Well, last night I finished one of those.
I’ve had this vintage book cover forever, cut the pages at least a year ago, and then put it on a shelf and forgot about it. Or mostly forgot about it. The truth is, I realize now, I was scared. It was less painful to do nothing—and have nothing—than to risk screwing it up.
I don’t know what changed, but yesterday I pulled the pieces off the shelf and finally put them together. There wasn’t much to it: the whole project took just a couple of hours.
That’s all it took, unless you count the hours I spent taking bookmaking classes and collecting the necessary tools and supplies, which is a lot. Now I know why I struggled through them: just being familiar with the process made it possible to make this book.
I found a simple binding to sew, punched slightly larger holes, and was amazed by how much easier the whole process was when I didn’t follow someone else’s instructions. And Sam made it even easier by building a tool that helps align pages.
Hope I can remember this experience next time I’m avoiding finishing something…