On Completion

How true it is that the end of one thing is only the beginning of another.  On Sunday I sent all the chapters of text to my editor.  Deadline Met.  Mischief Managed.  For now.  Pressing "send" (which I mysteriously did not feel ready to do,even though I really had to) felt exactly like mailing my wedding invitations:  No turning back, now.  I realize that's a little odd, considering that I have already knitted all summer and then flown 2000 miles to deliver all 24 knitted items, their patterns and instructions.  And the book is by no means done; this is just one of the first milestones to be passed.  But somehow sending the writing part seemed very much more scary.  Maybe because I am less confident as a writer than as a knitter.  I mean, it's kind of a numbers game, no?   There are gobs more people who would consider themselves professional writers than knitters who would do the same.  Does that mean they are all automatically better at it than I am?  Of course not, but calling myself a Writer Of Books is just such a serious and grown-up thing to do that I hardly seems my style.  Fortunately it's not something I have to do - calling myself that, I mean.  I think I will just keep knitting and see if anyone else calls me a writer.  If they don't then I haven't really grown up, and if they do, then It's not like I went around tooting my own horn, is it?.

And while I was pressing "send" so bravely, I also delivered the new-and-improved, formerly-non-fitting-but-now-actually-fitting pattern to the yarn co. that I was bellyaching about a couple of posts ago.  How sad it is to fall in hate with something one has created oneself!  I remember like yesterday how much I adored that project; how I couldn't wait to get started on it; how I decided it would be worth endangering my book deadline (twice, it turns out!) just to have it published...Now I'm nothing but glad to see the back of it.  I'm going to put the finished sample away for a while, and see if I love it again after time and other projects have dulled the pain.

I have been worried that completing my manuscript would leave me at loose ends for work to do.  So much so that I have been loading up the "pipeline" with design work and actual knitting.  Now I truly am at the beginning of the next thing:  If I am going to have anything to do next spring, I have quite a little bit to do.  I'm working on one design while waiting for go-ahead on another and dreaming up two others.  All of that in queue before Faery Ring, which is what I really feel like working on.  Self-discipline sucks.  Or I think it would, if I had much more of it.

We Had One Once, But the Leg Fell Off

I used to work for a designer who used to say that to denote a SNAFU, Train Wreck, or other Project Gone Sideways.  It was kind of like "Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious"; the thing to say when you don't know what to say.

I've had a spot of bother the last few days, which I'm sorry to say left me blogless.  For one thing, the deadline for all the words in my book is Friday, which means I really need to be writing them.  Hey, no big deal, it's only the culmination of more than a year's worth of work.  Not stress-inducing in the least.  I can't find a coherent sentence with both hands.

Naturally, in light of that, this is precisely when another of my projects would derail.  It seems that a certain national yarn company who contracted me to design a certain knitted garment for them would like said garment to actually fit a human being.  Fussy, Fussy.  The pattern I wrote for them unfortunately contains math, so I'm thinking it's probably all my fault that the finished sample garment doesn't fit.  My relationship with mathematical concepts is casual at best, so it stands to reason that if I try to make a pattern without actually knitting it so I can correct my arithmatic along the way, there's ample opportunity for things to go badly awry.  And awry they went.  Somewhere between the yarn company (Them) and the designer (Me) and the sample knitter (Her) one or more wheels fell off the wagon.  Somewhere between Them and Me and Her, something went sideways, and a catalog deadline has been missed.

So it's okay, I tell myself.  And Them.  And Her.  I can fix it.  And I can.  All I need is more hours in the days.  And some kind of Deus Machina that can mimic exactly the movements of my hands with needles and yarn while fabricating perfectly perfect results that surpass both my skills and the laws of physics, while simultaneously cranking brilliant prose out the other end, while I lounge poolside with a martini.  I know that such a machine exists.  We had one once, but the leg fell off.
 

The Eagle Has Landed

The Loveland Depot, now a sports bar, but still a darn cute building

As promised, the sweaters and I took a field trip on Friday.  Actually, it was more like the Mother Ship calling me home.  Loveland, CO, home of Interweave Knits, is just the cutest little burg - complete with a wee pub to have lunch in:

Henry's Pub

I got to meet my editor, Ann Budd, who is not just good people, she's positively the best.  Apparently, it's highly unusual for the author to accompany the samples to the publisher, but Ann not only allowed it, she welcomed me with open arms, and entertained me all afternoon too.  When it was time to say goodbye to the sweaters, I felt that they were going into the best possible hands, so it was surprisingly easy to let them go.  Best of all, I got to have a real conversation with Ann about what it is I'm supposed to be doing next.  There is still the little matter of writing, now.  Turns out when you sell a book, they want it to contain actual words, as well as eye candy.  Who knew?  Guess I'll have to write me some of them things.
 

Yeah, I know - how tourista can you get?  I couldn't help it though.  The Aspire Media headquarters are actually housed in a former bank building, whose vault makes handy storage for their servers!  These are clever folks, my friends.  Ann gave me a tour and introduced me around the office.  Everyone was lovely, and unsuspicious of the weird author who wanted to come and meet them all.   I'm sure they thought I don't get out much, and they're pretty much right.

On the flight home I sat next to a lady who, although she looked quite different than me, gave me the sense of looking in a mirror.  We didn't speak - I was too exhausted, and she had on headphones.   I know we had a lot in common though, because she sat cross-legged and barefoot the whole trip, just like I do.  Her bag on the floor in front of her had bamboo knitting needles sticking out of it.  Here's the problem:  She didn't take them out the whole time.  There I was, knitting my guts out (airplane knitting is one of my favorite kinds) right next to her and she didn't even make a move toward her bag.  She had a snack.  She did sudoku.  She read Sarah Vowell (another reason I knew we were kindred).  She did not knit.  I wanted to demand of her why not, but I realized it would have been totally inappropriate, having not spoken for 2 hours.  I was dying to know why she wouldn't knit.  I checked for evidence of hand/arm injuries; nothing.  The needles were large and long - 11s at least -so maybe she didn't have enough room to swing them?  There was an empty seat between us though, which was more than roomy.  I was really freaking out when we finally landed.  How could she have wasted 3 hours of totally unmolested knitting time?  She stood up, gathered her things, and waited to get out into the aisle.  From where I stood behind her, I got a perfect view into the open top of her knitting bag, and there was the answer:  Lion Brand Homespun.  I woulda left it in the bag, too. 

Please don't think I'm a yarn snob.  I have worked with Lion Brand Homespun, and many other of the Lion company's fine products.  Without the Lion Brand basics, I would be one very sad and yarnless knitter.  After all, we do not live by foie gras alone - we need the basic brown bread that is Lion Wool in our diet.  But Homespun is the Cheez Whiz of yarn to me.  Plastic and coarse, and generally unsatisfying.  Given a choice between Homespun and sudoku, I would have done the puzzle, too. 

I wanted more than ever to speak to her then, but it's just as well that it was our turn to deplane.  The conversation in my head about this poor woman and her yarn had gotten too weird even for me.  God Speed, strange knitter;  better yarn next time.

Things got a lot more normal once I hit the ground.  My family were there to greet me, and it was time to go to the pumpkin patch, where I found some real beauties:

And the pumpkins weren't bad, either.