masterpiece.
Second: make the old new
Quilts make cast offs and into something beautiful. A new thing crafted from old. Your writing can (and should) do this as well. Which intimidates some writers? What can they say that hasn’t been said or written already? There’s nothing new under the sun, wrote Solomon, and yet this wise observation has endured for millennia.
Your story is unique and powerful, even if it explores topics that have been written about before. Because your life is yours, your observations are yours. Your embellishments are yours alone to craft.
Years ago, I wrote a book called The Garden of the Soul. In it I drew analogies between various aspects of gardening and the spiritual life. I know—it’s not something I’m the first to think of. But I wrote it when my children were small, and it was fashioned scraps of my life as a mom of young children—a story only I could tell about my own experiences of joy and struggle of raising kids and attempting to nurture my own soul at the same time. It explored not just spiritual growth (and how it mimics the growth of plants) but also the growth of a family.
Two quilters can select pieces from the same bin of scraps, and each create something different and beautiful. Your writing allows you to fashion the scraps of your life into a unique work of art, a redemptive work that transforms pain or struggle into encouragement and wisdom.
Third: serve the reader
Quilters seem a generous lot. They often give their works as gifts or share them with those in need. In the same way, your writing is not just for you, but for your reader. Think of the reader as someone who needs your words, someone your writing serves and helps.
Organizations like Quilts That Care bring together artisans and amateurs who craft “chemo quilts” which they give to cancer patients. These gifts provide both physical warmth but also emotional support.
My grandmother crafted quilts for herself but mostly for her grandchildren and family members, and close friends.
A quilt my grandmother made for me years ago. (I know, not technically a patchwork quilt, but still made from fabric scraps. And shared with love.)
Often, we discover meaning and purpose in creating something for someone else. Your writing, especially a book, is not about you. It exists to educate, inform, entertain or inspire someone else—your reader. (I’ve written about this before, and highly recommend A.J. Harper’s book Write a Must-Read for more on how putting the reader first will improve your book.)
As you write, keep the end user in mind. What will serve them? What core message do they need to hear, and how will you offer it up to them in a way that’s accessible and inspiring?
If your book is a quilt, who is it for, and what will it do for them? Is it a decoration to hang on a wall? Or is it more useful? Or maybe it offers comfort and warmth, allowing them to connect with you emotionally, or feel seen by reading your words?
What scraps are you collecting for your writing? Leave a comment below!
That is the template for my blog Unconventional, and for all three of my biker devos: everyday experiences and stories and ponderings that reveal something about us or God. A fine post Keri!
My storytelling outruns my ability to write it. I can deliver the lived experience with clarity and feeling in person, but when I try to capture it on the page, it rarely matches the depth, nuance, and truth. I save the scraps because I know they matter. I just haven’t always figured out how to stitch them into something worthy. But I’m working on it—threading one awkward sentence at a time.