4 More Ways That Knitting Is Like Writing

bc obviously u didn't get enough the first time

1.  Surprise patterns

If you’re knitting with multiple colors, there will probably come a time where you mess up (it’s difficult to juggle multiple strings without a mistake or two), and sometimes it takes a while for you to figure it out.  Sometimes that results in surprise patterns, which can be surprisingly beautiful and make you decide to change the direction of your current project, or can be horrifyingly ugly and make you want to burn everything everywhere forever.

Writing a book is the same; in the course of writing your story, you’ll find things happening that you didn’t expect.  New plot complications will arrive, new side stories will unravel, new characters will reveal themselves from betwixt the luminous petaled asscheeks of a flower man; sometimes these little things will add up to make great new structures within your novel that you never expected and cherish all the more for it!  Other times it’ll take you down the windy road to tangent city, and you’ll need to take a bulldozer to the mountain pass.  

2.  You usually want a tight knit, sometimes tighter than others

When you knit a blanket or scarf or what-have-you, you want the knit to be tight, to keep the water or snow or just general elements out, to keep body-heat in, and to keep the thing from falling apart.  Sometimes the knit needs to be tighter than others, depending on what you’re making and for what kind of weather it was made for.  You wouldn’t want to be caught in a snowstorm with a summer t-shirt!  

Likewise, the weave of your story needs to be tight, to prevent plot from spilling out or characters being inappropriately exposed.  When you read a story, the flow should appear seamless, as if every last word is inextricable, and to remove a single one would be like removing a keystone from a jenga tower.  

Sometimes, depending on your genre and tone, the knit can be a little more breathable than others--to pull from television, no one asks why Bugs Bunny can pull a carrot from nowhere, or how Brian Griffin could possibly have a human son older than he is, because it’s just accepted that that’s how that world works; once the structure is set up, you can safely function within those parameters.

You also need to beware of going too tight, leaving yourself no leeway with which to make the next stitch.  You need to leave yourself room to breathe, or you’ll inevitably reach an impasse and have to go back.

3.  Pattern or no--everyone has a way to get the job done

Some people can only work with a pattern; some people absolutely CANNOT work with a pattern; and some people bounce between the two, or go half-and-half.  

But whether you start out with an outline, or just go by the seat of your pants, in knitting or writing, all that matters is that you get it done.  Whatever gets you there best, that’s the way you take the journey.  

4.  It may turn into something else, and that’s okay

Sometimes a scarf becomes a shirt; sometimes a dress becomes a blanket, or a blanket becomes a snuggie.

Sometimes you start out with a novel, and end up with a screenplay, or a podcast, or a musical, or a webcomic, or an experimental new artform that can’t quite be described.  

And that’s fine.  No, in fact, it’s better than fine, it’s GREAT!  Some of the best plot twists and turns come about organically, or else blindside you while you’re taking a nap, the same way that some of the best patterns you develop in your knitting could be the result of a screw-up; the failure of one project can be the success of another.

Follow new leads; let them take you where they want, and don’t be afraid to explore alternative routes.  Sometimes you need to take the mega super highway, but other times the scenic backroute, while longer, is just better.  Even if you do fall into a couple bear traps on the way.

Story or tapestry, you’ll be happy you took the risk.

4 Things I Learned Digitalizing My Notebooks

So last year, as I was preparing to go off to college 3,000 miles from home, I undertook an effort to digitalize my notebook collection so that, should I require my notes while at school, I wouldn't have to lug a metric fuckton of paper cross-country, or *sticks nose in the air, places steepled hand on chest* send for them.

This meant that I was exposed, in a four-month period, to aaaaaallllll the writing I had done (read: kept) since late middle school. Also pictures I drew, but I didn't learn all that much from that. Some things I did learn are as follows:

1. Write down your scene ideas wRITE THEM DOWN

In digitalizing my collected notebooks, I came to find that there were A LOT of places where I obviously knew where I was going with something, but because I knew where it was headed, I didn’t bother to write it down because why would I and let me tell you, should I have ever!  I have no idea now where SO many of my stories were headed, huge plot points, entire scenes, choice juicy dialogue, all disappeared from the earth forever because I thought I’d remember those ideas in perpetuity. Or at least until I got to that point in the story.

Make sure you take lots of copious, fully-detailed notes, kids, especially if you’re about to move onto the next WIP.  

2. Don’t just toss things--you'll need it as soon as you do

RELATED:  Don’t throw out old ideas or notes until you’ve at least procured (and backed up) a digital copy.  You never know what you might need later.  Even if you think it’s trash, keep those old notes and scene corpses and half-started stories; you might be able to revive, reuse, or repurpose those bits and pieces later, and the minute you toss something is the minute you’ll have an AMAZING IDEA that requires that you have those pieces.  It’s a pain in the ass.

3. Too many dialogue tags muck things up

Dialogue tags are those little things like “said” and “insisted” and “proclaimed,” the parts of language that let you know someone is talking and how they’re doing it.  Most young writers start out wanting to use TONS, because you always want the audience to know how your character is saying what they're saying--are they yelling this line?  Whispering this other one?  Growling hissing demanding commanding interrupting?
 

And dialogue tags are great!  …  In moderation.  But it doesn’t take long before dialogue tags reach a point of diminishing returns.  They get in the way, start gumming up the works, slowly leaching all the fun out of the work and reducing the novel’s pace to a snail’s crawl.  

Most of the time, guys, said will do.  Said and Asked are the meat and greens of the meal, and the rest of the dialogue tags are spices.  You can use as many saids and askeds as you want, and it’ll be fine. A few more diverse dialogue tags are nice to keep things interesting and variegated, but if you use too many you’ll over-spice the dish and it’ll become unpalatable.

A good rule of thumb:  If the audience can tell from context how a character is speaking, use “said” or “asked.”  If they can’t, stick a spicy spicy dialogue tag in there for some flavor.

4. Make sure things are HAPPENING

I came across MANY points in my re-reading where chapters go by and just NOTHING is happening--it’s all just DESCRIPTION, and not even that interesting.  It makes my soul die a little.  But it’s okay, because I learn from my mistakes usually probably maybe. This time at least. Hopefully.

Don’t go too long without letting something important occur--conversations, action sequences, a montage of family activities, make something happen sooner rather than later, or you’ll lose the audience.  The audience who may just be future you, quietly shaking her head at present you's sad, boring tomfoolery.  

*waves nervously at future me*

Cup-Stacking

     Last month, as a final for gym, I had to take a skill test.  I had my choice of hacky-sack, juggling, or cup-stacking.  Since I have no idea how the hell you keep a hacky-sack suspended in the air and I don't always have control over my limbs, I of course chose cup-stacking.

     It took me a while to figure out how best to approach the challenge--to get full credit, I had to stack and unstack a three-six-three pyramid formation in under eight seconds.  It was harder than it looked.  I listened to music to help mellow me out a little, and I discovered a marvelous thing; when I let the music carry me, when I followed the cups with my body, I timed a lot better.  It became--dare I say it?--easy.  Simple.  Fun.

     I let my body flow--with the music, with the cups, with my hands--and the fluidity with which it was done brought on improved results.  In writing, the experience isn't much different.

     If you try to force yourself to write without bowing to the word--if you stand stock still and refuse to let your work breathe, you won't succeed.  You need to be willing to experiment with your work, to let things happen as they will, to open your mind to what occurs beyond what you've planned.  Whether you plot your novels or not, you'll find that when you open yourself, when the prose flows through you, the cups will seem to stack themselves, and seconds, minutes, hours, years--they will simultaneously stand still beneath your pen, and fly past you in a sudden rush of inspiration.

     A tree bends in the wind to keep from snapping; to keep your words alive, you'd do well to do the same.