There is something to be said for changing your mindset...
Last night was great.
It was date night, some time my girlfriend and I set aside to spend quality time with each other, and the Wisconsin Fall weather was cooperating enough that we could enjoy sitting out in her backyard garden with a fire crackling merrily. The weather was warm enough to not need a coat, but had just enough chill to keep mosquitoes away.
We talked about the day, our work challenges, shared funny moments...and then she said "Oh, you had asked me if there was anything in particular I wanted as a holiday* gift...I would love for you to make me a sketchbook."
And my heart went pitter-pat. Not in the fun way; in a bit of heart-sinking terror.
See, I appreciate that she encourages me in my interests. I love that she has the confidence in me to ask for a sketchbook made just for her.
But I've only really made one sketchbook, and it wasn't great.
It wasn't bad, mind you – it's perfectly usable, and I'm proud that I made it...but it's not a Holiday-Gift-for-My-Girlfriend level of quality. It's really only a "I can sell this as a general sketchbook" or "I can use this if I forget a friend's birthday and need a gift fast" level of quality.
And my fear was instantaneous, that special kind of imposter syndrome:
What if I make something badly? Do I really have the skill to make something for that kind of occasion?
I'm going through this with another book I'm trying to make, my first attempt at a Japanese stab bound book for my partner. But that's not even really a gift; that's her enabling my hobby by asking me to do something I already wanted to learn.
It's low-stakes; she just needs some papers to hold together, and if the whole thing falls apart she can reprint the PDF and get a folder or something from Office Max.
A sketchbook, on the other hand, is something that holds art. It holds the time that my girlfriend takes out of her very busy schedule to reflect on and recreate the beauty around her (and she's a horticulturist, there's a lot of beauty). It needs to be sturdy, it needs to be easy to hold, it needs to be reliable enough to last for months or years or decades.
All of these thoughts went through my head in an instant. And then I thought of something else:
What would a papermancer do?
Instead of "Gray, the beginning bookbinder" I shifted my perspective to "I am a person who learns through paper, binding, and craft."
I realized that her request had the answer within, and the answer was more questions:
- What size would she like?
- Will you hold it in her hand, or lay it on a surface to sketch?
- What will she sketch with? Watercolor? Ink? Pencil? Pastels?
- How long would she like it to last?
- What kind of themes or colors or textures would feel good on the cover?
- What kind of binding would she like?
In short...what were the qualities of a sketchbook that would not only be useful, but be pleasurable for her? So that she wanted to take it out and use it, and when she did it gave her a bit of relief from the stresses of the day and the world?
Papermancy is a process.
As she answered the questions, I thought about what style of book would be best for her, what kind of paper, what to put on the cover...but then I did something different.
I did something that I've hardly ever done in my life, something that delineates the difference between me as a hobbyist and me as a papermancer.
I put all those ideas I had away. I did not decide on one, and then go to YouTube or Skillshare or Domestic to watch a video class on how to make one. I did not rush to the web or Artists & Craftsman Supply to buy materials for my Wonderful First Idea.
Instead, I thought about how another papermancer, AJ Watters, has been talking about building her own personal curriculum. And I realized I was going to do that too – a mini-curriculum called "Learning How to Make Your Girlfriend a Sketchbook You Will Feel Good About."
Sorry, I don't think I'll be offering that one on the Payhip store. But I will be sharing it, as I try out techniques, papers, and other tiny experiments both to improve my own ability (I think that's what the kids these days call "practice") and to hand to her to see what she likes.
- A tiny stapled book of paper types for her to draw on, to see what feels good.
- Improving my binding skills to make a truly durable spine
- Working on decorative techniques (even if most or even all are not used).
Yes, there will be a sketchbook in the end.
And I know she will like it, just because when your boyfriend makes you something you smile graciously and say "Thank you!"
It may end up in a drawer after that – but that won't matter. What matters is the learning of the trying and the trying of the making. Yeah, I know, it's trite, but it's one of those "The real treasure is the skills we learned along the way" fairy tales.
Changing my mindset was a far more effective tool for getting rid of the imposter syndrome than any affirmations or "is that really true?" inner dialogue.
It changed the answer when my inner doubt said Do you really think you have the skill to make a sketchbook as a holiday gift?
Gray the hobbyist would have slumped his shoulders. No, not really.
But Gray the papermancer squares his shoulders and cracks his knuckles.
Not yet.
*Incidentally, her birthday is December 25th. So it's got to be doubly good #nopressure.