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  The lucky recipient of our attention is "UFO A", the unpublished, unfinished, and as yet unloved Knot Garden Cardigan.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:

My UFO Collection

Gentle Readers, in an uncharacteristic fit of Responsibility, I have decided that it's very nearly time to address the Elephant In The Living Room.  This particular pachyderm is harshing my mellow by hogging up more space than it should.  It's my UnFinishedObjects Collection, and I realized this week that it has begun to crowd my creativity.  And by "crowd", I mean, make it hard to think, hard to use my imagination for new stuff, and in some cases, hard to sit down. There may be one or two big fat ideas in my life whose time has failed to arrive.

One of the truly outstanding results of my having become a "real" artist is the air of credibility my work now has in my own head.  That is to say, when I ask myself, "Self, what should we make today?", I now offer myself alternatives that I think are likely to advance my art agenda, rather than waste time feeling badly about the andirons I'm not polishing, and the cobwebs collecting about the baseboards.  But legitimizing one's passion in this way is only gratifying until one runs out of clean underwear.  So by way of making a little breathing room, I think it's time to take steps.

My cunning plan is to call upon you, dear blog, for your wisdom and inspiration.  I'll offer 3 UFO's for your consideration.  The one receiving the most votes for attention will be photographed, commented upon, and then Disposed of in one of the following ways: 

1. Finished and enjoyed and/or published;  or
2. Returned to Nature, via gifting, frogging, or combustion.

Submitted for your consideration, the following UFO Disposition Candidates:

A.    UFO A is a delightful cardigan from last fall.  I submitted A's design proposal to two different knitting rags for publication.  In a rare move, I was so excited about A that I actually bought yarn and dove in; convinced that it would have to get published by somebody and then I'd actually be ahead of the knitting schedule.  Ill-conceived bit of logic, that.  Neither publication went for it, the weather changed, and I saw something shiny, all before it was finished.  Gray Peace Fleece worsted with cables and a collar.  Still missing one sleeve and the collar.  I even found & procured the perfect buttons.

B.    UFO B consists of no less than three (3) unfinished pairs of argyle socks.  Level two of the Master Knitter program requires the completion of one argyle sock.  Having no love of intarsia, duplicate stitch, back-seaming, or any of the other required argyle sock elements, I naturally went after this project with all the restraint of a chainsaw.  I figured I'd keep knitting them until I either mastered the process, learned to love them, or ran out of sock yarn.  None of these things happened.  I have learned how to graft a toe, though, since these went to time-out, so The Argyle Project might actually still stand a chance for completion.  Also, some of these socks are in smally sizes, so it would be cool if they could be worn before being outgrown.

C.    UFO C enjoys long walks on the beach and quiet evenings at home, which must be what drew me to it.  C may actually be the most recent pattern I worked on which was written by someone other than myself.  It's a reworked vintage pattern for a short-sleeved fair isle pullover, and it's really adorable.  Except that it's made of COTTON YARN, for some damn dumb reason, and is therefore unsteekable.  The top 1/3 of the garment requires knitting back-and-forth, maintaining the pattern.  I can't remember exactly how close to the end I got before crying uncle, but I do remember the pain.  I know the sleeves and the entire lower body are finished, so it probably should be revisited.  If nothing else, it deserves the "It's not you, It's me," speech.

So there they are, dear friends.  Three UFO's whose fate should really be decided, in order to gain a little intellectual surface area.  Won't you weigh in on the candidate you feel is most likely to succeed? 

While you decide, I'm going to finish the Frog Prince (no, I haven't forgotten, and it's closer to Done than you would think), and I'll show you the rest of that process next week!