Playing (Not So) Fast And Loose

After yesterday's post, I got a few emails asking me what super human skills I had.  Alright, they didn't precisely ask about my super powers, but they did mention that I seemed to handle troublesome patterns with apparent ease.  For them, I have but one word "Haha-You're-Kidding-Right."

Much of my knitting productivity is the result of three factors.  Two of those factors are icky (stress, insomnia) but one of those factors I'm happy to share with you.  I hope it helps as much as it helps me.  Be warned: this is seriously long but I hope, worth the reading. 

Punishing Patterns: Be The Boss Of Your Knitting!

Step One: To Thine Own Self Be True

Before I even consider a pattern, I think about what I can really use.  There are some truly beautiful garments out there, but I know, deep in my heart of hearts, that I'm never going to rock certain sweaters.  Some people make Kilronin look amazing; I would get strangled.  One of the most important aha! moments in my knitting was when I realized that just because something was so unbelievably beautiful that it almost hurt to look at it (see the entire Tudor Roses book)  didn't mean it was going to flatter me.  Frogging gracefully is something I'm still working on, but loving your knitting means learning to love the "growing pains," right?

After deciding that I WANT NEED MUST HAVE a garment, I take a look at what I'm going to use it for.  Is this going to be a sweater for play?  For a special occasion?  For a friend?  By being brutally honest with myself (a skill I'm still working on) I can avoid most big mishaps.  A pair of wristers for my never cold friend?  Probably a bad idea.  Socks for my Giant-Footed-Dad?  Well intentioned, but maybe not the best use of my love.  If I'm planning to make a heavily cabled indoor sweater, perhaps alpaca is not the best choice, no?

All this background thought happens in the first thirty-five seconds I see something.  You probably do something similar, whether you voice it with "Gosh, that's beautiful but I'd never have the patience for it," or "Annie would love a plain cotton sweater but all the stockinette makes me want to take up watching paint dry."  Every time we see a potential project (see also, friend, mate, seat on the bus) we evaluate the pros and the cons.  Do I want a plain wool pullover?  Or is my (knitting) time better spent pursuing something totally unique to me? 

Making these first judgement calls is really crucial for project success, for whether you are knitting a bootie or bootie skirt, there's going to be a moment where something! anything! cleaning the oven! sounds more fun than finishing the project on the needles.  Convince yourself that this is an important project before you cast on and the symptoms of Start-itis generally don't manifest.

Step Two: Know Thy Enemy

Once I've picked a pattern to love and cherish until death do us frog, the real fun begins.  I do several things whenever I select a pattern:

1. I choose yarn.  I rarely pick a pattern for yarn which is why I don't have much of a stash.  As a general rule, I don't buy yarn that I don't have a plan for because then it just marinates before I toss it for something I want more.  With rare exceptions (the silver Tess', for example) I don't purchase out of lust.   This makes me more productive with what I have, because I bought it with intention, instead of  shining eyes.

2. I read the pattern through.  Carefully.  I photocopy the pattern and write all over it.  I always photocopy my patterns (often on legal size paper and blow up the charts, too) and if you take nothing else from this post, take this: Copy your patterns.  Co-opt the office copy machine for five minutes one morning or go to Kinkos or buy a mimeograph machine from ebay: just do it. 

Having something you can write on is imperative and if you feel like you can write in your pattern books, then jolly for you.  Post it notes are a good idea (I always have a pack in my notions bag) but won't give you enough space.  I write so much that having scrap paper to jot notes really helps.  It takes the fear out of modifying a pattern and more importantly, it allows me to dissect each line into its methods and its goals.   I want to know what I'm trying to do with every stitch. 

I'm absolutely serious; I want to know exactly what I'm doing and why.   Most patterns get abandoned by this stage.  I lose interest or don't care enough to correct the glaring issues with a pattern.  I'm attracted to something else and like a toddler, I'm in search of the shiny thing over yonder.

3. Reading through a pattern seems time consuming, especially if you do it as thoroughly as I do, but I promise, this is time you've saved yourself down the road.  The picture above is the marked up version of one page of the Katherine Hepburn Cardigan; the additional smaller piece of paper has notes and questions that I want to answer before I really start the sweater.  In this process, while I'm ruminating on possible errors or inelegant solutions within the pattern, I poke around the web and see what other people are doing.  Knitting a pattern after the blogworld has consumed it (like Audrey) means that other people have already worked through whatever issues I'm going to find. 

Sometimes, though, I tackle things before other people have, like my Cabled Riding Jacket or my Lacy Waves Top.  Usually, if I'm one of the first to knit something, it's because the pattern is so new that no one else has gotten to it, not that I'm just that much better than everyone else.  In fact, if this post does little else, I hope it demystifies my (for lack of a less pretentious word) process.

4. Once I've marked up a pattern, including underlining all my size instructions and checking the stitch counts, I look at the pattern's construction.  What is the shaping and how is it accomplished?  How is the garment assembled: do I need to add selvedge stitches?  I want to understand everything about everything, so I check and double check abbreviations; I assemble the tools I need.  Chefs call this step mis-en-place, and they conclude it by reading the instructions once last time before diving in.  I do the same thing; when the directions say "increase and take into pattern" I want to know how I am going to do that long before I get to the increase section.

Let's take the Katherine Hepburn Cardigan again for this example:

Just the Facts, Ma'am: The pattern tells me that, for a sleeve, I cast on x stitches, where x is 3 (the edging but not the selvedge stitches on one side) +11 (the edge repeat on the other side) + n repeats of 13 stitches (the main repeat).  This is fine until I get to the increase section, where I am directed to add 20 stitches, ten on either side.  Danger!  Danger!  A quick google tells me that someone hasn't already dealt with this problem, so I've got to come up with some solutions:

Option A: I have a 10 stitch gulf of stockinette on either side of the seam.  It'll be on the underside of my arm, but that is not so good.  In a word: Eww.  Also: lazy.  I can do better.  I've seen the actual sweater and this is how the test knitter solved this problem.  Clearly, I'm not the only knitter who found this particular direction somewhat ...lacking.

Option B: I increase an extra stitch on each side of the seam (thus giving me 22 stitches instead of 20) and work complete repeats of the edge lace.  This won't work because I have to contend with the 3 stitch selvedge the pattern already has on side, so I don't solve the 20 stitch/no even repeats issue.  I could add an extra stitch one side (total on the left is 11) and add only 8 on the other side (total on the right is 11 also because of the original 3 stitches just hanging around on the chart), leaving me with a final total of 19 and then manipulate the shaping to accomodate the lack of final increase stitch, giving me even repeats of 11 on either side but that will look crappy until I get to 11 on either side.  Still an inelegant solution. Lumpy.

Option C: I just cast on a complete extra repeat of the internal lace (the 13 stitch one) and hope my arms fit inside.  Still lazy, but prettier!  Or add two extra repeats (giving me 26 extra stitches) and massage my arm hole shaping to get everything fit together.  A bulky solution to a cardigan that needs sleekness. Nyet.

Option D: I dissect the motifs into their integral parts: how is the lace worked and how many stitches does it require?  How are the cables worked and how many stitches do those need?  Can I insert small aspects of the motifs every four stitches, instead of every 10?  If I add a single yarn over and corresponding decrease, will that mimic the feel of the pattern and allow me to play for time?  For the moment, this is the best solution, because is eliminates a huge valley of stockinette in an otherwise heavily patterned fabric, yet allows me to adhere to the desired shaping.  Yay!  Of course if the pattern has deeper, more fundamental errors, I have to fix those too, but at least I know.  Before I have to increase, decrease and turn a cable, all in the same stitch! and it's midnight! and I'm sobbing!

If you're still reading despite this long example, I hope it helps you understand why taking a pattern apart, piece by piece is so important.  You'll note that I've not said anything about picking up my needles yet; why? is an important question.

So, why do I do all this work before I even get started?  Yes, it seems tedious, but I promise it's really, really important.  In the case of patterns whose test-knitting provenance is dubious at best (Teva Durham and Norah Gaughan, I'm talking to you) I get a huge leg up on the pattern before I even start.  Even if there are no published errata available, I know where I'm going and I understand how I plan to get there.  Knowledge is power!

Even if it seems like this is a ton of work, it's not, not when you consider the hours and little bits of your sanity that you put into your knitting.  How many times have you gotten to a point where the pattern just gives up?  Or looked at a finished garment and said "That was really stupid.  I could have done that so much better."  Save yourself the bitter, bloody tears and work out the solutions in advance.  A good place to do pattern spelunking is at your local yarn store; if they've got a back table where you can hunker, camp there for two hours one afternoon and see what you learn.   Bring chocolate.  The yarn store helps loves that.  Or rather, this yarn store help loves that.

This kind of background work really turns my crank (really?  you hadn't guessed?).  You might find you really enjoy it as well, especially if you head it into with a spirit of adventure and not annoyance.  Knitting is fun!  More fun for everyone!  But more seriously, this sort of expedition can be really interesting and will do wonders for your technical skills, especially if (like me) you're considering more advanced pattern writing.

Understanding how patterns fit together is vital for understanding your knitting in a comprehensive way.  I don't mean to imply that if you don't do this, you're not a good knitter.  Quite to the contrary, in fact.  That I have to go through this entire rigamarole to get to point where I even consider picking up the needles is proof of my green status, not yours!

Step Three: Swatching Is Like Vegetables and We All Love Vegetables, Right?

Once I've picked apart an entire pattern, I'm committed.  I know the sweater is happening.  There is no force on Heaven or Earth (except perhaps Jonathan Rhys Meyers sprawled on a bed of cashmere) could stop me from finishing this sweater.  I swatch! 

Swatches are not evil.  Swatches are your friends!  Yes, they sometimes lie.  Yes, they sometimes misbehave, but they love you!  They mean well!  If they told you an untruth, it's because they didn't know what you wanted.  Swatches are the misunderstood teenagers of the knitting world!

I'm serious, though.  Swatch.  Mean it.  Want it.  Love it.  Make a big swatch.  If you're wondering "Am I done yet?" the answer is "No."  Make it bigger.  There is no such thing as a swatch that is "too big," (except, perhaps a sleeve) and there is no such thing as a swatch that gives you too much to measure.  You can always rip it out.  If you run out of yarn after unraveling your swatch, you were going to run out anway.  Don't blame the sainted swatch; it only wanted to help. 

I bind off my swatches to the last stitch and secure the loop with a safety pin.  Then I soak the swatch in the manner I'm going to wash the sweater and let it dry.  There is no such thing as a sweater you're not going to wash so there is no such thing as a swatch you're not going to wash.  You might be stunned to realize how much your gauge can change between washings.   

The swatch in the above picture is from last night and it took a mere slip of a show.  I was done before they hit the credits and I had time to eat pizza.  I got spot on gauge on 8s (only after washing, I should mention) but compared it to the fabric on 6s, 7s and 9s.  Having a big swatch lets you look at what you're getting and decide if you really want to knit to gauge (another discussion entirely).  Having a substantial swatch lets you make important decisions, like wood or metal? size small or medium? Beatles or Elvis?

Once your swatch is dry (check your gauge again!) and the pattern is ready, you're ready to knit.  See if it doesn't go much, much faster.  Or maybe, it just seems like you're going faster because you're so ready to cast on that you're starting to shake.  Either way, I've let you in on my little secrets.  I hope they help!

Comments

[Gina]

These are great ideas. It's the research one needs before diving into a project. How many of us would travel to a foreign land without a bit of background research, booking a hotel, figuring an itinerary, etc. In fact, I must force myself to take better notes as I'm knitting and making modifications. Thanks for the kind push.

[Joanna]

Great post, I couldn't have said it better myself. I will not hesitate to frog and reknit and frog and reknit until I'm completely satisfied with whatever I'm working on, but often I can save so much time by just planning ahead a little more. Plus, repeated frogging makes the yarn unhappy, and yarn is my friend, and I want to treat it well.

[sogalitno]

funny i am working on KH too. after giving up using Classic Elite Inca Alpaca - i found some Zara marinating and started a sleeve with a darkish color - got gauge and then decided i wanted to make it in the lighter color i have ( 1700 a pretty purple) and started the back last night

BTW for the sleeve i just did the increases in the pattern - adding a panel of lace first and then the cable ... i thought she mentioned that in the sleeve instructions - ill have to check though, maybe i just did out of habit.

anyway, i am going to rip out the back - after i recheck my gauge and do it in the round - i was going to at first and then decided not but now i am - since there is little neck shaping really .

but first i have to finish the TAILORED SCALLOPS (in the rejected Classic Elite mentioned above) which i want to wear on sunday - .... a knitting marathon will commence tonight.

[Carrie]

I am so tagging this post in my delicious list. you are a smart schmoo.

Okay. so here's my question: in the hepburn example, I don't see the problem in the numbering when the increase stitches are added in. This may reveal me as 1)a lazy reader or 2) dense but explain to me the danger.

[Julia]

A dork after my own heart. Step one I follow religiously. I also swatch rather religiously. I read through a pattern beforehand, but mostly because I just enjoy reading patterns, and that is part of the selection process. The rest I do on the fly, and I have been known to write directly into my Rowan mags, though not if there is a chart - then I definitely blow it up in a copy and write all over it.

[Cher]

Elspeth, I think I love you.
(Yay for geeky knitters! There are more of us than we know.)

[stacey]

what a great step by step! I do most of that (especially the photocopying - I write all over my patterns!) but it's nice to see it all in one place and written so well! It may save some people some heartache!

[Elinor]

So true, so true. I love the bit about swatching. My husband has learned to say 'no' without even looking up when I ask, "Is this big enough?" or "Is this 6 inches yet?" Heh.

[Jenny]

Ok, I don't do any of that except swatch, and I'm not religios about that either. I'm so printing this so I can remember all this!

[Kim]

If you run out of yarn after unraveling your swatch, you were going to run out anway. Don't blame the sainted swatch; it only wanted to help.
This is my #1 reason for not swatching (or doing a small swatch, or starting a sleeve). Thank you for straightening my head.

[dharma]

I do not, yet, put quite that much in the patterns I choose, but of course I have yet to make a substantial item. Mostly simple little things and sweaters for the toddler niece. I do a lot of "Gosh that is so beautiful" but rule it out as being a far from flattering choice for moi. {sigh}

[Kel]

There is no force on Heaven or Earth (except perhaps Jonathan Rhys Meyers sprawled on a bed of cashmere) could stop me from finishing this sweater. I swatch!

Quoted for maximum truth. And JRMness.

[Bea]

I'm glad you posted this, I too love the KH cardigan and am looking forward to see how you work through some of it's issues.