wordstitcher press

Petoskey, Michigan 37 Sales On Etsy since 2006

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wordstitcher press

Petoskey, Michigan | 37 Sales

Karen Sorenson

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Karen Sorenson

Announcement    Handstitched chapbooks, suitable for all occasions. A dollar from each sale goes to support a worthy cause.


Last updated on Apr 17, 2017

Handstitched chapbooks, suitable for all occasions. A dollar from each sale goes to support a worthy cause.


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About aanachronism

Sales 37
On Etsy since 2006

Some of us take self-publishing more literally than others.

Wordstitcher Press is a combination of my childhood poetry habit, my later-in-life discovery of crafting, and my eternal talent for being extremely literal. Oh, and that post-election need to do something, anything, anything at all. Can't leave that part out.

I grew up writing poetry. It was just something I did, without shame or awkwardness or embarrassment. I was told I was good at it, and I always kind of assumed that was the truth. Then I graduated college, started receiving rejection letters -- oh, and also fell into a major depressive episode. First two might not've stopped me, but the third? Kind of knocked my ambition and self-esteem for a major loop. I never stopped writing entirely, but for whatever reason, poetry fell by the wayside. Even after I went on anti-depressants and started to rediscover what being functional felt like, it just felt awkward. Clumsy. Like trying to sing after someone made fun of your voice for the first time. I couldn't do it.

But what I could do, for the first time, was sew. And embroider. And knit. My mom had tried to teach me to do all those things when I was a kid, but I couldn't do them easily on the first try, so (like many a gifted kid before me) I assumed I was a terrible no-talent and went back to those things that felt easier, like poetry. Somehow, post-meds, I found myself with the patience to actually learn for the first time. To practice and experiment and fail and get better. I couldn't do it with poetry, which had meant so much to me. Yarn, however, was fine.

So it went for a few -- okay, more than a few -- years. I wrote a little prose, I did a little sewing, I knitted a few hats. Safe and domestic and low-pressure, low-risk. Then the election. Then the realization that I needed to do something. My brain shuffled frantically through possibilities before finally landing on something that seemed both completely absurd and completely me (not that those two are necessarily contradictory): I would start my own publishing house. Well, actually, the idea first was to organize and compile an anthology as a charity fundraiser and I'm still working on that. But you've gotta publish the anthology for it to actually do anything, and while there are several companies that would happily take care of that part for me and charge for the privilege --

I mean, in for a penny, in for a pound. And I'm not sure the control freak in me would really be happy doing this any other way.

The other thing that happened, post-election, was the sudden reactivation of the poetry centers of my brain. I suppose because poetry seemed as good a way of screaming into the void as anything else out there. And as long as I was going to be churning out poetry at a frantic pace, well --

And that brings us up to me typing this introduction. Where we go from here -- well, that is the current mystery. It could be very dire. It could be more hopeful. I hope it's the latter. But either way, I'd like there to be poetry. So I'm writing poetry.

And if you'd like to read some, then see what I've got listed, and maybe you'll find something you like.

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