By Mirabel Lavelle
When I started attending writing groups online, around 2020, facilitators would give us a few minutes of free writing, gratitude journalling, or they’d bring in visual writing prompts to help us get into the flow of writing. Helpful as this can be, what helps my words to flow is perhaps an unusual technique because it initially involves writing without words.
When I’m stuck for inspiration, I start by feeling my way around a mood or a story idea, by sitting in my needlework room and playing around with fabrics, yarns, ribbons, sequins and buttons. This helps my inner thoughts to surface. Then, I tend to go for a particular colour palette which expresses the mood of what I want to write about. I’ve built several story scenes via fabric collages and, once completed, I’ve then drafted and written the stories. I could argue: who needs high-tech devices when they have textured fabrics, glittering embellishments and twine to hand?
As writers, we aim to involve all five senses when telling stories. Sometimes the sense of touch is not involved as much as other senses but, with me, touch is what I start with as I pick and handle different textile mediums. I’ve often asked myself why I behave like this. I guess it’s because, when I’m handling remnants, the experience soothes my mind and, as I feel calmer, I find myself ready to write.
I remember clearly from being as young as five, my excitement at going to the Friday market with my Nanna Maria, held at St Helen’s Piazza in Malta. Mum would get me ready at six in the morning. We would hear the 6.30am Mass and then descend upon the multitude of vibrant souk stalls. Two shillings would buy you two yards of factory surplus fabric. In the 1960s, this was enough for a girl’s summer dress and a matching blouse or skirt for Mum. I loved rummaging through the unpredicted array of textiles strewn on brown canvas on the streets around St Helen’s Basilica.
Nanna Maria and her sister Vittoria taught me how to make rag dolls by hand. They always chatted as they worked and often, they would tell me tales from their childhood. Perhaps that’s a reason why my brain associates fabrics with my storytelling.
Zija Vittoria encouraged me to design and sew dolls’ dresses. Little by little, she taught me how to create patterns, how to place them parallel to the selvedge and how to sew. When I think of the sewing process: drafting a sketch, creating the pattern, sewing, unpicking mistakes, adding an embellishment and deciding when to leave it be, I find many similarities to the writing and editing process.
As a girl, I was telling stories via a different creative medium. This was a story about how I dressed, how I made my toys and, more importantly, how what I first created in my imagination became tangible, useful and beautiful to me.
I’m also someone who dreams in colour. I experience the dream vividly and I’m aware of the fabric of my surroundings, sometimes down to minute details. Whether in a dream or when walking through a garden or a bustling market, colour affects my emotional energy. So, when skies are grey and the weather is miserable, I turn to wearing a jumper in my favourite colour: orange.
Orange has been my go-to colour for as long as I can remember. It reminds me of the citrus groves on the mediterranean island where I was brought up. It evokes memories of the scent of orange blossom, the sticky sweet and tangy juice of ripe oranges and mandarins, and the colour contrast between the orange hues of the fruit and the green of the leaves. All this has a positive influence on my mood. When I handle bright, energising, orange textiles, I’m able to shake off lethargy and, as my morale soars, I find a renewed confidence which motivates me to complete my writing.
I often draw inspiration from the use of colour in textiles. In fact, orange features numerous times in the novel I’m drafting. My story is set in Malta, where shades of orange are everywhere: from the colour of the sun to citrus fruit, wild marigolds and pumpkins, as well as the Festa Fireworks.
I weave colour as metaphor in my writing.
The practice of weaving colour and textile metaphor in writing is not unique. For example, in The Great Gatsby and in Great Expectations, we find the colour white symbolising illusion and moral corruption in the former and stagnation and decay in the latter. The imagery of white frocks is very powerful. Daisy Buchanan’s white frock is ironically deceptive and masks her selfishness, whilst Miss Havisham’s white dress is a metaphor for her inability to move past betrayal.
Mending And Editing
I find there is a beautiful quality in the ability to repair a garment, thus adding another dimension to its history and value. In the same way, a fragmented thought or unclear idea can be unravelled and disentangled into a flowing piece of elegant prose. The mending process, which is not dissimilar to the editing process, helps me to reflect why I’m writing something, and its wider purpose in my writing journey.
I’m impressed by the work of the French American artist, Louise Bourgeois, especially when she says: “I do, I undo, I redo.” In creating her ‘textile memoire’ from cloth taken from used garments, she presents us with an act of repair, fabricating something new and full of rich memories.
Connecting With A Local Author
It was while I was creating a fabric collage inspired by a scene in a book I enjoyed reading, that I met the author Glenda Young. I was so moved by the scene at the Haberdasher’s, in Pearl Of Pit Lane, I turned it into a hand-sewn textile collage. Every piece of fabric I used came from garments used by different women in my family. I showed the finished item to Glenda, who was delighted by my effort. It was a special moment and I continue to enjoy reading her many beautiful books.
Discover Glenda’s books here: Novels | Glenda Young, Author
The Red Dress
I am in awe of the red dress and the story around it because it envelops so many diverse female narratives. It embodies one of the greatest international stories ever told, especially because of the message to the world: we can work together without boundaries and build a beautiful item that gives joy, hope and unity to the world. This dress inspires me to write. 343 Embroiderers In 46 Countries Joined Hands To Make This “Red Dress Project” Successful In 13 Years | DeMilked
I’d like to quote one example of inspiration by Nina Gronw-Lewis about the Snowdrops section of the dress, depicting A flower seeped in memory and folklore.
Nina writes: My grandmother taught me to knit, stitch and crochet, she was a wise and gifted woman, she nurtured my creative flair, her favourite flower was the snowdrop. Born and brought up in Somerset I learned of many folk tales, and visited the landmark Tor in Glastonbury many times, on the tower you will see a carving of Brigid, the goddess of nurture, here she is depicted milking a cow, it is said where the drops of milk fell the snowdrops grew. Dove Studios Event – The Red Dress
Nina’s story is similar to my own. My maternal grandmother was the only person with the patience and ability to teach a left-handed, restless girl how to knit beautifully. When I dropped a few stitches from an intricate blanket she was working on, she smiled sweetly and showed me how to rescue it all. She was not upset but taught me that, with hope, patience and application, we can fix things. These days, I try to carry this message into my writing, especially when self-doubt kicks in and freezes my creativity.
I recently published a picture book, Zeb, Jet And The Ice-Cream Calamity, which highlights food allergy safety for children. While the book was with the publishers, I drew patterns of the protagonist, Jet the puppy, and the hero, Zeb the fox cub. Then I made hand puppets. I can use these with children who respond better to stories by connecting to a tactile hand puppet.
Conclusion
The tactile nature of a fabric ignites the desire to create a narrative in my head. Fabrics, buttons and all things haberdashery help me to imagine and shape richly layered narratives. I do believe my sewing and my writing journeys are two sides of the same thinking process, the same voice. Next time you find yourself facing writer’s block, try touching a textured fabric or exploring a new colour palette, as your writing prompt. You never know, you might just discover your next great story idea.
Connect with Mirabel: Website Home – writebymirabel.co.uk
Instagram: www.instagram.com/mir.j.car
LinkedIn: www.linkedin.com/in/mirabel-j-lavelle-4b73a2114
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