I’ve written a book

I have written a book about the birth and evolution of The Sewing Machine Project.

It’s been in process for years. Seriously. Years. And over those years, I’ve written, I’ve crossed out, I’ve thrown away, I’ve edited and reedited and it never seemed like it was quite done. Perhaps this was because the work of the organization is ongoing…how do you decide what the end is when something is ongoing? But then, in the fall of 2022, I woke up one day and thought, “It’s ready” “I’m ready”. After years of gestation, this baby is ready to be birthed.

It surprised me how much energy filled me, pushing the manuscript towards the light, towards the world. I reached out to a local publisher to talk possibilities and was humbled by their kindness and excitement about the project. Day after day, I kept expecting the energy to wane, the need to do yet another edit to return, but no.
We–the book and I–were ready.

In December, a neighbor offered to share my manuscript with a much larger publisher and honestly, though flattered, my initial instinct was to say “No, I’m ok with the path I’m on”. But my ego, (ah, dear ego) elbowed its way to the front.
“Sure!” I said. “Let’s give it a try!”

And so, I’ve been waiting since early December, for this larger publisher to step in and tell me they like my work. And it’s been very quiet. Finally, yesterday, I reached out to my neighbor for an update. “Margaret”, he said, “I think your original publishing idea is the way to go for now.”

Not totally a surprise, I expected to be crushed.

But last night, absorbing the news, I wrote an excited email to the original local publisher. “I’m in!” I said, “Let me know what happens next!” What I didn’t realize–what I think we often don’t see–is that our subtle shifts open whole new pathways and it isn’t until the curtains are pushed aside that we see the light pour in. It was as if the waiting over the past few months was simply an exercise to create even more energy to birth the book.

I went to bed imagining cover designs, thinking about which photos to include in the book. In the night, my Grandmother showed up in my dream. She has never visited me like this before. Grandma John was a smart, no nonsense woman. She sewed out of practicality and she was good at it. I’m not sure if she loved it. But as a child I’d watch her tat lace to apply to the little dresses she would make for me. I’d watch as her body relaxed as her hands were busy and I believe I absorbed that knowing. Grandma loved to read and was a good writer. She died before I was really old enough to talk about the similarities between us. But in my dream, Grandma showed up in black and white in a room full of people in color. She spoke directly to me. I know she was telling me I’d made a wise choice and I know she is proud of me.

The work of the Sewing Machine Project is about getting sewing machines to people who need them. It’s about developing spaces where community can blossom as hands create and conversation flows. On a personal level, The Sewing Machine Project has taught me to listen and to trust my instincts. I’ve listened to the voices of those we serve, I’ve listened to my wise advisors, I’ve listened to the dreams that appear so vividly.

I am choosing a small, local publishing house to help me put my book into the world and as I listen to the messages around me, I know I’ve chosen well.

I’ll keep you posted on the book!