It’s less than ideal writing a sewing column, when I cannot sew. For the life of me. Cannot. Bring myself. To do it.

I’ve got the mechanics down pat. (And if it’s the actual skills to sew you’re having trouble with, I suggest a few of my earlier columns.) The cutting, the stitching, the pressing. In theory, I’ve got all that.

But I can’t sew and here come my excuses – mashed into one big sentence, so you can choose your own adventure. My sewing space is on the third floor which is a lot of stairs and work is quite busy and kids and that show on TV is really quite good and hey a friend to talk to and why haven’t I done the dishes and I really should prune that lemon tree and ooh look it’s sunny and also just blergh. A big fat blergh.

You see what I’m saying here? I lost my sew-jo. Uh-oh.

THE SYMPTOMS
From my research (Instagram), loss of sew-jo seems to be reasonably common. The symptoms seem to be a general lack of motivation to do the physical act of sewing, sometimes coupled with a complete disinterest in made garments altogether.

And plunge in with me, the real problem is this: when we sew, our hands and brain chug along following the process. But somewhere deeper inside that noggin, the real stuff sorts itself out. The thoughts, feelings, worries and hopes have a good chat to each other and sort out their priorities while the hands are kept busy.

So, losing my sew-jo is bad news. Also bad news: summer is approaching. And I have the most beautiful green wool (left over from the Italian designer Pucci, ooh la la) waiting to be made into a coat. No one needs a wool coat in summer, not even in Melbourne, so I have to get cracking.

MY ATTEMPT AT A CURE…

EBBS AND FLOWS Step one has been accepting the ebbs and flows of creative energy. It’s OK that some weeks I stay up late churning out three tops, a skirt, a bikini and a pair of bathers. Really. All in one week. I was on a rollllll! It’s equally OK that some weeks my creative juices just want to percolate; scrolling through hashtags and devouring the book Fabric: The Hidden History of the Material World (it’s a great read!).

THE PLEASURE OF PLANNING Step two has been to embrace the pleasure of planning! I have a sewing book and roughly four times a year, I map out what I want to make. Sometimes it’s really practical: I need a new jumper. Other times I’ve noticed a beautiful shade or style on someone and I jot it down.

I map out colours, fabrics and patterns and also decide on my priorities. In what order I want these new clothes! I snip up magazines (sorry frankie!) and paste details I like into my book.ASK WHY Step three is to ask myself why I’m wanting to make these clothes. I’ve realised I have really strong ideas about the styles I like, how garments fit, and the quality of the workmanship and fabric. Rather than digging around for the exact thing, I often just think, “I’ll make it!” But if the idea of making it doesn’t excite me, then here’s the revelation: I don’t have to! Shops sell clothes!

A DEADLINE There’s nothing quite like a deadline, just as a general rule in life. Mine was a beach holiday in Queensland, which I’ll admit doesn’t scream GREEN WOOL COAT straight away. But the idea of hitting warm weather before I’d had a chance to wear that soft snuggly wool was just too much.

So, I started small; I interfaced the wool. I waited a week. I cut the pattern pieces in the wool and the lining. I waited two weeks. I sewed the lining and then it started to flow. An hour or two later the rough shape of a coat in a soft shell-pink lining was taking form. It was that familiar feeling of an almost complete garment. I slept, I worked and then I was at it again. The wool now coming together. Piece by piece, setting in the arms, bagging it out and there I was. It was midnight, but my coat was finished.

STEP BY STEP I realised I’d been so focused on the finished garment, which felt like an insurmountable project, that I forgot sewing is just a series of steps.

You cut. You stitch. You press. You repeat. One foot, then the next. And before you know it, your coat is complete; your sew-jo restored.

And it turns out, it’s been a perfect spring for my warm winter coat. Thanks Melbourne!Keep up with Ashlynne at @sewinthewild.