You’ve heard me talk a lot about knitting is like parenting. And it is, in many ways. But this week, as things spiraled of control in ways that only two-teen family can do, I learned new things about knitting. And uncovered new reasons why I love yarn and needles.Not much in this world works the way we’d like it to. One of the most frustrating things about not only parenting, but the publishing world, is that talent and effort don’t always bring results. Every one of us knows a fabulously parented kid who’s gone spectacularly wrong. Likewise, most of us can name someone who became an amazing adult despite every parental strike against them. Publishing is the same way. I know writers who have ten times my talent but only have a stack of rejection letters to show for it. I’ve read bestsellers with writing that...well, rots. And I’ve seen splendid books die a grisly death from poor sales.
Which is why I like knitting.
For the most part, you get from knitting what you put into it. When I use quality materials and pay attention, I get wonderful results. When things tangle, I can usually draw a straight line from that catastrophe to my lack of attention, or skimming directions, or fudging details (‘yes, Allie, there’s a reason this pattern calls for a size 19 needle, so don’t use a 17”). I’ve been paying attention to this project, and there’s a payoff. That’s so refreshing. Especially with the we’re-not-going-to-talk-about-this family drama going on this week.
I think that’s why knitting is so stress-relieving. It’s justice between the needles.
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