Sometimes you just don’t get the gig.
Today I’m extremely delighted to be able to feature a guest post from the one and only Abby Franquemont. (Yes, THAT Abby Franquemont. Can you hear our fan-girl squeals from all over the world?). We thought this was a super timely post considering we just decided on PLY Away teachers and subsequently had to send out over 40 “We’re so sorry…” emails to fantastic spinners and teachers from all over the world. It was tough. I mean, it’s super hard to say no to great people anyway but when you couple that with a I-wanna-please-everyone personality, it’s rough. Abby’s words helped me understand that people do understand. Maybe they’ll help you with something too. And for all those teachers that won’t be teaching at PLY Away this year, you totally could be! – Jacey
Now here’s Abby!
I’ve been a pro fiber artist for ten years and it’s time to talk about something tough.
When I first left my career in tech to be a full-time fiber professional, I wasn’t sure I wanted to teach classes. In fact, “but I’d have to teach” had been something I said for years to talk myself out of making the leap into self-employment in the fiber sphere. I knew I would have to, but I didn’t think I’d enjoy it.
It wasn’t so much the teaching itself that worried me, as everything that surrounds it. I was confident I could get in a classroom and present the information people needed. I wasn’t sure about the emotional load. You see, I had watched my father teach on this same circuit, and had even assisted with some of his workshops. And before that, those workshops were taught by my father and my mother. And she quit doing it — not because she wasn’t great at it, but because she hated the emotional space it put her in.
One day my friend Beth called me up. She ran a fiber shop in Michigan, and she wanted me to come teach something. I tried to talk her out of that, but she was pretty insistent and so before too long, there I was, and it went fine. I had friends and colleagues and people who’d known my father, all over the place, telling me I just had to teach — submit a proposal here, talk to that person over there, and so on. So I started doing that, and lo and behold, I started getting tons of work teaching. It quickly became the core thing I did for work, pushing into the time I’d allotted for production or writing and taking over almost completely.
I thought I had it nailed, man. I really did. Invitations to teach, or submit proposals, were rolling in fast and furious and I was turning down work because I couldn’t fit it into my schedule. I was proposing to the big name festivals and events and my proposals were being accepted. My articles were being accepted all over the place. I proposed a book, and while my first proposal was not accepted, my second one was. So I figured I’d made it — that I had arrived at a point where now, all I had to do was keep doing the job.
That’s how it was, for a couple of years. What I didn’t really understand was that there is no such point. I should have; it was what my parents had experienced, and it was true for musicians when I worked as a road manager for a veteran artist and performer. Yes, sometimes there’s a hot year or a hot season, like right after you release some new piece of work and everyone wants a little bit of that. But that’s all it is: a hot time, and a good run.
For two years running, I was accepted to teach at a major event. It was one where my father had taught, and one where I’d been well-received, where my classes had filled early and fully, where students stayed engaged when they went home and were e-mailing me about their successes and all kinds of things, and which was run by the folks who had just published my book. So the third year I proposed, I figured I was a shoo-in. The weekend when everyone expected to hear yes or no, I went up to my friend Beth’s shop to take a class from our mutual friend — a longstanding teacher who had mentored me, encouraged me, and pushed me plenty. She had welcomed me to the grownup table, so to speak.
“Well?” she asked when I got there, “Have you heard?” I hadn’t. Her face fell, as did mine, I’m sure. We knew the deal: if she, and a few other friends, had heard, and I hadn’t, it meant I wasn’t picked that year.
Here’s the other thing about the world of fiber arts instructors: it’s tiny. I mean it’s really, really tiny. And over time, you end up friends with lots of your colleagues. I mean real friends, not just acquaintances — the kind of friends where you know each other’s extended families and there’s a chance you’ve shared a queen bed at a B&B. Over even more time, you end up that kind of friends with not only your colleagues, but other long-timers who are vendors, event planners, farmers, editors of magazines, equipment makers, you name it. The fiber arts community really is different from many other niche communities. With pun intended, I’m afraid, it really is that tightly knit.
I was devastated not to get that gig. I was mortified not to have been good enough. I rehashed every single thing I had ever done wrong, every possible misstep I’d made, and — as is my natural tendency — turned that into the club with which I beat myself up for not being good enough. Privately, and to my closest friends, I cried. I raged. I feared. I took it all personally. I rationalized why it was not. I worried what it would mean. I feared what everyone would think. The whole world would know I hadn’t been good enough. Nobody would want me for anything anymore because they would all know I hadn’t been good enough. Everyone would ask me why I wasn’t good enough and I wouldn’t know what to say.
Well, time passed. And probably there was nothing but time passing that could have shown me concretely that what my mentors and friends had always said was the simple truth: sometimes you just don’t get the gig.
That’s hard. It’s hard to explain it to people who don’t do this crazy thing for a living, too. Every proposal is like a job application and interview. What’s more, all your friends are going for the same job. Everyone can’t get every job. No matter how much we all wish there were a way that could be, there just isn’t one. So it’s this emotional roller coaster, all the time. If I teach at 6 events in a year, that’s 6 times I applied and got the job; there are always at least as many — usually more — times where I applied and didn’t get the gig.
I’m not going to talk right now about how it feels when you do get the gig, and you know you have to step up to the plate and do it. I’m just going to share a few things I do to deal with the emotional load of not getting the gig.
- When I apply, I try to assume I won’t get it. This means I don’t experience the deep lows on the emotional roller coaster when I’m not selected, and if I’m selected, it’s a pleasant surprise and it never becomes routine.
- When I don’t hear back and someone else has, I try to wait a week before assuming it means anything at all for me. There have been times when I didn’t get the gig, went through the emotional turmoil and self-loathing over it, and then… got the gig after all.
- I try hard to cheer for my friends as hard as I cheer for myself. Sometimes I don’t nail that and I totally am jealous or hurt. The times when I’ve been able to applaud someone else for their success are the times when the hurt goes away the fastest.
- I go back and look at what classes do end up getting announced. 9 times out of 10, there are reasons those classes beat mine. Sometimes they’re a better fit for the specific audience or theme. Sometimes they’re fresh and new and mine are a little bit stale. Sometimes the teacher is just whoever is the new star on the scene or has the newest hot album out, if you will. Sometimes my pricing wasn’t a fit. Sometimes someone else’s proposal was a better fit for reasons beyond anybody’s control. But where I can find reasons someone else’s pitch edged mine out, it gives me something concrete to do with my feelings of disappointment: work on improving my own proposals. And this helps me remember it’s not about the person, so much as it is about what we’re all out here trying to do: teach people stuff about yarn.
- Admit I’m bummed out. There have been times when my close friends have gotten gigs I didn’t, and they’ve been super excited about it. Sometimes, that’s been tense and uncomfortable. The times when we’ve been able to move past that the fastest have been the ones where I’ve been able to say “I’m bummed I didn’t get the gig.” What’s hard is that sometimes the only people who really understand are my colleagues, who also did, or didn’t, get the same gig themselves.
- Don’t detach. Except for detaching as far as I have to. I know, this sounds internally conflicted, but I mean it. I try to detach far enough to remember it’s not personal, but no more than that. It’s the emotional investment that makes something worth doing. If I detach too far, then it might as well be working a temp job as a typist. In which case, that’s probably a better career choice for me right then because it pays more and the position is more secure.
“Fiber Arts Teacher” is the hardest job I’ve ever done, and a lot of that is because of the emotional roller coaster. But I’d have to say it’s also the most rewarding, and the one where I’ve grown the most as a human being from doing it. And a lot of that comes from the fact that even for me, a well-known teacher with an international following, I still only get the gig about one time in four. Which is about where my father was when he was a big name. It’s where we all are, here at the grownup table.
So don’t take a rejection from one gig as a rejection of your place as a teacher sitting at the grownup table. It doesn’t mean that. It really only means one thing:
Sometimes, you just don’t get the gig. And dealing with that is part of the job, whether this is the first time you’ve proposed something, or the thousandth. Don’t let it get you down. It may be the first time, but it won’t be the last — unless you stop proposing. And don’t do that. Because we really need all the fiber teachers we can get. The more there are, the more seats we need at the table, and that is the way we all win in the long run.
Hand Prepping the Itch – All the Mistakes
I am not a very patient person. I think that’s one of the reasons why I’ve shied away from hand prepping fiber. But now that I want to learn to hand prep I have to slow down and be patient. I knew that somewhere along the way it was going to be a struggle, and I just found the spot. I enjoyed washing the Bond fleece, didn’t mind the mess or all of the water; I loved the smell. It went pretty quickly, or seemed to because I could do other things in between washing and rinsing.
Not so open and opened. Guess which carded easier?
I assumed I would put the Bond fleece on my drum carder and zip, zip I would have lovely fluffy batts to spin. Not exactly. I made a bunch of errors, all because I rushed. First, I didn’t open up the fiber enough before I ran it through the carder and I got neps, lots of little tangled fibers. After sighing like a teenager denied car keys, I spent more time teasing open the fiber and applying it in thinner layers to the drum carder. There were fewer neps, but there were still neps. More sighing and maybe I stomped my foot. I will shamefully tell you that I tried both original carding techniques multiple times before admitting that they didn’t work.
Neps, gross!
I sat; I hated on hand prepping; I thought about what causes neps. Neps can happen when a fine, crimpy fiber is treated poorly. If it gets stretched too far, too fast, some of the fibers spring back and wrap around themselves forming neps. I had been operating this prepping expedition with the idea that Bond is like Corriedale. It is, but it isn’t. I went back and looked at my fiber. I pulled out a bit, I held it up to the light, I twanged it and watched it spring back. Then I petted it and apologized. It was finer and more crimpy than Corriedale that I would zip through my drum carder. I dug out my hand cards.
Not so many neps with the hand carding.
Hand carding made the Bond much happier, but really tested my patience. It takes a long time! Granted I don’t practice much, so my technique is, well, saying it’s wonky wouldn’t be too far off. But I am going to persevere and hand card the rest of the Bond. I suspect by the end of these couple of pounds of fiber I won’t be eye-rolling and head shaking anymore, but just enjoying the ride.
Save
Save
Spindles – They are for everybody
I’m primarily a wheel spinner. Actually it’s been that way since I learned to spin. I love my wheels. I love how they look. I love how I imagine I look when I’m using them (don’t laugh). Many of the classes I teach are wheel focused classes.
But I like spindles too. I have plenty of them. Don’t ask how many. It’s not important.
When I learned to spin I began on a spindle but it was slow going and I was convinced that my lack of progress was because of the tool I was using and I needed a wheel. So I bought myself a used Ashford Traditional. Needless to say, the tool was not my problem. But that’s another story. Anyway, I took some lessons and got to be decent on the wheel. When I was satisfied that I was learning and improving I picked up the spindle again and magically I could do it! From then on I was a fan.
Let me tell you why I think you should like spindles too – beyond the fact that they can be beautiful.
For the last couple of years I have been immersed in a couple of projects that needed a wheel to complete so I hadn’t picked up a spindle in a while. Then, last month I was teaching at the Palouse Fiber Festival in Moscow, Idaho and I was there with my friend Esther Rodgers who was also teaching. Esther had been told several times by Abby Franquemont that her arm problems when she used a spindle were because she was using a spindle that we lovingly refer to as a boat anchor. What that means is that is was too heavy. I was able to drag Esther to the table of Greensleeves Spindles. I own at least 10 of their spindles myself and I know that they are super good spindles. Well, Esther began to spin 
and try some out and she chose one to buy. Well, she didn’t stop spinning on that spindle for the whole weekend and I think she’s still spinning with it! I also think she may have visited the Jenkins table and bought a second one before we left Idaho.
So I was inspired and last week we were headed to Greenfield Village in Dearborn, Michigan just to spend the day with all of our kids and grandkids and on the way out the door I grabbed a spindle and an illusive Abby Batt to work on while we walked around. I got pretty much done in the midst of semi chaos. and I began to think about what I learned from spinning on a spindle. all of the things I’ve learned translate to wheel spinning and make me a better overall spinner.
I learned to better handle live singles. I rarely have tangles. I learned this by butterflying the yarn onto one hand to raise the spindle rather than reaching for the spindle when it is hanging by a super long thread. If you are unsure what I mean by butterflying the yarn you can see it here at around the 5 minute mark. (yes, that’s me a few years ago.)
I learned that sometimes it’s better to take some time with a project rather than always trying to be in production mode. Please don’t mistake me, spinners all over the world spin pounds and pounds of yarn using only spindles but I am not as practiced at it as they are since my focus has been a different tool. I am thoroughly convinced if I made yarn exclusively on a spindle and carried one with me all of the time I would be able to do it too. but since that isn’t the case, I like to use a spindle for special fibers that I only ahve a little of so that I can savor the experience.
I learned (again) that the right tool for the job is often key to getting the results that I want. spindles can add twist extremely quickly and with very little tension on the yanr being made so they are perfect for spinning super fine/gossamer type yarns that spinning wheels may not be as good at.
I’m sure there is more that I’ve learned but it’s all in my hands and not in my brain right now.
Do you spin on a spindle? What have spindles taught you?
What’s inside the Bulky issue?
The Summer 2016 “Bulky” issue is busy making its way to various destinations around the world. Whether you’re a subscriber waiting for your copy to arrive, or you’ve been thinking of subscribing and you’d like a preview before you buy, today’s post is here to give you a sneak peek inside the issue!
—————————————————————————————————
We hear from a lot of spinners that you started out spinning bulky by default – so many of us did, because that was the easiest thing to spin! Eventually, many of us go on to try to mimic commercial yarns, or to spin a fine lace-weight, and we leave our lumpy, bumpy, bulky experiments in the past. If you’ve been living under the assumption that now that you’ve learned to spin finer yarns, you can’t go back to bulky – we’re here to dispel that myth. Let’s get inspired to spin some bulky yarns! Here’s a peek into our issue devoted to these bulky beauties…
Great Articles!
We’ve rounded up the a talented group of spinners and asked them to share their insights and experiments with us, and as always we’ve got a tip jar full of helpful hints from our readers, new information on the spinning SCENE, and how to keep your spinning body happy by Carson Demers! Take a look at what you’ll get:
- Bulky, by Stephenie Gaustad – Stephenie gives an introduction to this big, beautiful yarn.
- Making the Leap Back to Bulky, by Vickie Hauff – If you went lace and never looked back, join Vickie on an exploration of her spinning roots, and a return to spinning thicker yarns.
- Big Crimpin’: Sneaky, Surprising Cormo, by Beth Smith – In this month’s breed study, Beth takes us through the buttery soft crimp of Cormo.
- The Long and Short of Bulky Yarns, by Deb Robson – Deb explains how fiber length makes a big impact on the ability of a bulky yarn to hold up to wear and tear over time.
- Drafting Thicker, by Jacey Boggs Faulkner – If you’ve been drafting out fine yarns, it will be a challenge to start drafting thicker amounts. In this article Jacey walks you through the process to help you spin a bulky yarn.
- The Truth about Take-Up, by Michelle Boyd – Adding more take-up to your wheel (tightening the tension) is a generally accepted way of drafting a bulkier yarn – if the fibers feed into the orifice faster, you’re more likely to get a bulkier bundle in there, right? Well, only to a point. Michelle explains the details for you in her article, including a discussion of different wheel types and how take-up affects the grist of your yarn.
- Behind the Curtain: SpinOlution, by Ashley Martineau – The SpinOlution wheels are friends to bulky spinners, mainly due to that open orifice and the big bobbins. Ashley takes you on a sneak-peek tour of the SpinOlution company, including an interview with Mike Pauly, the owner.
- Prep It! Pre-Drafting with a Diz, by Sylvia Becker – If you have problems drafting properly for a bulky, worsted single, then this article is for you! Sylvia explains how she uses a horn diz in her prep stages to get the yarn she’s after.
- Spin It! Bulky Singles, by Kim McKenna – Kim walks you through fiber choices, prep, spinning, and finishing to create a smooth, bulky singles yarn.
- Spin It! Thick and Thin, by Jacey Boggs Faulkner – We’re going back to (most of) our roots and spinning a thick and thin yarn – but this time, with intention rather than just beginner’s fumblings. This art yarn creates a contrast in texture and is gorgeous on its own or knitted into a project.
- Spin Thick vs. Ply Up, by James Perry – There are two very simple ways to get a bulky yarn: spin thick singles in the first place, or ply several finer singles together. In this article, James takes us through the differences and the resulting yarns and swatches they create.
- Fat Color, by Jillian Moreno – Have you ever noticed how spinning a bulky yarn seems to make the fiber colors lighter than spinning a thinner yarn from the same fiber? Jillian explains how light, twist, and the surface texture of the yarn affect the overall color of the finished project, with plenty of colorful examples.
- Spin It! Lightweight Bulky, by Esther Rodgers – If you’re not overly enthusiastic about the idea of spinning up some heavy yarns just in time for the heat of summer, worry no more! Esther shows you how to reduce the weight of a yarn and still give it bulk.
- Build! Get Bulky from Your Comfort Zone, by Sylvia Becker – Start in your comfort zone and spin a fine single – and then several more. In this article, Sylvia will show you how to build a Lazy Kate that will hold 8 bobbins or use separate Lazy Kates to combine several bobbins full of singles at one time. She also includes the use of a home-made heck to keep those singles tamed.
- Spin It! Bulky, by Bren Boone – Bren shows you how to develop the muscle memory needed to teach your hands to spin bulky yarns.
- The Bulkiest Yarn, by Esther Rodgers – In 2011, Lexi Boeger actually spun a bulky yarn using a cement mixer instead of a spinning wheel. In this interview article, Esther gets her to tell the story.
- Spin It! Lumberjack Yarn, by Amy Tyler – In a twist on the classic cable yarn, Amy explains how she uses a lower twist in the original singles to make a “lumberjack” cable yarn that is soft and elastic.
- Bulky Yarns for Knitting Sketches, by Stephenie Gaustad – In this illustrated article, Stephenie talks about how great it can be to use bulky yarns for a knitting design, because the work goes quickly so you can see the results of your labor sooner.
- Spin It! Monster Satchel Yarns, by Christopher Kale – Christopher uses his sample yarns and puts them to good work! In this article he explains how to spin them, whether for a practical reason or just-because.
Fantastic Projects
In every issue of PLY, you’ll find a handful of projects for knitting, weaving, crocheting and more – along with instructions for how to best spin the yarns you’ll use in those projects. Here are the projects from the Summer issue:
- Sodalite Cowl, by Kim McKenna – Even though this project was made with a singles yarn, the resulting stitches don’t skew, thanks to the finishing technique described in Kim’s other article.
- Coincide Cowl, by Brittany Wilson – A fabulous and fashionable accessory, perfect for using those thick and thin singles!
- Shappo Hat, by Julia Farwell-Clay – Featuring a cabled sideways brim and a lace stitch pattern, this bulky hat is a fast and fun knit.
- Monster Satchel, by Christopher Kale – Put those sample-sized yarns to good use in this monster of an accessory!
Everything Else!
Tip Jar will help you spin a bulky yarn with consistent diameter. In Ergo Neo, Carson explains that your body actually tenses up when you step outside your spinning default, so he shows us ways to counteract that problem. In Guilded! we meet the spinners of the Etobicoke Handweavers and Spinners Guild and learn about their 50-mile coat project. Scene is full of things on the spinning scene that you’ll want to know about including a Guatemalan weaving tour and a great new Craftsy class. Beth Smith offers a variety of pattern suggestions to get you to Use Your Yarn, maximizing the smaller yardage and bigger weight. And finally, if you missed the PLY Away retreat this year, we’ve got a round-up for you in this issue!
If you haven’t subscribed yet, you can do that right here on our website! And be sure to pick up a copy of this issue if you don’t already have one (or it isn’t on its way to you)!
Wanna try spinning cotton? (We’re giving it away!)
Our Beautiful Cotton issue has been in subscribers’ hands and store shelves for a few months now, and we’d love to know what you think! Are you a seasoned spinner of the fiber of our lives, or a novice? Did this issue teach you something you didn’t know before, or encourage you to try something new? Did you find it mind-numblingly gorgeous? Have you worked through any of the projects, or spun a new yarn inspired by the information in the articles?
We love hearing what the spinners of the world think about each issue! It also helps us entice new readers to pick up a copy of PLY. So we’d really love it if you would click here and leave a review for the Cotton issue of PLY! (Just scroll down to the product description and click on the “Reviews” tab to enter your thoughts.) As a thank you, we’re going to give away some fabulous cotton fiber! This cotton was actually sent to us by one of our readers, who is sharing her personal cotton harvest with a lucky winner (THANK YOU!). Isn’t it fabulous? It’s super clean, and so much – there is about 1 lb of it!
We’ll pick a winner at random from the cotton issue reviews on this page on June 15, and contact you to send out your cotton! Remember, don’t leave your review of the issue here, leave it on the issue page, here! Thanks so much, as always, for your support.
Would you like to teach at PLY Away 2017?
PLY Away 2016 was a resounding success and we’re already hard at work planning 2017 and 2018!
PLY Away: The Student Perspective
Today we are so lucky to be visited by Devin Helmen, who won the scholarship to attend PLY Away 2016! If you weren’t able to attend but you wondered what all the fuss was about, keep reading as Devin shares his experiences from PLY Away!
I literally could not believe it for a few moments when I got the notification that I had been awarded the scholarship to the inaugural PLY Away. I was full of anticipation and eagerness and had no idea what to expect. I am glad I came into the actual experience without solid expectations, because nothing could have prepared me for the amazing time I had. Imagine almost three hundred people all sharing the same passion, all excited, and all ready to enjoy themselves. Sounds awesome, right? The reality was a million times better.
From the moment I came up to the registration tables, everyone was uniformly kind, helpful, and excited! I received my packet of information with helpful name tag, schedule, banquet pass, and booklet along with an amazingly generous swag bag filled with samples from vendors. Spinners had already taken over the lobby and were spinning on wheels and spindles, knitting, chatting, and sipping beverages. Everyone had grins on their faces, and I am sure they matched mine.
I have learned to spin in mostly isolation, and have not been exposed to the wonderful atmosphere that can come about with the concentration of fiber folk in one area. I saw many new techniques, new tools, new patterns, and everyone was happy to talk about them, to show the pattern, to teach the new technique. This was the biggest surprise, and the most exciting thing, for me: the learning continues outside of classes.
The classes I took were wonderful, and I was lucky to have the chance to learn from Deb Robson, Abby Franquemont, and Stephanie Gaustad. I had so much fun discovering the intricacies of Shetlands and Leicesters, how to MacGuyver a sparkly toy baton into a spindle with a paperclip and some ingenuity, and exploring the uses and history of both distaves and flax. As mind-blowing as these classes were, it was equally mind-blowing to see teachers in their element, and to have the example of how to teach.
The spin-in was a tremendous gathering, a large ballroom filled with people spinning and chatting and exchanging knowledge and information. I saw many exchanges of information, many offers to try new tools and fibers. Teaching and transmitting information seems to be innate in a gathering like this. Living immersed in fiber and textiles for days at a time made for a far different experience than taking a class and then going home. The buzz, the conversations, the practicing of new techniques continued well after classes.
It is my goal to become a spinning and textile teacher. It is such an important part of our civilization and such a fundamental skill. I watched closely how teachers responded to questions, demonstrated, and taught and I am glad to have such people to use as models for when I teach. PLY Away brought together a group of passionate and talented people whose excitement and knowledge (and thirst for more knowledge) made it a life-changing experience for me. I came away from it with a complete dedication to doing what I can to continue and expand this community, to preserving and passing down the fiber and textile knowledge which underpins civilization, and to doing what I can to pay back and pay forward the generosity of material, knowledge, and spirit I encountered. I am happy to say that I will be able to make a start this fall, when I will be teaching my first beginning spinning classes.
I want to thank Jacey and Levi, all the wonderful and dedicated people at PLY, the teachers and participants at PLY Away, and all the generous people who donated to the scholarship which made it possible for me to attend.
Cubicle Monkey by day, Fiber Fanatic by night, Devin Helmen has been feeding his fiber obsession since he taught himself to spin at age 8. He spins, knits, and is learning to weave in beautiful Minnesota. He has a passion for spindles and everyday textiles and blogs, intermittently, at www.afewgreenfigs.blogspot.com.
Be like a Sneaker Ad
Today we’re delighted to have guest blogger Beth Vincelette visit us to discuss her story of learning to spin. We think many of you will be nodding your heads as you read, recognizing your own experiences in Beth’s account.
On a good day, when the planets are properly aligned and the volcanoes have all been appeased with the appropriate amount of virgins thrown into their molten maws, I am a truly mediocre spinner. For years (far more than I am willing to admit, given my level of mediocrity), I have taken classes, attended guild meetings, sent emails to teachers with questions, acquired and read books on spinning. I thought I should be far, far better at this than I am. Then I realized that after I came home from the classes and meetings, after I put the books aside, I was not spinning. I was not making room in my life to practice what I had spent all that time and money to learn. I was afraid of ruining the beautiful fibers I bought at festivals or online and then being disappointed with the results of my supposedly new-found skills. I did not want to end up with another skein of yarn that would just suck. So I avoided the disappointment all together.
It does not take a genius to see the flaw in this plan.
Then, the other day, I came across a snippet of an interview with Ira Glass, host of “This American Life” on public radio. What he had to say about the creative process has since changed everything for me. In essence, he was brutally frank about the fact that beginners in any creative effort are invariably bad at what they are doing. There’s no way around it. You’re new. First attempts at anything are usually going to be terrible. And that’s OK. You need the failures to add up to a body of embarrassingly bad early work in order to progress.
This, although clearly obvious, was still a revelation to me. I felt liberated from the idea that all the classes and guild meetings would somehow automatically turn me into a better spinner. Only one thing was going to make me a better spinner, and that was a LOT of bad spinning.
So I have decided to embrace the suck. I don’t mean the kind of embrace that is a slight pat on the back you give that weird cousin who you really don’t want to spend time with at Christmas, I mean a full-on rib-cracking bear hug with sloppy wet kisses kind of embrace. And it has already paid off enormously.
For one, I finally got around to starting my notebook of yarn samples. I have had the supplies for months, but never got around to putting it all together. Right now it sucks, too, but it’s a start. It will get better as I do.
See that little orange sticky note? I’m not sure if you can read it, but it says, “I no longer remember what this is or how it was prepped.” Infinitely useless information, I’m sure, but it’s going in the book. I know this was spun in 2016, and I know its 100% wool of some breed or other. This little sticky note told me that not only do I need to keep more specific records of my work, but that that each sample was spun using a different pulley on my wheel. This makes that note worth saving. My goal for this binder, aside from keeping records of what I have done in the past, is to use it to get inspiration and specific information on fiber prep, drafting, and wheel set-up so I can make better plans for future projects.
Next, I pulled out (one bin of) my spinning stash, and went through it, and tried to decide what would be next to go on the wheel. I found all kinds of lovely things that I bought when I was dreaming of being a much, much better spinner. I used to call that fiber “Aspirational Yarn” since it was yarn I aspired to making. All those gorgeous, slippery, short-stapled luxury fibers that have been waiting to see the light of day for far too long: the cashgora, the pygora, camel and yak. The silk caps and super slippery alpaca. The kid mohair locks.
I found a bobbin in a box somewhere with a few yards of camel singles on it from the camel top in the stash bin. They were really, really crappy singles. So I threw that bobbin on the wheel and finished spinning an ounce of camel down using a medium pulley and supported long draw. The single that resulted was certainly acceptable. It’s not great, but it isn’t nearly as bad as my first attempt. I have two more ounces to go, and the next ounce I’m going to try spinning it from the fold, just to see what happens. The third ounce is waiting for inspiration to strike.
Next up was a beautiful braid of BFL roving dyed in red, greens and blues. To me it looked like a pair of socks fit for a Christmas elf just waiting to be made. I divided the roving lengthwise into six strips and spun a fine worsted single using two strips for each bobbin to make a 3-ply sock yarn. I am hoping the colors will mostly line up, but if they don’t I am not going to lose any sleep over it. The socks will be the first made from my handspun, which will make them special by definition. I don’t care if they suck. They will be the record of my effort and, if they turn out really bad, I know that eventually I will be able to make a better pair.
After the socks, I plan on tackling an alpaca blend with one of my spindles; a project which was started years ago. Now THAT is some really sucky yarn… for now.
So, in the end, my message is this: Just Do It. Start spinning and keep at it. Jump right in be liberated from the fear of failure. Be confident that you will produce lousy yarn. Failure is your friend; learn from it and move on. Embrace the Suck.
Beth is a knitter, spinner & former martial artist who lives in Connecticut with her two boys and a fuzz-eating cat. Her much-neglected blog can be found at www.knitkick.blogspot.com.
