The New England Woodworking Competition: A Not-So-Smooth Journey
So, there I was, sitting at my kitchen table, steam rising from my mug of black coffee, mind spinning like the blade on my old bandsaw. The New England Woodworking Competition was coming up, and, like a lunatic, I’d decided to enter. You’d think I’d learned my lesson from past projects—those times I nearly threw a piece of walnut out the window—but excitement can really mess with your sense of judgment, you know?
The Big Idea
I had this dream of crafting a beautiful rocking chair. Yeah, I know, ambitious when you’ve only ever made a coffee table and a couple of nesting shelves. But, you see, rocking chairs have always held a kind of magic for me; they remind me of sitting on Grandma‘s porch during the summers, sipping lemonade while she rambled on about her youth. So, I thought, “Why not? It’s just wood and some tools, right?”
I spent nights sketching plans on napkins, sipping coffee as I scribbled down dimensions. I bought some gorgeous mahogany from a local mill, the kind that smells rich and sweet when you sand it. I still remember that smell—like an old book mixed with fresh earth. Just thinking about it makes me want to dive back into the garage and get to work. But looking back, I can see that maybe I went into this project a bit too… naively, you know?
The Unravel at Every Turn
Fast forward to day one of construction. I laid everything out meticulously. I had my miter saw humming, my clamps ready, and my favorite chisels lined up. I was feeling like a woodworking rock star, and then it happened. I mean, it always happens, doesn’t it? I messed up my first cut. I was so cocky, just chop, chop, chop, and there I was looking at two mismatched pieces of wood.
I almost gave up right then and there, thinking, “What the heck am I doing? Maybe that coffee table was just a fluke.” But I took a deep breath and tried to remember all that advice from the old timers at the local woodworking shop. “If it’s not right, fix it. Don’t toss it out.”
So I grabbed my jigsaw and improvised, which taught me a valuable lesson: it’s okay to mess up. It’s how you handle that mess-up that counts. Like, seriously, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but embracing mistakes can lead to happy accidents—sometimes, they create a character that makes a piece unique.
The Learning Curve
As I kept working, I hit snag after snag. The joinery! Oh man, I can’t stress enough: listen to that little voice when it warns you about alignment. I was trying to do a mortise-and-tenon joint for the first time, and let me tell you, if I had a dollar for every time I misaligned a piece, I could’ve bought a brand-new chair instead.
After a few more fumbles, I switched to pocket holes. Yeah, yeah, I hear the purists scoffing. I mean, I get it; pocket holes aren’t for everyone. But for me? They saved my sanity. As I drilled those little holes, I could almost hear my inner critic whispering, “This isn’t real woodworking.” But who cares? A functional chair is better than a perfect misalignment, right?
That Glorious Moment
Just when I thought I was about to pull my hair out, I finally got the assembly right. I put the last piece together, stood back, and for the first time, I felt a real sense of pride. I couldn’t believe it actually looked like a rocking chair. The glue was still tacky as I leaned back and gave it a little push, and I laughed when it actually rocked—smoothly, like the way it should!
The echoes of the wood creaking brought me back to that porch, and I could almost hear Grandma saying something like, “Well, look at you! Not half bad.” I definitely lost track of time and ended up sitting there just rocking for a moment, feeling that satisfaction that makes all the mistakes worth it.
The Competition Day
Come competition day, my heart was racing, and I wondered how a small-town chump like me even ended up in a gathering of experienced craftsmen. I stood there, surrounded by stunning pieces that I’d only dreamed of making. There was this walnut dining table that just shone like it belonged in a museum, and I felt totally out of my league.
But you can call it a lesson learned or call it stubbornness; I wasn’t going to back down. I set my chair up, and as folks wandered by, I could see some heads nodding, others smiling. It was like a little band-aid for my battered ego when someone asked about the build process. I could tell my story—my misalignments, the rough edges—and they listened, genuinely interested.
Final Thoughts
Now, I’m not here preaching the gospel of woodworking or claiming I’m some overnight pro. But what I learned through all the stress, the sweat, and yes, those small breakdowns at two in the morning is that the journey is just as important as the final product.
So, if you’re thinking about diving into some woodworking project, whatever it may be, just go for it. Embrace the chaos and the mess; don’t shy away from mistakes. Each piece of wood has a story to tell, and so do you. The joy of creating something with your hands, the trials and triumphs—it’s all worth it for that moment of rocking in your own creation. Trust me, it’s liberating in ways I never expected.
