All I Want is to Crochet this Chicken, OK?

chickensWe’ve all had ’em – those days when it seems like brushing your hair is too much effort. When all you want in the world is to sit quietly in the corner with Netflix and a skein of yarn, crocheting a chicken.

This morning I ordered 12 patterns off Etsy (thanks for the gift card, dear) and sat contemplating the delights of a cat scarf versus a chicken trivet. Chicken won. Scarf is next.

Because when you don’t have books (see last post about Between Books Blue Funk) you still have yarn. And sometimes, that’s enough. I’m between books and I’ve hit rough water in my current writing project. Tomorrow, I’ll get back to writing. Today’s it’s just me, two cones of 100% cotton thread, and an I-hook.

Sure, I’m getting the three loads of laundry done between circular rows. We have to do laundry on Sundays and Mondays because the bookstore is closed then and we don’t own a dryer. We always check REAAAAAAALLLY carefully for errant foundational garments on the rungs of the mystery room chairs, before reopening Tuesday. People point at what they don’t understand. You’d think they’d never seen a size XL thong before.

But what I’m really doing is recharging. Sometimes your brain, like good farmland, needs to go fallow for a day. Leftover pizza for lunch, Chef Kelley’s bowls of good soup for supper, and me and the chicken are gettin’ on like a house afire.

Go by, mad world.

If you want to order the chicken pattern, it’s from Ken-Sarah Moss on Facebook. Here’s the link to her ETSY site. Only costs $3.50 and is quite fun to work up. No, I don’t get a commission – don’t even know the lady! But I’m having fun dating her chicken. Sometimes, ya gotta smooth those ruffled feathers, y’know?

Thank you, Mr. S

The sweetest note arrived at our bookstore late last week. I opened the hand-addressed envelope and a ten-dollar bill fell out.

Good start.

The accompanying letter was from Mike S of Rhode Island, who said he’d come across my book in a used bookstore in Connecticut (Book Barn) and picked it up for a fiver. (Which settles one of the questions that Jack, my agent Pamela, and I have been debating: how long would it take for Little Bookstore of Big Stone Gap, a book about a used bookstore, to hit the used books market? 32 days.)

But those of you who have read it know that Chapter 24 (or so) deals with how artists do or don’t get paid for their work, pointing out that resale rarely benefits the creator, etc. etc. Mike said he enjoyed the book so much, he felt he had to send me something as the creator of it, hence the ten-spot. Now isn’t that sweet, kind, genteel?

But Mike also pointed out something that’s been on my mind since my NYC discussion with Nichole (my editor at St. Martin’s Press) last month, when she emphasized that only 5% of all booksales in America are through independent bricks-and-mortar shops. Mike (clearly a man of discerning tastes) likened the rise of little bookshops everywhere to the craft beer industry. A market that used to have just three or four big and basic tastes now has microbreweries everywhere–and those little guys have put the social back into drinking. They’ve returned fun to a business that was sinking under its own weight.

Smallness can revolutionize homogeneous bigness. Etsy is doing so for crafters in other materials besides hops; I have friends selling their gorgeous homemade pottery and knitwear–stuff Walmart will never see and that will outlast anything you buy there–for reasonable prices on that small-creators site. And of course, Jack and I run the classic example of a little bookstore: independent, used, and ours. No corporate manuals, no CEO other than Val-Kyttie (whose every whim is catered to, natch).

So, Mr. Mike, as I said in my return thank you note–a thank you note for a thank you note? Anyway–you have done me three good turns: added an example to the thought path I’m headed down, this juxtaposition of little bigness in the American marketplace; gave Jack, Andrew, and me a laugh when that $10 fell to the floor; and funded kitten kibble for the home team. Staff kitten Owen Meany says, “Thank you, Mr. S.”

So say we all.