Seeking Patience, and Something Unusual

I'm slogging away at the Frog Prince.  Still.  Again.  Would you believe that I still don't love it and I gutted it again?  Broke my heart, but there it is.  I just want it how I want it, and the wise words of one of the Faery Ring knitters came back to me:  "I have never regretted tearing something out to make it right, but I have often been disappointed when I didn't".  Hard to argue with that.  And the thought of knitters at my door with torches and pitchforks is always added incentive. 

My frustration is nearly complete, but I'm trying to keep in mind the old adage: "Be patient, God isn't finished with me yet".  Applies so well to knitters and knitting.

Your kind words and enthusiasm, Gentle Readers, have been such inspiration for me to attack the Knot Garden again:

Here is the second sleeve, begun with a nice bit of the knot garden cable business for a cuff.  I'll turn it sideways and knit up for the rest of the sleeve.  Wonder how come I always like cables better turned sideways?  Same disorder that causes me to color outside the lines, no doubt.  Working on this is a welcome distraction when I get a gut full of the Frog.

And now for Something Unusual:  

Friends of the blog Interweave Press  have invited me to take part in a virtual Tour of Studios.  This event will be held this Saturday, October 3.  Click the magazine cover above to follow the link this weekend, and you can take in the sights, which include the work digs of many different designers.  I don't know about you, but the physical spaces in which creativity happens fascinate me.  My little corner of the design world will be on the tour, so you can see where all the magic (and sniveling) happens.  I can't wait to see where other designers work.  I'm particularly interested to learn if many others have tiny little areas, like me.  My office is actually in the hallway which joins my foyer to my dining room - barely even qualifies as a hallway - and occupies less than 70 square feet.  I long for a real room with a door, but for the time being, this little space suits me well.  Once I carved it out, I was really surprised how popular it became with the rest of my family:  I usually have to shoo one or more smallies out of the way to do my thing.

In the meantime, if anyone needs me, I'll be in the corner, muttering curses on a frog.
 

Knotty But Nice

Thank you, dear friends, for fearlessly picking sides as to which of my UFOs deserved the most (if any) attention.  I cannot express how delighted I am: I have not only been motivated to finish a neglected project (I actually have to do something now that I've dragged you lot into it), but also directed which one to tackle.  My way is clear, and my enthusiasm renewed.  The lucky recipient of our attention is "UFO A", the unpublished, unfinished, and as yet unloved Knot Garden Cardigan.

I thought you might like to see how I start the design process for a commercial publication (as opposed to working directly with a yarn company, which is different).  I tell you this in case you'd ever like to do it, too.  There is surprisingly little information available about how knitting patterns get into magazines, so if you've ever wondered, here's a peek at the process, at least as I know it.

Once Upon A Time (about a year ago) I answered a call for submissions to a national magazine.  It's fairly easy to get into the loop for hearing when magazines want submissions: you just ask the proper editor to be added to their e-mail list.  The strange part is getting used to dreaming up garments that you would never be in the mood to actually knit at that time of year.  The hairy hot mohair will inevitably be your focus in August, and when it's freezing in January, that's when you'll be crocheting tiny cotton bikini triangles.

Nevertheless, I did my best to conjure up something that knitters might like, that I also imagined would fit the theme and style of the publication.  I sent a proposal to them, and it looked pretty much like this, though the names have been removed to protect the innocent:
 

You will note that I did not, however brilliant I thought my idea was, actually knit the sweater.  Nor did I make any attempt to procure yarn for it.  I just sent the proposal on its way, with high hopes for acceptance.

Which was not forthcoming.

Oh well, thought I - can't win all the time.  Sure do like this sweater, though.  This is one I would really wear a lot.  Who wouldn't like a nice little gray cardi?  I wasn't ready to give up on it, so I sent the proposal to a second publication for review.  The second magazine was an even better match for the spirit of the design, I thought.  Surely publication #2 would go for it.

Somehow, between that day and this one (in which I still have not heard a word from either magazine - brutal, but that's just how they treat designers), I convinced myself that this sweater was going to get published because it was so cute, so wearable, so ladylike.  I may also have been under the influence of yarn-induced optimism.  You know how it goes - you fall in love with some really pretty yarn and you think you can do anything.  Knit a whole sweater in one evening?  No problem!  Sell a design to someone who doesn't want it?  Done!  So confident was I that it would be produced, that I ultimately bought yarn for it.  I loaded up on a great yarn that everybody loves and I had never tried.  I cast on, thinking that I might hear any time that the design had been picked up, and then I'd be ahead of schedule.

I just really liked the Knot Garden, and I wanted to make it for myself.  But it's hard to justify spending time and money on personal knitting, so I tried to work a profesisonal design out of it.  And then some project or other that actually held fiscal incentive came along, and  poor little Knot Garden got shelved.

The funny thing is how close to finished it actually is.  Here is the body, and there's a whole sleeve finished, too.

With your encouragement, Dear Blog, I bravely joined the shoulder seams last night, and worked a sweet and simple ribbed collar.  It's cozy, too - I tried it on, and I really like the way it hugs the back of my neck.

Knitting, it turns out, is just full of second chances.  There ought to be more of that in the world, no?
 

Strange Magic

My many digressions to the contrary, I have been working on the Frog Prince.  Today I'm going to show you where the rubber meets the road, in terms of making it a sweater.  Up until this point, the thing was a (fairly cool-looking) combination of steeked rectangles and a collar.  Here you can see the next steps:

I picked up 342 stitches from the bottom of the hem on the front, up over the shoulder, and down the other side to the back hem.  The number of stitches is not pertinent, other than to make you feel sorry for me.  I just worked a stitch through three out of every four rows, as is my usual unscientific habit. Then I settled in for a long winter of plain black stockinette.  This was interrupted by some moderately interesting stuff, notably:

Binding off some stitches at the shoulder, only to pick them up again on the next pass, and add increases to them all, forming gathers at the sleeve cap.  Then I did some short row shaping in the hip area, bound off a bunch of the 342 stitches to create side seams, and pressed on with what was left to create a sleeve, decreasing as I went.  At the end of that, I drank some wine, and then started all over again for the other side/sleeve combo.  I'll admit, it was a dull bit of work.  You would think at some point that I would process the following information:  Knitting a whole sweater means that you must actually knit the whole sweater, rather than leaving the yarn out at night and hoping the elves will come and do all the heavy lifting,  Night after night, the elves' failed to show, their union being in the pockets of the perpetually angry and unfair Knitting Gods. 

So knit it I did, finding other things to post about while that process unfolded.  Thank you, Gentle Readers, for your patience - as ever, it greatly exceeds my own.  Finally the clouds parted, the angels sang, and the Day Of Blocking dawned:

Binding off some stitches at the shoulder, only to pick them up again on the next pass, and add increases to them all, forming gathers at the sleeve cap.  Then I did some short row shaping in the hip area, bound off a bunch of the 342 stitches to create side seams, and pressed on with what was left to create a sleeve, decreasing as I went.  At the end of that, I drank some wine, and then started all over again for the other side/sleeve combo.  I'll admit, it was a dull bit of work.  You would think at some point that I would process the following information:  Knitting a whole sweater means that you must actually knit the whole sweater, rather than leaving the yarn out at night and hoping the elves will come and do all the heavy lifting,  Night after night, the elves' failed to show, their union being in the pockets of the perpetually angry and unfair Knitting Gods. 

So knit it I did, finding other things to post about while that process unfolded.  Thank you, Gentle Readers, for your patience - as ever, it greatly exceeds my own.  Finally the clouds parted, the angels sang, and the Day Of Blocking dawned:

Binding off some stitches at the shoulder, only to pick them up again on the next pass, and add increases to them all, forming gathers at the sleeve cap.  Then I did some short row shaping in the hip area, bound off a bunch of the 342 stitches to create side seams, and pressed on with what was left to create a sleeve, decreasing as I went.  At the end of that, I drank some wine, and then started all over again for the other side/sleeve combo.  I'll admit, it was a dull bit of work.  You would think at some point that I would process the following information:  Knitting a whole sweater means that you must actually knit the whole sweater, rather than leaving the yarn out at night and hoping the elves will come and do all the heavy lifting,  Night after night, the elves' failed to show, their union being in the pockets of the perpetually angry and unfair Knitting Gods. 

So knit it I did, finding other things to post about while that process unfolded.  Thank you, Gentle Readers, for your patience - as ever, it greatly exceeds my own.  Finally the clouds parted, the angels sang, and the Day Of Blocking dawned: