I have noticed a trend, or cycle, or predictable set of events, that happens in every one of my projects. First there is the great elation of a new idea, an ambitious goal, the thought of a result that seems, in some cases, profound, in other cases, at least kind of cool. Then there is the work of making it happen. Again, I start with enthusiasm, enjoying the process, dreaming of the wonderful results. At some point however, the enthusiasm begins to turn into doubt: why did I do this? why do I always do this? whose brilliant idea was this anyway? Usually this stage rears its ugly head when the process takes an unexpected turn and the piece is no longer exactly what I had imagined, so things start to feel slightly unpredictable.
So here I am. My piece (the tip of the pencil that will cover the roof) has about 400 stitches currently. It needs to be about 740 by the end. The math of figuring out the increases is slightly beyond my abilities but I think I have it worked out. What is plunging me into the deep unease is the shape of the point. I don't like it. At all. But obviously I am not ripping out to fix it. I have thought about making another point and simply sewing it over the current one. Maybe. Can I cut it off and attach a new one? Close-up appearance is not that important as most people will be seeing this from 15 stories below.
Your advice is welcome!
And then there is the colour...and maybe it is too homemade looking for these slick ad agency people...and what if the whole thing fails and no one even knows it is supposed to be a pencil? I could go on, but you get the picture...