Knitting Socks--Part 17

I finished! Mailing the socks to my daughter today because her feet are always cold. I learned a lot about knitting--and particularly about knitting with double pointed needles, modern knitting terms, and following a pattern.

Now this is my new project. It's a crocheted lap blanket (a gift) crocheted in one piece. Yes, that means there are lots of strands of yard hanging down as I change color every twenty stitches. And each square is a different stitch. I call this project "Jewels". When finished it will be 4 1/2 feet by 5 feet with all the color swatches enclosed with a black border.

Do you have a crafty project going? If so, what?

anny

Knitting Socks: The Gusset

Ahhhh. Well, it's almost starting to look like something intentional. What the heck is a gusset, you say? Well, that's that triangley bit there in the middle below the cuff. And what's it good for? Adjustment and fit.

If you've ever worn a tube sock, then you'll recall how you always end up with a "bunch" of sock right across the top of your foot where the ankle is. Very uncomfortable. The gusset eliminates that problem.

My sock doesn't look too bad at the moment, but it wasn't all lilacs and roses. When I last reported I was working on turning the heel and feeling mighty smug about things. And then...ta-dum, ta-dum, ta-dum...I started the gusset. Little did I know what I faced.

Difficulties and irritation abounded. I almost gave up--until enlightenment struck. You see, I had bits and pieces of the sock on other needles waiting for me to get to them. When I picked all those threads back up, it was like a bag full of kittens wrestling.

Threads were taut. Stitches were so tight I could barely slide them on the needle. And I grimly forged on, determined to make it work.

About five rows later, I realized my problem. The stitches were twisted because I was knitting from the wrong direction. I contemplated the prospect of pulling out all those twisted stitches and then decided I could make them work for me, as is. When I started knitting--from the right direction--immediately, the problem went away and it was smooth knitting from then on.

Sometimes my writing is like that. I might have too many bits and pieces so I lose track of the threads. The story lines all get muddled up and for a while it looks like a mess until I get them straightened out.

Other times I'm just approaching the story from the wrong direction. My critique partner will call a halt. "What are you doing???" I'll go back and have another look at the pattern. Usually, at that point the difficulty is clear. Sometimes I can make it work with a few adjustments. Sometimes I have to rip out the work and reknit the story.

But that triangley thing, the gusset, is critical to making the story work. That's the shift from beginning to the middle, the place where all the action happens. Whether my story gusset is a thing of beauty or a mess depends on how much attention I'm willing to devote to it.

How about you? How's your gusset doing?

anny

Knitting Socks: Turning the Heel

"the boring stuff (read it, anyway!)"
"the pattern (you better have read the boring stuff!"~~Easy Peasy Socks by Stacey Trock

When I last reported on my sock knitting, I did mention I haven't knitted for a while--about thirty years or so. After a couple false starts, I was off and knitting my sock. The cuff was pretty easy. And the heel flap was also not too bad.

Then I reached the heel turn--that curved part that cups your heel--and things ground to a halt. Because of course, I didn't really READ the boring part. I skimmed it. And it seemed easy enough so I dove in.

Four rows later, I was three stitches short. I ripped out the work back to the start of that section and began again, knitting and checking, knitting and checking. And...again, I was three stitches short.

At this point, I decided to read the boring part.

The hunk could tell you I'm mule stubborn, but even I have my limit. It seems there was more to ssk (slip, slip, knit) than was evident at first glance. I found a Youtube clip that showed me exactly what I needed to know. Then it was back to the sock. After I ripped out my work back to that section, I began again--and wonder of wonders--it worked.

Sometimes our writing is like that. We reach a point where the story doesn't work so we delete back to that turning point and begin again. Still doesn't work. Hmmm.

Maybe what we need in another viewpoint--another eye on our work. That's where critique partners or beta readers or heck, even a husband or friend, can help. That other viewpoint can often see and identify where we ran off the road.

Then we can get back on track. It's a matter of asking. And being willing to admit we didn't do the boring stuff.

Well, the heel is turned. Now, I'm off to work on something called a gusset. Who knew socks were so complicated?

anny

Knitting Socks

Some of my readers know I occasionally jog off the beaten path while researching odds and ends for my books. One of the things I like to do is give my heroes/heroines offbeat hobbies or interests. When I do, I make sure I know something about that facet.

And I start the "research" waaaaay before starting the book. For instance in the current wip~Copper Cauldron~the heroine will teach another one of the characters how to harvest and process acorns for food. If you're interested in my research adventures regarding acorns, check out the Acorn Adventures page on the blog column to the right or click HERE.

My current adventure involves knitting socks. I've knitted in the far past (more than thirty years ago) but never socks, and never have I knitted "in the round" or used double-pointed needles. Casting on was quite an experience. Actually, it made me feel like I had twelve thumbs. But as you can see from the picture, I'm well on my way to knitting a pair of warm ankle socks. I figure I can use them for slippers this winter.

I once had a reader ask why I get involved in my little reader projects. Why not just read about the stuff on the Internet?

I could. But there are always things you don't know unless you try it yourself. For instance, if I based my knowledge of shotguns on the movies, I would never know about the kick you get when you shoot--especially if you're a woman. The first time I shot one, I was fourteen and weighed about eighty pounds. That sucker put me on my butt in the mud about six feet from where I started. Bam! I had a bruise on my shoulder for a week.

If I never shot a handgun, I wouldn't know how heavy it is. Or how difficult it is for the newbie to hit what you're aiming for. And ammunition...a picture in a book doesn't tell you how it feels to hold it in your hand.

Riding a horse for the uninitiated can be terrifying. If you have height issues like I do, it feels like you're sitting on top of a house. And speaking of houses, how many writers have ever stood on their roof and looked out over the neighborhood? It's one thing to write about a burglar watching a neighborhood in the night. It's entirely different to crouch on your roof and check out the night yourself.

Watching an ultralight plane sail through the air isn't the same as being up there with the wind whipping at your face. Rolling down the runway, willing your motorized kite to lift, lift, lift off the ground or praying you won't crash when you land gives you a different perspective.

Touching a llama is not the same as looking at a picture. Starting a fire with flint is completely different than reading about it. Roofing or siding a house requires skills I'd never thought about until I did it myself. Fixing the toilet is simpler than I imagined. And climbing a mountain and looking over the land...well, trust me, there's a different feel to that.

Research aside, I'm insatiably curious. I want to know for myself. Feelings, touch, smell, taste all matter. Authenticity matters. How can you know how your back aches when you're doing backstrap weaving unless you've done it? How can you know the delicacy required or the hours necessary to create a calligraphy piece unless you've tried?

I'm always wondering. What about this? What about that? So at sixty-two, I'm knitting socks. I figure I'll have them finished by next month so I can wear them for my birthday. Sixty-three, here I come.

anny