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.

Yes Sir, Yes Sir, Three Bags Full

Yeah, Baby!   Prestigious plentitude!  The lovely and talented Marilyn King of Blackwater Abbey has graciously provided a big ol' pile of her dreamy yarn for a new project.  And the best part is: It's For You!  This gorgeous wool is waiting to become a new FREE PATTERN, just for you, my devoted following.  That's right, I said  FREE PATTERN, and it's all yours.  Or it will be,  just as soon as I make it up.  Which will be just as soon as I fix my little train wreck from earlier in the week.  Just as soon as I finish writing 3 more chapters and send my manuscript to the editor.  Just as soon as I design this teensy-weeensy little project that I'm under contract to provide.  Two weeks, tops, and I'll be working on it.  I have placed the yarn on prominent display in my living room as a motivational tool, which so far is working.  I can barely keep my hands off of it.  I'm not telling you anything about the free pattern yet except its name:  "Faery Ring".  I love it already, and I promise, so will you.  I'll post it here, and on Ravelry, and Marilyn will have it on her site, as well.  The color of this yarn is "Bracken", which I would describe as a Complicated Oatmeal.  Definitely has cinimmon and raisins and butter in it.  Delish.

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.