Two Crafts

Recently, while scrolling through my phone at work, I came across an article that likened writing to knitting. Once home I tried to find the article and found another similar. Both articles suggest that the craft of writing should be treated in much the same way as knitting: learn from your mistakes, correct your holes, take any and every opportunity to practice and perfect the craft, and be prepared to undo your work and start over even when it hurts.

While I can understand where both writers are coming from, I would like to suggest that for me at least, it's the other way around in that knitting is a lot like writing. As a writer and a knitter, I can learn a lot about knitting from the way I approach writing.

To begin, I've rarely had a problem with undoing my writing: whether it be deleting whole scenes, rewriting chapters, or starting from scratch. Perhaps it's because I can simply save the document as a new draft and not have to get rid of the earlier draft (or drafts).

However, knitting is not like that. Once I've undone something I have to start all over again. There's no backup in case I decide I don't like the new one or that the previous version was better (unlike writing where I can just go back to an earlier draft), as happened recently when I undid a whole lot of knitting because I thought it wasn't going to fit, only to reknit the same size when I realised I had thought wrong. 

With writing, I expect to be always working on my craft and never realising perfection. I'll sit down and write and not have the perfect word but have confidence that I will find it, or I will quickly jot down some lines that contain promise but as yet are very rough and imperfect. But when knitting I am  dismayed by anything less than perfection in my knitting (which means I am obviously often dismayed).

Recently I made cardigans for my four youngest Most Adorable Granddaughters. I can't tell you how many times I redid the buttonhole bands on not one, but several of the cardigans. Some I even worked several times and was still unhappy with the finished product.

I was so frustrated with my inability to get the buttonhole bands right the first time that when it came time to knit cardigans for The 3 Charming Grandsons I opted for zippers. After all, I reasoned, boys are more likely to appreciate zippers to pretty buttons any day, aren't they?

Zippers went in okay. But I worked the front on one of the cardigans at least three times. The same front. I made a note in my knitting diary about how frustrating it was and that I was obviously not thinking straight.

But now, having considered knitting in the light of writing, I can see that I wasn't a failure at all but simply refining my skills. There is no shame in undoing if the finished product is better for it.

Perhaps the greatest thing writing has taught me about knitting is that it's okay if it takes more than a day/week/month/year to accomplish. This is something I used to know when my children were little, when a sweater (even a child-size sweater) could take me a year or more to complete. Now, I feel compelled to finish a sweater in a month and often pay for it with painful hands and wrists. I need to give myself permission to take longer - maybe even to let the creative process simmer for a while - and enjoy the process rather than just the finished project.

And while it will always be scary to thrust my writing out into the public arena, knitting is often for a far smaller and more appreciative audience. Perhaps there's a lesson in there for the writer?

Lush cardigan by Tin Can Knits. Worked in 8ply/DK wool. Three in Size 3-4 and one in Size 5-6.

Gingersnap for Bigger Kids by Kristen Rettig. Worked in 8ply/DK wool. Two in Size 5-6 and one in Size 7-8. (The pattern called for 10ply/worsted yarn so I ended up working a size larger to compensate for difference in gauge/tension.)

So far the closest I have to any "action shots" of the finished garments: