Wendy Bernard's Blog, page 12

The Swagger and Some Honesty About the Knit Designer/Publishing World

I was driving home just now and it occurred to me that if one has a swagger, that it'd take a lot more calories to walk a mile than if one did not have a swagger. I do not have a swagger.

On other thoughts: I've read with interest different comments from knitters who say they won't pay for knitting patterns. I'm not thinking that all knitters feel that way. But, some do. I wonder why that is. Some knitters will pay oodles of cash for yarn (like, upwards of 12 dollars a skein for a sweater's worth of yarn) but put the kabosh on a price tag of five dollars for a pattern that's not a drive-by freebie. You know, the full-on pattern with all the bells and whistles including professional editing and photography. I will totally admit; however, that single patterns can and do have a range of quality. But that doesn't mean that people should expect that patterns need to always be free. Or, that someone who comes up with the pattern should not be compensated.

Speaking from experience, designing a knit pattern, knitting samples, and having it edited isn't a free or quick process. Some patterns, even patterns for hats, have taken me more than a month to produce. And in some cases--especially since a knitwear designer cannot predict the potential popularity of a pattern--it can take months, if not forever, to recoup the costs of producing it professionally.

When my brother Marc was in high school, his goal, other than making good grades, was to never wear anything but shorts and flip flops the entire four years through rain, sunshine, cold, warm and earthquakes (we didn't have sleet or snow). That was his goal and he achieved that goal. He even wore shorts and flip flops under his graduation gown. And when I see someone proudly announce: "I've never ever paid for a knitting pattern and I don't intend to!" I think of him.

So anyway, and in all seriousness, I have to hand it to Shannon Okey (Knitgrrl), the founder of Cooperative Press. Her goal is to find a way to ensure that all the individuals involved in producing a fiber publication will be able to share profits more equally than what we see in the "usual" business models when it comes to knitwear designers. When knitwear designers create a pattern for a magazine, what typically happens is that they get a design approved, they knit a sample from yarn sent to them and provide a pattern in a super-fast time frame . . . then the publication takes it from there. The publishing house edits it, they photograph it and then when they publish the magazine, several months later, they will pay the designer a fee. Sometimes the designer has the opportunity to make royalties on online single-pattern sales which get paid out twice a year. With books, it is similar, but not always the same. In some cases, especially when a book is an edited group of patterns contributed by several designers, the designer can expect to receive a very small one-time fee (way less than a non-luxury car payment) and absolutely no royalties at all. The editor of that book? I have no idea.

Yes, I have contributed to books and received either nothing or maybe a hundred or two hundred bucks for my contribution. It was my choice and I did it, but this is what people like me face, which is fine. We live in a world where we have choices. I'm not going to--and never will--complain because I also have it good. I am backed by a great publisher and have worked with a handful of wonderful organizations, too.

So, when I see a business model like Cooperative Press, I get excited. Cooperative Press differs from a standard publisher in that they pay four-to-five-times higher royalties, embrace digital as well as print and offer
authors a greater degree of creative control than what they'd normally receive. The thing is, unlike a large publisher, they don't have the money or the publicity power that a bigger house has. So that's why I'm spreading the word.

I have copies of several of their publications, namely their recently published ones in the Fresh Design series which features books on shawls, men, scarves and sweaters. They are available as e-books as well as print. These are not super-slick coffee table books, but that is not what they are meant to be. They are edgy and reflect the aesthetic of many everyday knitters. 

Here are my favorites from each of the books:

Fresh Designs Scarves: Diamond Sampler by Sylvia Cannizzaro (It's Sanguine Gryphon yarn!)

Fresh Designs Shawls: Sea of Tulips Stole by Anna Dalvi

Fresh Designs Men: Gone Fishin' Sweater by Karen Bourquin (no wonder I love it; it's hemp!)

Fresh Designs Sweaters: Ziggy by Pamela Wynne

Wrong. Directions.

So I was teaching a design-your-own shawl class at Unwind today and I asked the group if they were pickers/throwers/etc and the group was pretty mixed. I then said that if you're someone who has knit a certain way for a very long time it may not be worth trying to make a switch. After that, I said that I was taught to throw but since the span of time between learning/quickly quitting and picking up knitting again (like, a span of 30 years) that I made the switch pretty comfortably.

"Not me," said one of my students.

"I guess you could have called me an Eastern Combo Knitter" . . . (not sure if I have the lingo correct) . . . "I was just a beginner and I was happily knitting for awhile and sooo excited that I taught a ton of people how to knit. Then, one day, I decided to incorporate some new skills and realized that I couldn't knit two together using my 'technique'."

"So, I showed someone what I was doing and they told me that I was twisting my stitches and doing some other things and the method I was following wouldn't allow me to maneuver my stitches and I had to completely re-learn how to knit."

And then she paused.

"But the problem was, I had already taught all these other people to knit. The. Wrong. Way."

Ooops.

Which reminded me of the time, at a gas station, a car full of nuns pulled up. The driver nun got out of the car and all shook up, she said:

"We're lost. How do I get on the Southbound 101 from here?"

"You'll be just fine, sister" I assured her.

"See that onramp over there, right near that tree? Just follow that onramp and you'll be happily heading south, I promise."

Then, I finished gassing up my car, got on the 101 heading north so I could go home and drove about a mile. Then, I looked to my right and there they were, all five nuns, happily driving . . . north.

Ooops.

And sorry about the hiatus. We've had some "life" happen to our family. We will be okay. : )

BTW: The other weekend, guess who sat near our table? I'm not usually a drooling fan, but we totally had to kinnear him.

September

September is a big month in our family. It's a big month because three of us have birthdays this month. We have a small family so having three in just one clump is notable.  I think that most families, large and small, seem to have clumps of birthdays in one month. My friend Stu has December birthdays in his family. My sister's husband Ian has April birthdays. Whenever I say that September is a big month to someone they always mention that they have a big month, too, and tell me what month it is. Then we go through the whole, "9th, 14th and 26th" and then comes: "the 2nd, 12th, 17th and 28th!"

So that's how it is. I guess I often mention that I don't like birthdays. I always sort of go over that mantra and wonder why it is that way. Girlfriend likes them. In fact, today is her birthday.

I remember I had a sleepover on my 12th birthday and invited five friends over. My sister Dooze was a newborn so we were relegated to my tiny hot bedroom and were told to keep quiet. That party was so fantastic that one girl had an asthma attack, and while on her breathing machine begged to go home. When my other friends saw how brave she was to admit she wanted to vamoose, they begged to go home as well. An hour later, I was alone in my bedroom failing 12-Year Old Level Sleepover, Intermediate Status.

There was also a time when a boyfriend found a datebook of mine and proceeded to invite everyone in it for a surprise birthday party. When I arrived, I was surprised by a room of people I hardly knew. Anyone else ever fill out a datebook with people you don't really know, just to fill it up?

I will never. do. That. again.

But there is knitting! Lots of it. One of the items I can show you is my latest Sunshine Yoked Beret from my Custom Knits Accessories book. I made it for a family member. It's a little big on Girlfriend, but you get the drift. (Two skeins of Koigu KPPM. Fantastic stuff.)

In other news, not knit news, but news: Our fish tank continues to be the Tank of Doom. Remember how Jumbo the Shrimp and Godot the Frog Who Never Showed Himself (Except to Freak Me Out When I Looked for Him in the Cave)? We found Jumbo on Girlfriend's floor after he jumped out (too late), but Godot was missing missing missing. Someone, in comments said: "Oh, you'll find him . . . eventually" and she was right. The other day he turned up under some clothes in the clothes hamper, petrified. Ugh.

And yesterday, I did my daily head count and there's no Ian. Ian is our one fish who has survived beyond all others. I thought he got sucked up into the filter, but no. He's just gone. Where'd he go? (And no, there is only a small opening in the top of the tank. For him to get out would be pretty unbelievable. But if he did. I know who ate him. Her name starts with an "L.")

 

All the Things I Didn't do.

You know how it is. You have an event that's coming up, maybe someone's leaving for a vacation and you'll be alone or maybe you know that you'll be seeing people you haven't seen for ages so you decide that you'll do all manner of things that will magically transform you into a better version of yourself.

In my case, this past July, I decided, when Girlfriend and HWWV boarded a plane for Southeast Asia, that I would, while I was all alone:

Clean out my closet
Write three chapters
Work out like nobody's business
Clean out my closet
Eat only organic
Possibly get some sort of plastic surgery that no one would notice except they'd think I was somehow looking very rested
Clean out my closet

I did nothing of the sort.

This is how the summer has been for me. I am disappointed. I was home alone for two weeks and did nothing but cry--for two days, but who is counting?--and then the rest of it, after they came home, I stared at my computer plotting how I'd transform myself into a new version of me while yelling downstairs at Girlfriend to turn the channel already and that Spongebob Squarepants is a bad influence.

BTW: Girlfriend starts a new school tomorrow. She has a best friend who has followed her there. Somehow, I wish that she were facing the new school alone. I attended many schools over the course of my education and even though I didn't like it at the time, looking back, it was a good thing. I mean, how else would I feel comfortable telling all of you and every random checker at the Albertson's Grocery that I had an iffy summer and that I am the only one on the block who can do a Fireman's Jump?*

*Not that I would expect you to know what a Fireman's Jump is. In true Bernard Fashion, long ago my brother and I decided that the Fireman's Jump is an unattainable feat for mere mortals, i.e., everyone but us. It has to do with running really fast toward the pool and jumping in but managing to keep your shoulders and head above water as you land. There are only three people who can do it that I have found: Me, my brother Marc, and Girlfriend. So, maybe this summer wasn't so bad after all.

Al the Things I Didn't do.

You know how it is. You have an event that's coming up, maybe someone's leaving for a vacation and you'll be alone or maybe you know that you'll be seeing people you haven't seen for ages so you decide that you'll do all manner of things that will magically transform you into a better version of yourself.

In my case, this past July, I decided, when Girlfriend and HWWV boarded a plane for Southeast Asia, that I would, while I was all alone:

Clean out my closet
Write three chapters
Work out like nobody's business
Clean out my closet
Eat only organic
Possibly get some sort of plastic surgery that no one would notice except they'd think I was somehow looking very rested
Clean out my closet

I did nothing of the sort.

This is how the summer has been for me. I am disappointed. I was home alone for two weeks and did nothing but cry--for two days, but who is counting?--and then the rest of it, after they came home, I stared at my computer plotting how I'd transform myself into a new version of me while yelling downstairs at Girlfriend to turn the channel already and that Spongebob Squarepants is a bad influence.

BTW: Girlfriend starts a new school tomorrow. She has a best friend who has followed her there. Somehow, I wish that she were facing the new school alone. I attended many schools over the course of my education and even though I didn't like it at the time, looking back, it was a good thing. I mean, how else would I feel comfortable telling all of you and every random checker at the Albertson's Grocery that I had an iffy summer and that I am the only one on the block who can do a Fireman's Jump?*

*Not that I would expect you to know what a Fireman's Jump is. In true Bernard Fashion, long ago my brother and I decided that the Fireman's Jump is an unattainable feat for mere mortals, i.e., everyone but us. It has to do with running really fast toward the pool and jumping in but managing to keep your shoulders and head above water as you land. There are only three people who can do it that I have found: Me, my brother Marc, and Girlfriend. So, maybe this summer wasn't so bad after all.

Woot.

This is probably the third year in a row that we haven't done our usual getaway that we used to do this time of year. We just don't have the money.

And looking back to when Girlfriend got out of school in June, I'm wondering where the heck the time has gone.

We did manage to go to the beach this past weekend along with just about every other individual living in Southern California.

I knit a hat.

The sand didn't bother it.

My fingers didn't get sweaty.

And if sunscreen got in it, it'll wash out.

I'm one of those.

I'm also one of those who gets a little twitchy when strangers come up to me and ask me if I'm crocheting. I don't know why it bothers me so much because I like to crochet too, but I'm KNITTING. I can honestly handle just about every other question in the universe (except for when people walk up to me, look at Girlfriend and ask me if she's mine). I will admit that certain comments/statements are a different story, however. The ones that bother me the most are:

". . . Is it just me or (insert some subtle sarcastic anything here). . . ?"

". . . Am I missing something or (insert some subtle sarcastic anything here) . . . ?

"How cute is that?" (Shouldn't it be: "That's cute." or "Isn't that cute?") This phrase will work with just about any adjective and is equally annoying to my ears.

"Squee."

"Woot."

The worst thing about these statements that bug me is that they happen a lot in the knitting world. As in:

"Is it just me or does your stitch count on the ruffle section have an incorrect number?"

"Am I missing something? I ordered your pattern .12 nanoseconds ago and it still isn't in my in-box."

"That hat pattern on that fake newborn baby: How cute is that?"

"Loopy Ewe just added new stock! Squee!" (Woot works here, too.)

Okay. You got me on a so-so day. It has been a doozy.

But the good news is: The weekend is going to be Temari Ball-tastic.

BTW: No, it's not your imagination. Someone's hair is on that ball. And it isn't mine.

Oh, Wait:

I was going to tell you all about the crazy aquarium we purchased about five months ago after Girlfriend accomplished all manner of accomplishments, you know: keep the room clean, make bed, take out trash, weed, yadda yadda for four or five weeks straight and then we went to Petco for an aquarium and then it all began.

Since then, we could have had a community-wide fish fry based on the number of fish that have perished.

That creepy frog Godot escaped and I imagine him waiting for me behind some warmish place (toilet?) and Jumbo, the shrimp, died on Gfriend's bathroom floor after the dogs played with him while we slept. Emily died. Ian hasn't yet, but he's looking like he's ready.

And then I was going to tell you about how I jumped the shark and decided that it was okay to go to a place called Hurricane Harbor, a Six Flags place that is a water park. I should have thought longer and harder about suggesting that we go. We spent 30 bucks a person to get in and then seven bucks for each innertube or whatever you call it. Sheesh. I spent a better part of four hours policing those innertubes. I even confronted a scary dude who decided that he could take one of our five. "That's ours!" I told him. "You don't have an orange wrist band! I'm going to go get my husband! Wait here!" And so, I marched off in my tankini to get HWWV and he was busy so I grabbed my ex-boyfriend/now-a-friend who is decidedly taller and what did he do? He basically said: "Take it, bro; be my guest."

So that's what I get from a tall ex from 30 years ago? He let's the bad guy get one of my innertubes?

That day, I became the innertube fuhrer.

I tell you what: Sometimes I wonder if I should take my knitting to more places. Maybe if I showed that innertube stealer delinquent my needles he would have understood just how crazy I am. And that I'd use them on him, or better yet: force him to watch me knit a round.

I'm sure, after a minute or two of that, he'd give up and let me have my innertube back.

But back to what it is that I wanted to tell you: If you lose someone you love who was very, very sick, when you dream of them, they won't be so sick anymore. They may even be as you remember them when they were healthy.

I didn't believe it when people told me this, but it is true.

When I dream of my mother, she is healthy.

That is what I want you to know.

BTW: Here's a Public Service Announcement. Never use expired 70 SPF sunscreen.

The Knitter's Curiosity Cabinet - Commentary and Giveaway

When I recieved Hunter Hammersen's book, The Knitter's Curiosity Cabinet, I was immediately intrigued, probably not because I don't have a curio cabinet of my own, although my grandmother did have one.

Years later, like 20 years later, I can totally see in my mind's eye what she had in her curio cabinet because as a child, I used to stare in there for hours. There was one nude that my grandfather sculpted and other than that, lots of china, some doo-dads and years later, a cake topper that I scultped for them for their 50th wedding anniversary.

I always admire people who have purposeful collections. Not a crap load of stuff, but you know, collections of items that are kept free of too much dust and that are thoughtfully arranged or re-arranged on a pretty regular basis. Girlfriend has a collection of these tiny erasers that are shaped like hot dogs, triple-dip ice cream cones and the like. She takes them out of this big box and arranges them here and there and then admires them. She shows me and at first I think she's just a kid and then I recall all of the stacks of fabric that I take out of a big bag and arrange and re-arrange on my bed while I lay there at night some times and realize that I guess we all have our stuff. 

As for Hunter, she has taken botanical illustrations and admired them and used the inspiration to create a pair of socks from each of her collected illustrations plus another item. I've been studying stitch patterns lately and from what I can tell, she has very carefully selected patterns that invoke the mood and sway of her botanical prints.

Mood and Sway?

I think you know what I mean.

There are 20 patterns in this book. They are all charted and not all are written out line by line. So, if you like to work from charts, this would be a good book for you. I particularly like the cover pattern, the Chrysanthemum Frutescens Sock pattern.  Most of the yarns in the book are easily found online and substituted with light-weight yarns.

Hunter wants to give one of my readers a copy of this book.

You know the drill: Leave a comment and this time, tell me what you collect in your comment. Today is Tuesday and on Friday I'll do a random drawing.

 

 

I'm Blaming Loretta.

Boy, I have pretty much decided that people who own aquariums must love real-life drama. I'm serious when I say this because I thought, when we took home our very own and got it all started, that it would be everything that it hasn't turned out to be.

Last night, our Bamboo Shrimp, Lucky Stripe, aka "Jumbo" got out. And Godot did too. I only know this because this morning Girlfriend came around my side of the bed, tugged at my sleeping arm and said "Mom, I'm not sure if Jumbo molted on my bathroom floor or if Jumbo somehow got into my bathroom."

This bathroom we're talking about is about 25 feet from the aquarium.

And then I looked into the tank (after seeing Jumbo there on her floor) and I realized Godot was missing too. We only had that frog for about a week and let me tell you, he grossed me out plenty. He'd hide for ages (hence his name) or hang out in his cave with his four limbs planted on the four corners and stare back at me. Maybe he was plotting his getaway but problem is, he's now missing too and we haven't found him.

I will surely die a thousand deaths if I step on something squishy in the middle of the night.

Or maybe he plotted with Lucky Stripe, aka Jumbo, for a getaway while I wasn't looking and he became Loretta's snack. Ugh.

Never ending freshwater aquarium drama, I tell you. I should contact a local freshwater magazine and ask if they want an aquarium columnist who specializes in wonky ph balance, escaper and swimming sideways stories.

On knitting news. Well, there's plenty, but it isn't half as interesting as what is going on in and around that dang tank.

1. I'm knitting my first chemo cap. This one is jaunty. It's not for me but for a family member.

2. I think yarn bombing is a waste of time.

3. I will not knit a cozy for that tank.

4. I have officially spent 8 hours knitting one 4-inch swatch. It wasn't a good time.

5. The chicken is almost done so I have to wrap this up.

6. Knitted socks are completely underrated. Especially the ones that are just stockinette.

7. When your husband wears them till they die, it is a compliment.

8. When your daughter wears them till they die it is even more of a compliment.

9. People, knit socks for your loved ones. And don't use worsted weight yarn.

That is all for today.

Except this: I probably won't be able to eat shrimp again. For your eyes only: Jumbo, aka, Lucky Stripe, on Girlfriend's bathroom floor. (How the heck did he get there?) 

 

Being Alone and All the Lost Promises

Awhile back, Girlfriend and HWWV left to visit his family far, far away. The first day I cried a lot and then I decided to buck up and get. things. done. Get lots of things done. You know: like, clean the closets, vacuum a lot, finish two chapters of the book, keep things really pristine, read a lot. Eat lots of fruits and vegetables. Go to the gym every day. Look glamorous.

I should know better by now.

Let's just say I didn't accomplish much of anything that I planned.

I did sew stacks of cocktail napkins even though the last time I had a cocktail party was, oh, uhm, never.

I completed those Mitini Mitts from Blue Sky Alpacas. Remember how I said I weighed the yarn before, in between and after? Folks, check your gauge because this was a nail biter. I actually enjoyed the suspense. The mitts are adorable. I had just one gram of yarn left over. (My gauge was a bit loose so the drama was my fault.)

And I was glamorous--never--but in my mind, heck yes. 

Oh, and I taught a class and did a book signing. The class was all about semi-circular shawl construction. When I walked in, one student said, "Hey, I thought you'd be, I don't know, maybe less serious, in person. Then another student said: "Yeah, and I always pictured you with a southern accent, or maybe like a southern belle."

?

So, the class was fun and everyone was fantastic. We had a great time. But the comments about me not being the way others thought I would be in person baffled me. 

And then it hit me as I was driving home: They were confusing me with Crazy Aunt Purl!

Other news: I'm doing a Custom Knits Accessories KAL on Ravelry, in my Knit and Tonic Group. The kick-off is tomorrow. This time, we're encouraging lots of customization and there will be lots of yarn prizes as well as a Pattern Fairy who will stop by and shower Knit and Tonic patterns on participants. And yes, the Pattern Fairy is me. I won't try to fool you like my neighbor whose son is at least 13 and is still bamboozled by his parents who insist on keeping Santa and the Easter Bunny alive for him.

Like I said to Girlfriend when she asked me about the Easter Bunny while driving home from school a couple months ago (age 9): "Mom, is the Easter Bunny real?"

"Think about it and decide for yourself." I said. "Do you really think a bunny can deliver hard-boiled eggs and candy to everyone who celebrates in one night?"

"Maybe," she said.

In my defense, I asked her an honest question.

But when it comes to yarn, a gram is a gram is a gram. Check your gauge and go forward and be fabulous.