the three realities of ripping

Recently, I made an horrendous mistake--by not reading my own pattern for which the back of a sweater is narrower than the front. Without reading my own pattern, I simply made the back the same as the front, and it was too big!!! Geesh!!

So what do we all do when this happens? We attempt to convince ourselves that it doesn't matter. We keep knitting past the error to the point where we can try it on. Then we spend hours in front of the mirror trying to argue ourselves out of the realization that this is not working!!!

We whine, we curse, we have our little hissy fit--all the while, not doing the one thing we need to do: rip it out and do it right.

While twirling in front of the mirror, I made the following realizations:

• I had wasted a whole lotta time by knitting past the error so I could try it on and convince myself it didn't matter! Really!???
• I am wasting time in front the mirror when I could be ripping;
• I am wasting time trying to talk myself out of what time it would take to rip when the truth is that if I don't I will never wear the piece--which is a huge waste of time and money.

So I ripped--after probably 24 hours of avoidance. And guess what! I had that thing ripped out in fifteen minutes!!!!

Yes, of course, then I had to spend time re-knitting. But what was I going to do as soon as I finished this piece? Find more knitting?!?! I just found it.

• The first reality of ripping is that we waste far more time avoiding it than it would take to do it.
• The second reality of ripping is that we waste both time and yarn if we don't.
• The third reality of ripping it that it gives us the one thing we want most in life--more knitting! (And we didn't have to spend any cash to get there.)

Bottom line: ripping saves both money and time, and this is a lesson I should have figured out a long time ago! What does it say about human nature that I did not?

And can I truly say I've learned the lesson even now . . . .

jumping the fence

There are fences we walk along. People tell us we should jump to the other side. But we hesitate. Doesn't yet feel like the right thing to do, no matter what others say: not ready, too much work, may mean a loss of control . . . whatever the reason and despite all the advice we are given, we're not goin' there.

What am I talking about? Here's an example. Get a cleaning service! People tell us that as working women, but we think

• I can't spend the money,
• I can do the work,
• I'd have to do all that stuff before they take over!

This was me. But OMG, once you jump that fence you wonder what you were thinking that you waited so long! Major head smack!!! Once you cross over you are not goin' back. And you are now the one giving the advice to others: jump that fence!

There are other fences to be jumped that are kinda the opposite--where we don't give up the work to others but take on the task ourselves. Again, we think we're not ready, that it would be too much work, but this time the fear is that we don't have the skills. And so we walk the rut along the fence line, wearin' it down.

I was reminded of this yesterday when Nicole from Victoria (Hey there, Nicole!) wrote the following:

I just purchased the Kindle version of your new Knitting Pattern Essentials (and it’s nothing less than fabulous, as are all of your books), but I have a question about something that wasn’t addressed in the book.
 
I have a notebook full of design ideas, and I have several knitting design books, but I’m having a very hard time finding anything that specifically addresses large collars, particularly portrait-style collars. I used to do tailoring and dressmaking for a living, so I suppose I could buy a sewing pattern and use the pattern pieces as a template, but I would really like to have a resource from a knitting pattern designer who’s already worked out the bugs.
 
Any possibility you could point me in the right direction?

I answered. 

Nicole, I don’t know any more than I wrote in the book, which is the following.

1. There’s a section on collars that includes the collar stand (or not) plus the increases that have to happen at the center front.
2. There’s a small section at the beginning that explains that everything is simply horizontals and diagonals—number of stitches and numbers of rows.
   

My advice would be that YOU CAN DO IT. Find the model of one you like (on a blouse, in your head) and then work it out! Do understand that you WILL rip as you do this, but the good news is that this is JUST the collar, just part of the finishing, so ripping won’t be a big deal.

Remember that she said she had a book full of design ideas? So I continued.

When you have a book full of design ideas, it means you want to design. When you are ready to design, it means you are ready to explore a vision—definitely not always a vision someone else has written a template for! So this tells me that it’s time for you to have the confidence to do it. Don’t assume you must rely on others exclusively: get what you can from them, and then move forward yourself. You will be SO happy with yourself when you make that leap!!!!

And then, trust me, you’ll wonder why it took you so long to do this, and master it, and feel justifiably empowered!

She wrote back. (I was curious for this, not sure how she would react to my advice to jump that fence!)

I knew exactly what you meant – and boy, can you read me like a book!

I have totally been waiting for someone else to hand me all the answers, so I could just knit up my designs without a lot of trial and error. Sheesh.

I’ve literally looked at hundreds, if not thousands of designs, and not come across a single one that was exactly what I was looking for – that’s got to be a message, eh? There’s a whole design esthetic that I want that doesn’t really exist, or at least not my version of it.

You’ve convinced me…time to get off my butt and accept the challenge with passion and energy!

Thanks, Sally – you rock.

Sometimes jumping the fence means doing the work ourselves! And what a happy-dance day when we do! A whole world opens up, and we rock!

So what fence are you walking? Ready to jump?

lessons from a traffic report

So a while back I was listening to a traffic report. Yes, I know my city and the streets he's discussing. But for the life of me, I am having trouble processing what's he's saying . . . because he's saying it too quickly. I think I was trying to visualize the intersection, and by the time I got close, I'd have lost the information. (Maybe the visualization was happening in the right brain, but the language required me to go to the left, and I was unable to do the to and fro as quickly as the information was coming.)

So then I wondered Has anyone called in and asked him to go more slowly? Am I the only one?

And then the light bulb went off!!!

At moments when I am teaching, especially at the end of class, I occasionally see blank stares after an instruction. With apologies that always accompany the request, I am then asked to repeat what we all know is a simple instruction. I will do so, often saying That's okay: at the end of a class, I say left hand and you hear yarnover (which sounds silly but is actually true).

But the day of the traffic report I then realized that my students were having the same experience! Even though I am very precise in my language, and I try my best to be clear, I am--at this moment in class--speaking too quickly. My students are hearing the language but also trying to establish the visual. I need to give them more time to do so.

So in my last two teaching venues, I have tried to keep this in mind. And I really do believe that the classes at Rumpelstiltskin Yarns (Sayville, NY) and Creative Yarns (Macon, GA) were the best. I do love all my classes and all my students, but I do believe there was a perceptible difference, and I think it was because I deliberately slowed down towards the end of class.

For those who have never taken one (and I do suspect I am preaching to the choir here), knitting classes are great fun, and time passes very quickly, but at the end you are worn out! Who knew it could take this much energy!? But if you have this reaction, you have likely learned a lot and know it was all soooooo worth it!

Speaking of classes, I am often asked if I will be in Ohio, NY, Florida . . . anytime soon. That information is on my website: www.sallymelvilleknits.com under SCHEDULE.

And speaking of my schedule, I am really excited about an upcoming venue.

In May, I will be teaching at the Grand Hotel (from the movie of the same name) on Mackinac Island (northern MI for those who don't know). What a gorgeous venue! Who wouldn't want to get inside this place?

But you know who would very much like to do so? A girl who went to high school just north of there (Sault Ste Marie, ON CA), who went to Mackinac Island on dates and for high school graduation, who stared longingly at this landmark hotel, who thought that ever getting inside was unattainable. And that would be me!

Just goes to show you, as they say about knitting and baseball and all things wonderful: you never know!

launch day!

Today is a day of celebration for me. It's the day my last, and most anticipated (at least by me), and most comprehensive book launches.

So how can I say those things?

last book
I know myself to be primarily motivated by teaching. Believe it or not, I never set out to write pattern books : I set out to teach, and the patterns were merely support for that. (I know that's a rather odd thing to hear when I am probably most known for a single pattern: The Einstein Coat. But teaching you to knit it was actually my primary goal.)




Even in Sally Melville Styles (my first book, on using up leftovers), I did not intend to include patterns. The garments I made to support the principles I was teaching were meant as illustrations: I was actually surprised when my editor suggested we publish them!

So it's in this book that I teach pretty much everything I know about producing great garments. I've dumped my knitting brain on the page and don't think I have anything else to teach.

 By the way, that same editor asked me "how many books I had" in me. I answered "I think seven," At the time, I had no idea where that number came from. It just sounded good (and isn't usually considered a lucky number?)

This book is number seven!

most-anticipated book
This is the book I've always wanted to write.

My knitting career started with this material. In the late 1970's, I wrote a 100-page manual (and called it Advanced Knitting Design). I taught it at my local yarn shop, my students and I established what was (at the time) the largest knitters' guild in Canada, we brought in teachers from abroad, those teachers pushed me out onto the international stage . . . and the rest is my professional life.

 It feels wonderful to offer this book, taking me back to my roots and allowing me to say thank you to the craft I love and that has given me the life I have.

most-comprehensive
This is where I put all the tools I have into your hands.

This is where you will learn skills that will keep your whole brain alive and healthy.

This is where you will find everything I can offer to make you a fully-empowered knitter!

It is based upon the premise that everyone one of us should be able to do the following:

• go to our closet, 
• find a garment we love but did not knit, 
• measure it,
• draft it,
• knit it, 
• finish it,
• wear it with pride,
• honour our craft!

To finish, here is my own example of how you might use the book.

I have a black vest I've worn forever and ever. Very simple, probably 20 years old. I have often told myself that I should knit it. And so I finally did--a simple round-necked vest, with deep set-in-sleeve armholes, with straight-sides . . . and with a bit of an edge in its unexpected use of zippers.

I will call it Zip-Study Vest, and the pattern itself will appear on Ravelry some day.

But in the meantime, the book offers you all the tools you need to do this for yourself. When you do this, the result really can--and might--be this simple. But these are the garments that are the staples of our wardrobe and that we wear day in and out.

This is how I work, and this is what the book offers you. Enjoy!

balance through change

This should have been posted Feb 23: I was just too busy to get to it!

Also a warning: while I do come around to knitting in the end, this is more personal than usual.

You've heard all that good stuff: change is constant, life is change, the more things change the more they stay the same, etc. But no matter how much we are supposed to embrace it, change is rattling!

I am facing a big change. It's a change I chose, it's a change I have looked forward to, it's a change I am to be envied for. So why, for the past week while I've been packing up everything I own, have I felt grief-stricken and profoundly disturbed?

I probably need to re-learn and re-confirm some lessons I learned long ago.

lesson one

 Many years ago, something wonderful happened to my son: he won what seemed at the time a major piano competition, and he was only 12. We were so very excited for him,  . . . but it had a terrible outcome for us! He was much younger than the other competitors, but we were encouraged to allow him to stay in a university residence with the others . . .  and where we were told there would be adult supervision. But there was none--other than the lovely, teenaged, female competitors who kindly took him under their wing (which he adored). 

So this kid came home telling us that we couldn't tell him what to do anymore! He had designated himself an adult overnight (after all, he had lived like one for 4 days), and we plunged headlong and without warning into . . . unpleasantness.

The lesson from that experience was that no matter how good something seems, there's always a down side to it. 

lesson two

 And the obvious corollary would be that no matter how bad something seems, there's a lesson to be learned that will make sense of it.

lesson three

 And if nothing is ever wholly good or wholly bad, then nothing should be able to shake our foundations too terribly much.

This last lesson was sorely tested 4 years later when a much bigger change assaulted me and my 16-yr-old son and 14-yr-old daughter: my husband and their father died. Staying balanced through that was very hard but necessary. (After all, I had two teenagers at home!). 

lesson four

 From it I learned another lesson for survival-through-change. Find out what you believe in, and keep a steady grip on that.

No matter what storm is going on around us, we need to find what gives us meaning and hang on for dear life. I did that after my husband died, I did that after the heartbreak of my professional life (when my relationship with XRX ended), and I've done that through subsequent difficulties.

and now . . .

 So now a lovely change looms: I am leaving my condo to move into a house I have bought with my daughter and her (builder) husband. In 4 days I will move into their part of the house while they build an apartment for me; when it's done, I'll move into it; then after their part of the house is renovated they'll move in. We should all be enjoying the yard and pool by mid-summer.

So what's to mourn? In the end, it'll be wonderful! But it all came a little too early. (I guess that's the other thing about change: we can't always pick its timing?) I am not ready to leave my space and neighbourhood, so I am feeling a little sad as I pack.

lesson five

 Maybe there's the final lesson: it's okay to grieve. Despite all the comfort we can find from those other lessons, it's still okay to feel sad. If we swallow what ails us, doesn't that make us sick? And if I don't acknowledge my sadness, then I won't go looking for these lessons I've learned that help me get through it!

This whole thing is reminding me of mistakes in knitting.

    Acknowledge the mistake.

    Feel sad for a bit.

    Learn the skill needed to fix it.

    Fix it . . . and create something wonderful!

    Start a new project!

We love you Ryan!

So, Ryan Gosling was asked, by GQ in Australia, how he would spend his perfect day. His surprisingly lovely reply was “knitting.”

Here’s how he continued.

"I did this scene in Lars And The Real Girl where I was in a room full of old ladies who were knitting, and it was an all-day scene, so they showed me how. It was one of the most relaxing days of my life.

"If I had to design my perfect day, that would be it. And you get something out of it at the end. You get a nice present. For someone who wants an oddly shaped, off-putting scarf."

We will happily forgive him his suggestion of the old lady and oddly-shaped knitting stereotypes. Because, really, who saw this coming? And what might this do for our craft?

I wrote, in the November 19^th post, that one of the reasons knitters don’t get the respect they deserve is that men don’t do it. Something that is considered exclusively female just doesn’t get the credibility, mileage, or respect of something that is gender-shared. That’s just the way the world has worked for a very long time. (Never mind that the original knitters’ guilds were men only. That was a long time ago and now easily dismissed.)

Once the industrial revolution hit, and knitting (and the men who did it) went into the factories (where the money was made), hand-knitting became almost exclusively female: women at home did it because it was cheaper than buying the factory-made goods. That marginalized hand-knitting in a world that was increasingly motivated by profit.

Fast forward to modern times, where—with globalization—a hand-knit sweater is much more expensive than what we can buy in stores. And if money were the only currency, you’d think this would make knitting precious and special. But, no, people (well, really, women) who knit were people with enough disposable income and time that they could make what they could easily buy. In a world increasingly motivated by expediency, knitting made even less sense to people who didn’t do it!

It seems that we can’t win for losing!

But thank goodness for the movie stars. Someone watches Julia Roberts knitting, or hears her rave about it, and knitting is hot and sexy and the new best ever thing. (That’s what happened at the turn of the century.)

And now we have one of our hottest male stars saying the same thing! OMG, how fabulous! I cannot wait to see how this unfolds! Maybe knitting will become the best new trend among gorgeous young men! The possibilities surely make this old heart beat faster. 

PS If you have not seen Lars and the Real Girl, you now clearly must. (It really is a lovely movie. But even if it weren’t, it’s probably something we all must do in support of our new guy?)

What keeps us from moving forward?

My last post, plus the New Year, lead me to address the following (posed long ago on Ravelry): "I keep wanting to experience new things with my knitting. But then I go back to what I know how to do. I seem to be stuck somewhere within my comfort and can't seem to blast myself through that wall that's preventing me from moving forward."

I have a virtual arsenal of quotes, and stories, and opinions on this subject. And I'll begin that assault in a moment. But before I do, just let me say that while we can speak to this from our heads, we cannot think ourselves out of this place of safety. It is our feelings—usually fear—that need be conquered. So while you read what follows, listen to what resonates emotionally.  If you feel something, a button has been pushed . . . and that's where you need to go looking.

Okay. Let's start with a concept that I embrace.

There is no such thing as a mistake.

How in the world can I say that? Because you cannot be born knowing everything there is to know. (There are people who think they are, but we're grateful we're not married to them.) Your parents, your teachers, your knitting instructors could not anticipate and teach everything you need to know.

So . . . there are things you don't know and mistakes you are capable of making. And you will make them . . . until they bite you . . . and you think That isn't serving me very well. And so you do the work to learn what you need to learn to not make that mistake again.  And what can we conclude from this?

If we are capable of making a mistake, then we needed to make that mistake in order to learn what we needed to learn to not make that mistake again. And so the mistake is just an experience we needed to have so we could learn and grow.

Maya Angelou said it much better: You did the best you could until you knew better. And when you knew better you did better.

If all that seems too theoretical, let me give you a practical example, paraphrased from the book Art and Fear, by David Bayles and Ted Orland.

On the first day of class, the pottery teacher announced a new way the class would be graded. The half sitting to the right would be graded on quality (the usual way): one perfect pot would earn an A, etc. The half sitting to the left would be graded on quantity: 50 lbs of pots would earn an A, 40 lbs a B, etc.

When grading occurred, a curious fact emerged: the pots of best quality came from the quantity side of the class. That side had turned out lots of pots, exploring ideas to produce some really good work. The quality side, on the other hand, had produced no wonderful pots: they had sat theorizing about the perfect pot rather than putting in the hours of trial and error to actually get there.

Unless we dive into our materials and just give it a go, often what holds us back from moving beyond our comfort is fear—of frustration, of failure, of waste (time or money?), of humiliation.

How do we deal with our fears? By embracing the following truths.

• Frustration is painful but an inevitable step on the road to learning. As Winston Churchill said Creativity is the ability to go from one failure to another with no loss of enthusiasm.
• There is no such thing as failure. As Henry Ford said Failure is the opportunity to begin again, more intelligently.
• I believe that there is no such thing as a waste of time. Our left brain, which is the clock-watcher, is also where established patterns reside. So when we try to establish a new pattern, this side of the brain feels out of control,  gets critical, and accuses us of wasting time. This is no reason to give up. And fortunately, knitting is a right brain activity in which time is irrelevant. (I truly believe that whatever we are doing in any given moment is exactly what we were meant to be doing in that moment. This helps me get through life.)
• There is no waste of money in knitting: we are much to be envied because we can rip out our materials and re-use them.
• And finally, humiliation is something we do to ourselves. (No-one can do it to us unless we let them.) And why would we do this to ourselves? We should treat ourselves as we would a grandchild.

So, what to do when we find ourselves stuck? *Try something new. Be prepared for frustration. Ignore the yammering left brain. Be persistent. Be prepared for mistakes. (Understand that these are lessons to learn before proceeding.) Learn (or teach yourself) every fix-it technique available to knitters. Employ them until you achieve success. Repeat from *.

And, sadly I suppose, be prepared to produce an occasionally truly ugly sweater. We could have a competition. But I promise you I'd win! I'd have to, if only because—over 56 years of knitting—I’ve produced a great volume. But I look at these sad pieces and comfort myself with a quote by Chekov: One would have to be God to look at both success and failure and know one from the other.