How I Became an
"Expert Knitter" (cont.)
Having to write patterns for the general public was a wonderful
training in how easily people could be completely confused. Because
we produced so many books and editorials, we used many other pattern
writers, and they all wrote patterns in different ways. Some were
incredibly wordy, or wrote miles of directions for something
bleedingly obvious. Some wrote patterns with silly sequences or
unnecessary steps and some were just wrong. If the test knitters
didn’t sniff out the mistakes or the confusing bits, the general
public sure did. The boldest actually rang the company. Sometimes my
friend, June, who took the complaints, used to ring through for me
to listen in to some of the most bizarre questions. One lady was an
“expert knitter”, and in fact, she assured June, so were all the
friends she had consulted before ringing the company. She kept
saying there was nowhere to put “me” in the garment. The
instructions were for a sweater knitted from cuff to cuff, with a
hole for the head, and because the number of stitches that
eventually had to be knitted for the back and front was so large,
the knitting was done on a circular needle to accommodate the
stitches. She had missed that part of the instructions and had
somehow, with the circular needle, knitted a strangely shaped
sausage, with, indeed, nowhere to put her.
One of my great satisfactions was the response to a pattern I did
for an editorial. It was a jacket that could be knitted in a
weekend, if not less. Using huge needles and five different,
luxurious yarns, knitters went crazy. I met one knitter who knitted
sixteen of these jackets in various colours. Years later I still see
some of them being worn. I have seen some in op-shops. Another buzz
was seeing a very distinctive sweater I had designed on a passer-by,
only four days after the magazine featuring the pattern went on
sale.
Two new experiences, and here is where the niggling to write a book
really started, were that we advertised constantly for test knitters
and I also gave knitting lectures at yarn and craft fairs. Every
round of advertising produced lots of knitters and every one of them
swore she (we never had a he) was an “expert knitter”. Every single
one!!! We looked at the garments they had brought to show us, paid
them to knit from one of our patterns, and then chose the knitters
we would employ. First of all, to keep our sample garments standard
in the techniques used for knitting and finishing, the knitters were
asked to spend two hours in a group with me so that I could explain
what I wanted, and why. That rarely went down well. So many were
insulted.
“Knitting lessons!? I’m an expert knitter!!!”
Some dropped off, some refused to come and the rest turned up,
resigned grim faces and ruffled feathers, fluffing around and
putting me through the hoops. They tried to throw me off balance
with very good, or sometimes inane, questions and I really had to
know my stuff. The knitters were an odd mixture. Aggressive, funny,
weird, delightful, clever, nasty and gracious, every possible kind
of personality. They worked like demons. Some worked at night, all
night. I’m in touch with a few of them to this day. They taught me
with their questions and I’m grateful.
My other teachers were the people at craft fairs. After I had given
my fifty minute or one hour talk and demo, there was always a
question time. And after that had finished, then there was the real
question time. Usually accompanied by a docile (he had to be, he was
there) husband clutching all the bulging plastic bags and a child or
two, the women waylaid me as I was trying to escape and waited
patiently in self-imposed queues with all sorts of queries. I heard
amazing knitting tales and was asked almost all the same questions,
over and over again. Occasionally there would be a curly one and
that was great. New blood.
None of the questions disappeared into the ether, they all had to be
factored in when writing another pattern. Very few knitters want to
go to the trouble of contacting the yarn company or pattern writer,
and so confusing patterns can stop a knitter from attempting to knit
more garments. Less wool sold. Simple.
With such a huge range of contact with knitters with vastly
different intellects and ranges of experience, as well as rusted-on
techniques, I solidified what I thought I could put in a book. I
have named this book for all those “expert knitters”.
---
All these stories are to establish some
credentials, otherwise, why should you take any notice of what I
have written and what I suggest? Most of the things I explain may
just be motherhood stuff to you, but I hope something I have
included will ring a bell and help you to make fabulous knitwear!
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