Bookbinding is slowly reducing my overconfidence of being a maker with ADHD
It's a common pattern in my life:
- I see a need for something to be done or made – especially something with a high-stakes deadline.
- I think to myself "Oh, I could do that.*" Yes, yes, "confidence of a middle-aged white man" and all that. It's true that it doesn't matter if I've done anything remotely similar before; what I have is a long history of "learning enough to make/do it once" reinforced by an upbringing emphasizing service and helping out – which I would like to think mitigates the hubris to some extent.
- I partake of a bit of the ol' hyperfocus and learn a whole lot about the thing I need to make via books, articles, and videos.
- Sometimes I will then make a plan in my notebook, a list of materials needed, or even (when the planets align perfectly) a set of mini-experiments to increase the odds the result will be as planned.
- Far more often I grab the materials and tools needed (pretty much) and start making the thing.
This results in one of two entirely predictable outcomes:
- I make the thing kinda sorta good enough to meet the need, though not with any level of mastery, or...
- I don't make the thing well enough to make it work, and a good-enough version is hurriedly bought and used when the deadline comes.
Handmade holiday presents (hey, let's learn bookbinding!). T-shirts and bandanas for a convention (I had a class on silkscreening once!), teaching basketball at a summer camp (I played intramural in 6th grade!).
And those are just the fun ones. A life of undiagnosed ADHD meant that I was constantly fielding crises from the traditional "Dad, you said you'd make cupcakes for the class today" to the more intense "Pay the $1500 in back rent by the end of the day or you and your kids will be evicted."
The worst part was how often "crisis Gray" got away with it.
Like many folks with ADHD, though, I was good under pressure – we never got evicted, cupcakes were provided. I always felt a little stupid that I couldn't seem to plan ahead in any meaningful way, be it career, finances, or family – but I felt that my ability to figure out a solution mitigated that flaw to some extent.
I even began to identify with the Odysseus archetype – the man whose epithet was "polyteknos", the man of many ways. This was long before Emily Wilson and Christopher Nolan had illustrated how that is not necessarily a good thing, especially for the people around you.
And there were definitely times that just jumping off the cliff and building an airplane on the way down worked well. I facilitated my first Open Space event with nothing more than a book's worth of knowledge, and entered my career in the nonprofit industrial complex as an Executive Director.*
But I've had time to reflect on my life and see how much stress could have been avoided with a bit of forethought. I'd like to think I know better now... and to some extent, I have. For example, with the help of my also-ADHD partner, we've structured our finances so that the mortgage and bills don't rely on my memory.
But last Mondary I saw a 5k fundraiser for a library, and thought Hey, I could do that! After all, I'd lettered in cross country, ran endless California hills in the Marines, and completed many biathlons back in the early 2000's. I even convinced my middle daughter to run it with me!
After day one of "training", as I was icing my swollen Achilles tendon, sheepishly texting my daughter that I didn't think it was going to be such a good idea after all, I realized that there may be another reason I'm so drawn to the art and craft of bookbinding.
Good Bookcloth Does Not Forgive
Take a look at this video:
My partner wanted some loose papers – a printout supplement to a book – bound together. I had seen a video by Ido Agassi on YouTube on how to do just that. The video only took seventeen minutes – surely I could do that?
On the one hand, this isn't high-stakes. It's a printable PDF, so I could totally mess up the sheets and she'd still be able to recover. And there's no deadline on this. And even though I am using nice paper and book cloth from Hiromi Paper, I have more of both.
But on the other hand...wouldn't it have been more reasonable to try a smaller version first? Some blank little sketchbook thingies or simple journals? Maybe a collection of images. There's any number of ways I could have practiced making this style of book before making the one I want to give Natasha.
Instead, I measured incorrectly, and (unseen in this clip) ended up having to peel up the glued-on bookcloth patch.
Something you may or may not know about bookcloth: it's cloth which is fused to a paper backing, so that you can use it to cover the boards and edges of a cover. The paper is designed to take glue very well without letting it soak into the cloth.
It is not designed to be peeled back up for a "second try." I will end up with a workable, structurally sound book, but it will have imperfections both seen and unseen.
Which is fine – imperfections are part of what makes hand-crafted goods interesting – but these were avoidable and unintended imperfections. Much like my first attempt at re-inserting a signature into a very nice Archer & Olive notebook didn't end up very pretty:
Have I learned better? Will this, the latest in a series of lessons the universe has sought to teach me, finally sink in?
Um...maybe? I think, maybe, it might be more like my nonprofit career: start big, and then work my way smaller and smaller, learning as I go.
Either way, heed my cautionary tale: measure twice. And then measure again, you fool, because bookcloth is expensive!!
*I've been steadily working my way down the ladder, though, as a development director and now campaign manager. Eventually I hope to make it to volunteer!