A lot has been written about the dangers of Social Media. Wielded carelessly, it leads to all sorts of mental problems, and dissatisfaction largely related to the glossy perfectionism often depicted in others’ photos of their lives, travels, creativity. Whatever it is that you’re looking at Social Media for (ignoring, for the moment, connections from Real Life).

Comparison is the thief of joy, after all, so sayeth Teddy Roosevelt (apparently: according to Google, anyway. I’m writing this at too early a time to do any further research than the first results of my search).

I usually look at the photographic parts of Social Media for crafting inspiration. For ideas of designs I can butcher with the supplies I have to hand, or for patterns I want to stitch or crochet.

The trouble, I find, though, is that a lot of the crafty people I follow on Social Media are the ones who already Know What They’re Doing when it comes to the craft in question and everything looks effortless and now, look, that’s how they make their living and get to spend all day doing it. Similarly, for me, the beautiful photos (I know: filters!) also intimidate me. I’m still learning (or pretending I’m learning) to take better photos, but, at heart, like my stick-with-a-string archery, I’m a point-and-shoot sort of photographer, despite the many guides I’ve read (for photography. Nothing will convince me that a recurve or compound with fancy sights and balances beats a longbow a foot longer than I am tall).

We all know that’s not true, but it looks it, and it can be difficult to remember and remind oneself that it’s not true. It’s the result of a lot of practice. Of mistakes they haven’t or won’t show us. Or because they come to Social Media with their creativity after they’ve already completed a good chunk of their 10,000 hours of practice, so they do, by and large, Know What They’re Doing. I feel that way about cross-stitching, give or take the odd French knot, which I have yet to master and now mostly skip in favour of an adhesive gem. One day, I’m sure, I will learn how to do a French knot, consciously and consistently.

When it comes to papercrafting, I feel a bit stymied creatively at the moment, despite all the inspiration drawn from Social Media. Simple things, easy enough. They are simple, though. Nothing complicated or clever or intricate or particularly beautiful, except by accident.

I’m in the process of weeding through my supplies (and trying really hard to resist the call of New Supplies to replace what I purge; it doesn’t always work) partly in preparation for packing it all up for a move, and partly in preparation for a redesign of my crafting space. I’m also looking ahead to the return to literary studies in September and trying not to overload myself so I freeze from an overwhelming To Do list and do none of it.

But I’m also taking the opportunity to go right back to the beginning, back to basics, to try and build up that practice from where I should probably have started with card-making and papercrafting rather than diving straight into what I thought I should be doing with it. Back to the papers and stamps and (probably) ready-made die-cuts. I can work back up to the die-cutting and heat-embossing and other fancier, more time-consuming techniques. Like the printing press still patiently waiting its turn.

We all have to start from somewhere. Yes, I’ve already done some of my 10,000 papercrafting hours, but not so many that I consider myself any kind of papercrafting wizard. Like not waiting for the Writer Muse to turn up before attempting to write, I need to stop waiting for the Creative Muse too.

Time, and practice. And eventually I’ll be making the complicated, fancy fold, needs-a-small-parcel-stamp cards too. I’ll, probably, be documenting the wins and the fails more frequently on other, more frequent, attention-sapping Social Media. If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em. Or something.