Blog post

What is Tracing Threads?

October 26, 2017

You know what’s hard?

About pages.

Bios. Taglines. Blurbs. Elevator pitches. Don’t even get me started on the LinkedIn summary…

It’s hard to distill our work—what we do and what we believe in—down to a handful of words. It’s difficult to sum up something so close to yourself (especially if it is, you know, yourself). If your work feels like a tangible manifestation of who you are and everything you’ve gone through, how do you put that into something short and sweet that a stranger can look at and say, “Oh, I see what you’re all about.”

That’s what I’ve been thinking on (OK, struggling with) lately. What is Tracing Threads? What’s it for? What can people expect?

The hell is going on here, Kate?

Well, I can tell you it’s about a whole lot more than craft. I realized it’s never really been about craft and that craft is just a medium. What I’m interested in are stories. Discovering them, telling them, and living them. That’s where my happy is.

I want to talk about life as a “creative” (whatever that means) and all the things that circle around it. The things that stop us from doing our work and the things that help us do our work. Things like purpose, fear, mental health, self-development, money, marketing, relationships… All things I used to think were separate but now I see the common threads between them. (Threads! See what I’ve done there??)

Anyways. Back to the question. Despite my aforementioned aversion, please enjoy this most delightful brainstorm:

What is Tracing Threads?

From angst to action, one woman’s tale.

An exercise in solidarity.

Where creativity and self-deprecating humour hang out.

“I’m not good enough.” And other seductive lies we tell ourselves.

A largely incoherent collection of thoughts riddled with grammatical errors.

Evidence you’re not alone. I’m told this is called sonder.

The space between your world and the real one.

How To Human, an ongoing experiment.

Navigating life as a creative (whatever the hell that means).

Resistance and me, the continuing story.

Nostalgia for a life you never lived.

A place to talk about feelings but not in like a weird, overly squishy, off-putting way.

You. But better.

A compilation of things I’m going to regret sharing in the morning.

The corner of the internet I hope _____ never finds.

Turning “I can’t” into “I can.” The daily battle.

Proof you can make the things and share the things and the world won’t implode.

The embodiment of, “Once more with feeling.”

A few family photos. Because, nostalgia. 

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