4. Wait and wait and wait and wait. Six weeks go by, then eight, now you are frantic. You know that pestering the assistants at the magazine is unlikely to make you any friends, yet you consider calling. You go online and ask everyone you ever knew who ever submitted a design for consideration anywhere if he or she has heard anything about this particular issue/deadline. No one knows anything more than you do.
5a. Sometimes, you get a “thanks, but no thanks” letter. Rejected—boooooooooo … Sometimes you don’t hear anything at all, but find out via your trusty Internet sleuthing that those whose designs were chosen have already gotten contracts and gotten started so you know this wasn’t your time. You might now decide to self-publish; if you do, skip to number 8. You might also decide to submit somewhere else (although you now have missed the seasonal deadline) or rework the piece before shipping it off again. Or,
5b. Your design was accepted—yaaaaay! And then quickly boo when you realize how much you have to get done and how little time you have to do it. You get a contract in the mail, some of which makes as much sense to you as a foreign language in which you are not fluent. You ask your cousin the real estate attorney for help. He laughs and says it doesn’t make any sense to him, either. You do as much due diligence as you can and then sign it and send it in—you are so happy to get published, it isn’t as if you are going to say no, is it?
6. Now you have to tell the publisher’s office how much yarn you need so they can get it shipped to you, and by the way did they mention they need the sample crocheted and the pattern written in 1,200 sizes about forty-five minutes after the yarn is expected to get to you? That’s not a problem, is it? No, of course it isn’t—all will be well.
7. You have to get the model made now, either by doing it yourself or hiring a contractor. So you stalk the UPS man, waiting for your yarn to come in so you can get started. As soon as the sample is finished, you fly to the delivery service of your choice and ship the model off. Amen. The pattern gets e-mailed and passed along to the tech editor. It will be a few months before your pattern hits the newsstands, so you are free for a while—maybe to get started on something else. Skip off to number 9.
8. The joys of self-publishing. You have to do (or pay someone else to do) all the things that a big publisher would do. However, the upside is that you should get a larger share of the profit from the pattern sales, should there actuallybe any sales. You don’t get to call someone to order yarn—you pretty much have to go buy some. You still need to get the sample crocheted and the pattern written in 1,200 sizes, but you can be a little flexible about the deadline—hey, you’re the publisher.
So you make the model, take the photos, write the pattern, send the pattern out for technical editing or test crocheting or both, devise a layout, investigate internet pay-per-download delivery systems, and check out printing hard copies to sell either at wholesale or retail. Then you, too, skip off to number 9.
9. The tech editor has a question, or two or three. You go over whatever he or she has “clarified” in your instructions, but they aren’t any more clear to you so you ponder and reread until it all makes sense. Often you find that the technical edit did in fact make things better in the long run, so you are happy. At least you hope things are better, because you wrote the darn pattern so long ago now that you aren’t completely sure what it was that you did.
10a. If you are being published by someone else, the magazine or book finally hits the public eye. You are very excited to see your name in print, and in such good company. There are some really great things in there along with yours! You drag the magazine around to show everyone you know, even the ones who don’t crochet. Some are more impressed than others, but all of your friends are excited for you. You feel like a big dork but you might even get a copy framed—it is a big deal. Or,
10b. You publish your design online and it finally hits the public eye. You are very excited to see your name in print and in such good company. There are some really great things out there in indie publishing world! You drag the pattern around to show everyone you know, even the ones who don’t crochet. Some are more impressed than others, but all of your friends are excited for you. You feel like a big dork but you might even get a copy framed—it is a big deal.
11a. You wait for the check to come in. You wait and you wait, and you stalk the mailman the way you stalked the UPS guy for the yarn. Eventually it comes and you are very happy—you actually made money from your passion for crochet. Of course, by the time you figure out how many hours you spent, both in preparation for selling the design and in getting it all done, you realize that you could have made way more money flipping burgers. But what the hell, you are now a professional designer. Cash the check, take your family and friends (provided you don’t have too many of either) out for a decent lunch, and start all over again. Or,
11b. You wait for the orders, and therefore some money, to come in. You wait and you wait and you check your PayPal account constantly. Eventually some orders come in and you are very happy—you actually made money from your passion for crochet. Of course by the time you figure out how many hours you spent, both in preparation for selling the design and in getting it all done, you realize that you could have made way more money flipping burgers. But what the hell, you are now a professional designer. Cash the check, take your family and friends (provided you don’t have too many of either) out for a decent lunch, and start all over again.
If you are serious about working as a crochet designer full-time, the minute you submit that first swatch, you submit six more, and then start planning the next six. You seed the clouds of publications by spreading submissions far and wide, because if you don’t get a bunch sold, then you are not going to make enough money to buy cat food, let alone pay any of the big bills. The same goes for independent publishing—one down, a bunch more to go, to get some cash flow. Plus, you keep submitting to the magazines anyway because if you get a pattern in one of the bigger ones every now and again, it’s good publicity—it gets your name out there.
Now instead of one pattern in development, you have a bunch—yarn is piling up in your living room; you are begging people you know to work as model makers, or even models; and you just pray you get the right yarn matched up with the right pattern as sample garments come and go.
You’re probably still not as rich as Croesus, but you’re having a great time. People warned you that getting into publishing would take all the fun out of crocheting, that it would then be a chore rather than something you do for fun, but it’s all fun. The first time you see someone out there in the real world, wearing something she made from one of your designs, is an unbelievable feeling—all the aggravation was worth it.
When aspiring designers ask about getting into the business, they are often told not to bother. It’s a lot of work, often for little remuneration, and you will work 24/7 to get established. And that really is true. But have you noticed that there are a whole lot of crochet designers out there? That’s because when the designs come to you, they demand to be set free—best not to stand in their way.
Passing On the Yarn Gene
Simply by being a child of mine, my daughter spends a fair amount of time surrounded by yarn. It’s here in the house (as in everywhere in the house), turns up in the car, and I am rarely without a project stuffed in a tote bag when we are out and about. But she always had a take-it-or-leave-it attitude with yarny crafts—yarn was fine, but other things were equally fine.
I started dragging her to sheep and wool festivals because I wanted to go to them. I didn’t have much arm-twisting to do after the first one because there were animals to pet, and she has always loved animals. Then she was drawn to the colors and textures of the different yarns and she always, always wanted to try every craft she saw. Which is why we have a kumihimo braider, a spinning wheel, a rigid heddle loom, and a box of acid dye colors stuffed in the various niches in my home that are not already full of yarn. I just knew that something, sometime, would awaken t
he yarny goddess within her. But no luck.
I taught her to knit; she could take it or leave it. Ditto the crocheting, the braiding, the spinning, the weaving (the soap making, the scrapbooking—you get the idea). It isn’t that she couldn’t do any of these crafts on her own. Her desire to do any one craft long enough to get fast at it just wasn’t strong enough. And I always wondered if she would turn sort of anticrafty so as to establish her own hobby identity as separate from mine.
I tried to encourage her but only a little bit, so I wouldn’t turn into the yarny equivalent of a stage mother. As she got a little older she would point out patterns in the books or magazines or pull a particular favorite yarn out of my stash and ask me to make her a garment to wear to school.
“You could do that yourself,” I pointed out.
“Yes, but you are faster,” she replied.
“You would get faster if you practiced more.”
(long dramatic sigh)
And then I would make her the garment anyway. I love making things for her, and as the teenage years approach like an oncoming freight train, some part of me treasures the fact that she will still be seen in public in something that came from my own two hands.
One day at Mecca (the Sheep and Wool Festival in Rhinebeck, New York, for those of you who are misguided enough to think that yarn heaven is elsewhere), we were tooling around the booth of a wonderfully talented dyer and choosing roving to go with our just-purchased drop spindles. A gray-haired woman with an armload of color looked at me and shook her head with a slight smile on her face. “You know you are taking a real chance bringing her in here,” she said. I must have looked puzzled, because my daughter has always had excellent shop manners (she definitely got the shopping gene from me), and I thought the woman was implying that children shouldn’t be shopping in this setting. Then she smiled more broadly and said, “You are setting that poor child on the path to a lifelong fiber addiction!” “Well,” I said with a laugh, “it’s too late for me; she might as well come along for the ride.” Everyone nearby smiled and we bought our roving and moved on.
It was easy for me to laugh. I already knew about my own fiber addiction and the kid had always been more interested in the shopping than the crafting. I am sure if I had some other type of lifestyle, I mean hobby, and if there were weekend-long festivals with cool things to buy, she would have been equally interested (or not interested, as the case may be). Plus being little and cute has its advantages. Some wonderful vendors at Mecca gave her gifts of fiber and tools because she was polite and interested—and free stuff is almost better than shopping. I guess in the back of my mind I figured the fiber gene had skipped a generation—she was interested enough because it surrounds her, but the attraction to the needle arts was not rampant on a molecular level.
But this summer, everything changed. We were at yet another yarn and fiber event, and in the interest of having something to do while I schmoozed (or more likely, because she heard that the attendees of this particular class, Crochet for Kids, were getting a really awesome goody bag), she took a crochet class. The instructor was great (and not me, a definite advantage), her friend was sitting next to her (and has a preexisting interest in crochet), the goody bag was in fact awesome and full of yarn sure to warm the cockles of an almost-twelve-year-old heart (it was brightly colored! And fuzzy! And sparkly! And all three at once!!!), and she learned how to make a really fast project (instant gratification). She had a great time and was smiling ear to ear when I collected her from class.
She crocheted all that afternoon and into the evening, presenting some of her friends with her very first handmade flowers. She crocheted in the car on the way home during a fairly long drive. She crocheted after we got home—making flowers for her friends and bags for every electronic item she ever owned (a not inconsiderable number). She pulled out the stash she had been given over the years, unearthed a wicker basket in which to store it, and started poring over crochet books. The next time we had to go out on an errand that we knew would involve some tedious waiting time, I reached out for my tote bag full of yarn and saw that she already had hers on her arm. The fiber gene, hiding all this time, had kicked in with a vengeance. My child was hooked!
And I was delighted. Does that make me a bad mother?
Part Three
Goth Princess Toilet Paper Doll
Well, if we are going to make toilet paper covers shaped like women, let’s at least advance to this century, no?
I had more fun putting this together than I ever did making a Southern belle! Let your (subversive crocheter’s) mind run free and accessorize your Goth princess as you see fit.
Materials:
About 150 yards worsted-weight (CYCA 4, medium) 100% acrylic in black or another tragic, dark colorway. The model shown used half a skein of Caron Simply Soft in Black, color #9727.
Crochet hook size H/8/5 mm, or size needed to get gauge
Roll of toilet paper
Bargain-brand 11- to 12-inch “fashion doll”—the cheaper, the better as you are going to abuse it!
Permanent-bond glue for attaching pieces to the doll
Assorted crafts supplies for accessories. Go wild, but I used: white glue to stiffen the Mohawk purple paint for hair, leather or faux leather scraps for the bodice and cuff, small silver-colored flat beads for studs, tiny silver jewelry findings for earrings, 12 to 18 inches of silver chain, a fine-point permanent black marker for lipstick (and I wish my hands were steady enough that I could have done a tattoo!), and some replica beer bottles I found in the miniatures department of a local crafts store.
Gauge: 12 sts and 9 rows = 4 inches in dc
The Skirt (TP Cover):
Ch 48. Join into a ring with s1 st to 1st ch, being careful not to twist the ch. Ch 3.
Rnd 1: Dc in each ch around, join with s1 st to beg ch. Ch 3. (48 dc)
Rnd 2: Skip 1st dc, dc in each dc around, join with s1 st to beg ch. Ch 3.
Rep rnd 2 until work measures 4 3/4 inches long, or long enough to comfortably cover the height of your chosen roll of toilet paper. Begin your decreases:
Dec rnd 1: Sk 1st dc, dc in each of next 5 dc, dc2tog, *dc in each of next 6 dc, dc2tog. Repeat from * around, join with s1 st to beg ch. (42 dc)
Dec rnd 2: Sk 1st dc, dc in each of next 4 dc, dc2tog, *dc in each of next 5 dc, dc2tog. Repeat from * around, join with s1 st to beg ch. (36 dc)
Dec rnds 3-6: Continue in pattern as established, working one less dc between decreases for each row. End off. (12 dc after rnd 6)
Assembly:
If you are going to give the doll a mad hairstyle, it is easier to do that before assembly. I saturated the doll’s hair with white glue, fastened it above her head with a rubber band, and allowed it to dry overnight. Then I chopped off the ends to produce a modified Mohawk and added the purple paint.
Put the skirt over the toilet paper roll, insert the doll through the top opening, and push her feet all the way down until they touch the bottom of the roll. Thread the yarn tail through the last row and pull it tight around her waist, then glue it into place.
Cut the leather scrap into a rectangle and glue it down for a bodice—no worries if it’s crooked or ill-fiting; it will fit the style of our tp girl! Then go to town with decorations—earrings, chains, safety pins, black lipstick and nails—whatever suits your fancy.
Display with pride!
Crocheter, the Silent Majority
Although you may have heard the urban legend than crocheters outnumber knitters three to one, there isn’t much hard scientific data to back that up. Research does exist on crafter demographics in America, but there is a bit of a muddle between who is a crocheter and who is a knitter, and of course many of us are both. Don’t get me wrong—no one doubts that there are more crocheters than knitters; it’s just the order of magnitude by which we rule that is in question.
Which makes it a little strange to me that certain yarn stores are often not equal-opportunity places to buy fiber, but specifical
ly knitting stores. I had heard about this discrimination, and honestly questioned it a bit, but then I stopped in a few new-to-me LYSs and got a sample of what some of my sisters with hooks were talking about.
I guess I don’t identify myself as a crocheter when I enter a new store, or as a knitter, either, for that matter. I just tend to wander in and pet what I like, and I have never had anyone question my right to be there. But after hearing some horror stories about crochet-phobes in yarn shops, I tried an experiment. In one particularly well-known big-city store, the crochet books, most of which were several years old, were placed in a dusty rack by the ladies’ room. There were about three crochet hooks, buried at toddler-eye level under umpteen thousand styles of knitting needles. When I asked where the crochet items were, the store owner looked at me with a bemused expression, as if she was waiting for me to say I was just kidding or something. When I didn’t, she pretty much lost interest in waiting on me at all. Needless to say, I didn’t buy anything at that store, and I started to see that maybe my crocheting friends who cried discrimination had a valid point.
But guys, we outnumber the knitters. We really do. And there is strength in numbers. We just need to get a little organized about how to wield our power.
For one thing, we should not support shops that do not value our custom. Which isn’t to say we should be nasty, because that rarely gets anyone anywhere, but if you walk into a store and are treated rudely, walk right back out. Even if you will then have to make a trip somewhere else to get what you need. Make sure you tell them why you are leaving or your leaving doesn’t help change their behavior! If you are too shy (or shocked by the snark) to say something directly, drop the person’s superior a quick note or an e-mail after you get home. Something like:
Hooked for Life Page 8