Outgoing : : January (!) 2018

#outgoing #January2018

Very late, but a stack of envelopes with the first letter finally went out (causing a happy commotion at the post office) this Monday morning.

In it are #Goethe #genius #power #magic #boldness #connection #revelation #meditation #empathy #sharedhumanity

The artwork is a bit conservative. I found it hard to begin without knowing how the printing process would treat it. Naturally, I wondered (that is, I stressed) about each reader’s tastes, the reasons they might have subscribed to my monthly letters, and how to make a letter that would, somehow, please them all.

January letter

Now that I’ve found a good printer in Sydney, I can let myself go on the visuals. Once I start getting feedback about the first letter, I think I will have a better idea about handling the rest. Jill and Kath—letter-buyers and friends I’ve made on this blog, though we have never met in person— both wrote to reassure and remind me to just breathe and be myself. Thank you, ladies…I needed that!

Subscribe to a few months—or a whole year—of beautiful monthly letters, and brighten up your usual letterbox fare: The Scarlet Letterbox.


ha’bir’day to us, mr. william s. burroughs

mermaid goblet

Old Bill and I celebrated our birthdays last Monday. I’m guessing he spent the day passed out, after a naked lunch, on junk and scotch in the Afterlife; while I was spoiled by the women in my tribe, all day (and we went to dinner that night…er, dressed).

There were so many presents by the end of the work day that, on Tuesday, I had to ask one friend to help me get them all down to the Dinah Beach Yacht club’s pontoon and my dinghy, in her pickup truck. I rowed my loot home at dusk, slipping through a crack in the wall between rain showers and thunderstorms, where the oil of the sun came leaking out.

Sadgroves Creek

Among the pressies was a pre-loved iPhone, so my Instagram account—created, and used briefly, in October 2016, when my brother let me take his spare phone along for a weekend in NYC…oh, Tallulah, I feel a digression coming along…

*I ended up staying a week…spent my second day working as a labourer, helped shift 2 dozen large paintings from a warehouse to a gallery in Brooklyn; stayed at a crash pad in Queens—se habla Español—with 8 other people, and having the best time hanging out with, mostly, Colombians…but this deserves its own story)*

—is active again. Though I am still very much a cautious, shy, laconic Instagram poster. And hashtags baffle me. Some people put so many hashtags on each post that soon Instagram will have to invent meta-hashtags to help you navigate the hashtags…

There should be an app where they’ve simply hashtagged the entire dictionary, and you can just copy-paste all 171,476 words to accompany each photo or video you post…just to, you know, get it over with…find everyone by looking up everything, every time.

January letter mail drop

I’m slowly learning to edit and post photos with the phone…frustrating for someone who’s used a DSLR most of her life; but have been unexpectedly enjoying playing around with some of the filters and with Picmonkey’s phone app, which is like the lobotomised version of Picmonkey for laptops.

Friends have already warned me that it’s addictive, but I think I have a few weapons against that, up my sleeve. For one thing, I am a fast typist on my Macbook, and I really hate the clumsy pawing at teeny-tiny letters on a greasy, fingerprinted glass screen with my fat fingers. I tried to Google the Philippine city of Davao, and Auto-Correct wanted to know, “Did you mean ‘Satan’?”

Also, my eyesight seems to get worse every year; if I have to run around looking for my glasses every time the phone dings, just to be told that so-and-so liked this-or-that, and commented such-and-such, to whom…forget it, I simply do not have the patience.

“If someone has died, the people around can ring me,” I mutter….and if no one has died, then it can wait till the hour that I check social media in the evening.

Social media aside, though, I am charmed by the iPhone’s uses as a tool. The camera is good and convenient. It has been nice to carry my e-mail, bank, and Etsy accounts in my pocket. And I am a data hound who loves bar graphs, charts, and statistics, so I have been tripping on all the apps for monitoring, counting, and averaging everything…from my sleep patterns, to the number of words typed for the Morning Pages that I usually write at midnight, on most nights of the week.

N.B. The sleep app is dodgy and I have removed it…I woke up feeling fantastic nearly every morning last week, but the little bar graphs tell me that I have been “awake” for several hours every night, that my sleep quality has been “poor,” and that I am in “debt” to the tune of 8 hours of sleep..! Which is, of course, hogwash: imagine! owing myself sleep from the start of the week, and this app wants me to “repay” it! So I deleted it.


Though I must confess that, two nights ago, I was awakened by the sound of my own voice speaking a strange cat’s language of mewing chirrups and musical ‘prrring-krring’.

So maybe the phone isn’t entirely to blame for believing that I have been up half the night, talking to Bast.

A bonfire on my desk

drunk on color

It’s been raining since Thursday… the solar panels are starving and I haven’t been able to use my laptop, for fear of draining my batteries beyond recovery. Sometimes I think I have watched enough water fall from the sky to wash the world away.

No matter. I have been writing letters. Yes, those letters, the ones I’ll be mailing copies of, to the dozen brave first customers who came to my ETSY shop over the past two weeks.

But there have been other letters, besides. Friends, and strangers, will also be getting something in the post from me this February. It’s International Correspondence Writing Month (InCoWriMo) and, for 28 days, hundreds of people have pledged to write a letter (postcard, gift card…) a day. You can write to people you know, or you can pick some lucky ducky from the list of addresses submitted to the InCoWriMo page.

It isn’t cold, in Darwin…not even after 4 days of rain. But the soul craves warmth, possibly because the sun has been blotted out by cloud cover, and everything is shadowy and grey. So I built a bonfire on my desk.

I piled together some hand-marbled Himalayan paper, old Pantone swatches, polished bits of brass, postage stamps, gold inks, and one of my printed postcards. Set it alight with a sliver of sunlight that broke through the clouds, and stood back to enjoy the blaze.

P.S. I have finally settled on a name (yes, settled againanother name) and this time it’s for good…bought the domain (no website up yet) and everything: The Scarlet Letterbox.

Just to confuse you, I’ve changed the name of my ETSY shop, too; but it’s the same old shop.

We’re live! (updated)


I’m late opening my ETSY shop…forgot what it was like to tweak listings on ETSY, all the little things you have to think of: the terms and conditions for items, the postage for different countries, and all those photos you’re allowed to post, now!

“Luscious Letters” is killing me. It sounds like a steamy soft-porn novel. Ye Gods!

UPDATE: I settled for the name “The Scarlet Letterbox”

But it’s nearly midnight, every name I come up with is worse than the previous one, and I am still at the office. The tide is a long way out by now and I am stranded ashore, so I guess I’ll be sleeping in this dress, and “Hello again, old couch in the storeroom.”

This is by no means the final “face” of my shop OR the Letters project, but I couldn’t keep putting things off until they were perfect. They’ll never be perfect! Sometimes you just have to dive in, give yourself permission to start dinky, Photoshop-illiterate, using whatever you’ve got, and Relax…knowing that you can fix things tomorrow, and improve the overall project as you go.

Mail for Sale

Most importantly, you may now sign up for 4-, 8-, and 12-month letter subscriptions.

Your feedback and suggestions are very welcome. If something sucks, please tell me while it’s still baby step days! LOL


The Missing Ink*


A change, they say, is as good as a holiday. When I moved into my friend Yvonne’s unit just after Christmas, my one big goal was to figure out by the New Year what the heck I was going to do for a living, now that my hours at work have been chopped to less than half what they were. I had been thinking about it a bit, at home on the houseboat, but found that my mind kept wandering the same old grooves, the same tired ideas: Bind journals and albums, sell them on ETSY, have exhibitions or rent pop-up space, and join two weekly tourist craft markets in Darwin…just thinking about it depressed me!—I’d chewed on these commonplace, uninspired solutions for so long that they were a grey, flavourless wad of gum in my brain. Also, I had tried them all before, and they hadn’t worked then, so why did I believe that they would work now?

Kris’s arrival in Hawaii, and the ensuing media hype, pushed my own plans aside for a few days. Kris and I exchanged e-mail letters twice daily, making up for time we’d been apart and the best of his time on land. As this went on I found myself wishing, as I do every time he’s off somewhere and I’m at home, that I could send him a beautiful letter. But it was impossible, with him on a boat. He, on the other hand, has taken advantage of my fixed address to send me dozens of postcards and hand-painted letters since I left him behind in Guatemala in August 2016.

Finally, this impracticable urge to make a beautiful piece of mail art for Kris, along with posts from my own blog, and some readers’ comments, gave me the idea.

Something so unlike all my other ideas that, instead of looking through it with indifference as it flitted past me like a soap bubble, my mind pounced and pinned it down. I was so agitated by this new thing that I got out of bed and paced the hallway for hours. For once, my inner critic was so astounded that it couldn’t find anything to say, and let me walk that idea from the land of vague notions and through the door into my world.

It’s so simple, I wondered that I didn’t think of it sooner.

vintage nibs

I love all things paper. I love writing and drawing. I have spent 20 years hoarding beautiful papers (not just for bookbinding), inks, calligraphy and fountain pens, matchboxes full of steel Gillot and Mitchell nibs, drawing pens, envelopes, paints. I love travel, travel sketching and travel writing. I collect paper money, maps, and stamps from other countries. I love sending letters and making mail art…I have dozens of sealing wax tapers, brass monogram seals that I’ve never used, and several albums filled with old postage stamps (I buy stamp collections from flea markets). One of my grand life plans (that never came to pass) was to send beautiful mail art to each of my friends, all over the world, on a regular basis.

Before the New Year, I posted images of some old work on this blog, and a lot of it was mail art. These images of mail art got the most reactions from readers.

“Everybody,” I mused, “loves the idea of a beautiful letter arriving in the mail.” *plink!* The proverbial lightbulb blinked on, in my head.

And yet, letter-writing has been called a “fading art,” and old-fashioned letter-writers, a “fading generation,” because although everybody would love to receive such a letter, nobody wants to have to write one.

Will this fading generation, I find myself quietly asking, also be the last to write letters? Messages crafted by hand rather than bits of binary code? Writing that carries emotions rather than emoticons?
—Catherine Field, The Fading Art of Letter Writing

“So, with letter-writing on its last legs and the New York Times publishing elegies to it, your great idea is to take it up, professionally? Really?” The way I see it, that’s an even better reason to take up my dip-pen, stir those sleeping Herbin inks, and start scribbling…to keep it alive.
back to colour

Here’s my pitch:

I propose to write, and paint, beautiful letters (that’s why I’ve been brushing up on calligraphy) with stories and images from my own life, and then reproduce and post them, once a month (like a magazine subscription), to anyone who wants to find more than bills and shopping catalogs in their mailbox…

I’ll make sure the letter is personalized (although I couldn’t possibly hand-paint and write one letter for every person!) and use the prettiest stamps I can find, with artwork on the page (a watercolor, a drawing, a collage, a bit of embroidery on paper, you know what I do…), calligraphy and art on the envelopes, wax sealed, rubber-stamped…a dream in an envelope. For you, or maybe for someone you know who’d love to receive regular letters as a gift.

A good handwritten letter is a creative act, and not just because it is a visual and tactile pleasure. It is a deliberate act of exposure, a form of vulnerability, because handwriting opens a window on the soul in a way that cyber communication can never do. You savor their arrival and later take care to place them in a box for safe keeping.
—Catherine Field, The Fading Art of Letter Writing

This idea goes live in my ETSY shop on Wednesday, 17th January…

What do you think?

*The Missing Ink is the title of a book I have by Philip Hensher, about the lost art of handwriting as a form of self-expression. I loved the title so much, I just had to use it for this post!

Scratching and scribbling

calligraphy practice

The afternoon raced away as I practiced the looping and curving letters of an online calligraphy course. I went through two Gillot 303 nibs doing these…they’re incredibly sharp, flexible and  painfully fragile; if the split point catches on the cotton paper, it bends out of shape and you have to throw it away.

I was too impatient to finish all the exercises, I just had to try things out on something real—like a black envelope with white ink. It came out irregular and far from perfect, naturally.

Back to doing the exercises!