Color(work)...

We've been having some dreary weather this week. It seems the start of the gray days of a Pittsburgh winter are quickly moving in, and that means I have to find my sunshine from places other than the sky. Enter the joy of colorful yarn and fiber! Yeay!

Having my yarn and fiber stash in plain view has been having the effect I hoped it would when I bought those cubbies a while back: it's encouraging me to use more of what I have since it's now easier to see what is at my disposal. (It is not, I regret to report, discouraging me from buying more to add to the stash. I'm not sure what might have that effect. :})

After spending several weeks spinning over a pound of gold and rust BFL for a test knitting project I'd agreed to do, I really started to crave some color! So this week, I pulled this out of a cubbie and started spinning it up:

I think I bought this at the Homespun Yarn Party in Maryland back in 2009. (ETA: Nope...just looked at the pictures of what I got there, and this fiber wasn't among them. Not in my Pittsburgh Knit & Crochet pictures or Maryland Sheep & Wool pictures either. Mystery! Hm. I'm not really sure where it came from now! LOL) I was pretty new to spinning at that time, and my main criteria for buying fiber was color. If the colors grabbed me, it was good. That said, I have no idea what kind of fiber this is, because the only tag on it was a handwritten job that said "5 oz." and the price. So...it is 5 ounces of some miscellaneous wool (or maybe a random wool blend) in the most yummy candy colors! (The picture isn't doing justice to the colors. I'll get a better one in non-dreary daylight soon.) It's not the nicest fiber I've ever worked with, nor is it the worst. It's not super soft, but it isn't uncomfortably scratchy, either. I'm guessing I'm going to end up with maybe 300 yards of a DK or light worsted weight two ply when I'm done. Stay tuned!

In addition to craving color on my wheel, I've enjoying a tiny fair isle project that I'm designing as a gift. These three sock yarns aren't overly bright -- they actually fall more into the autumnal color scheme I've worked with a lot the past couple months -- but it's the process of colorwork knitting that I'm finding myself enjoying more and more lately. I've gotten better at it, but it still offers a decent challenge to me, so that is good.

Cherry Tree Hill Supersock Select, Cabin Fever colorway; Sanguine Gryphon Bugga!, an unnamed brown colorway and Yellow Dung Fly.

I'll post a picture of my finished project after it's in the hands of its recipient.

In a non-fiber related topic, I've been keeping up with my 2,000 words per day NaNoWriMo goal so far! I'm not an advanced plotter, so I often have no idea where my story is going until I'm sitting down and watching it appear on the screen before me. This is a good, freeing way to write, but it also has, historically, caused me to back track and edit and change things as I go, which definitely bogs me down. This year, I've decided to take Anne Lamott's sentiment of a "shitty first draft" to heart and just not worry about it making too much sense. Thus, there is discontinuity galore. There some parts of the story written a couple different ways and I'll figure out later which way works best.

My ultimate goal for NaNoWriMo this time is to just write. This story may never see the light of day after NaNoWriMo is over, and for once, I'm OK with that! I realized this year that I think its been the expectation I've always put on myself to do more with my writing that just writing that has taken much of the joy out of it for me. Having been so immersed in writing communities for so long, where publication is at the forefront of everyone's minds, it's reasonable that that was where my mind was too. Now that I've been away from those communities for several years, I'm actually rediscovering the fun in the process again.

From socks to novels...

So, you already know that October was Socktoberfest, and I was big into the sock knitting. Not only did I finish a pair I'd started in September as well as started AND finished the Socktoberfest Mystery Sock pair all in the self-same month, but I also started a pair of Halloween Riffs, which I finished just under the wire on Sunday night:

Woolen Mill St. Yarns, Superwash Merino, "Jack the Pumpkin King" colorway.

Sadly, they ended up being a bit too big for me, mostly in the heel (which is not snug like a normal slipped stitch heel, as they zigzag pattern is worked on the heel itself as well). But, as it turns out, they fit Emma perfectly, so she got an "accidental" new pair of socks!

I not only finished the month with three pair of socks, but the kids threw a wonderful Halloween party Saturday night for a bunch of their friends. It was great. My kids' friends are a really nice bunch, and though it was L-O-U-D here for several hours, they had a terrific time! So did I, because I dressed up, too.

My punk rocker look. ;) (And, yo, the purple highlights in the hair? F'real. I got them the day before because I've always wanted purple highlights and I figured if not now, when? LOL I love them!)

And I made cookies! I think decorating cookies for Halloween may be even more fun than my usual Christmas cookies.

And so now we usher in November, going from manically knitting socks to manically writing words. It is National Novel Writing Month, after all. This is the fifth time I've given NaNoWriMo a try. The goal is to complete a 50,000 word rough draft of a novel in a month. I've succeeded twice before. We'll see how I fare this year. Emma is doing it again this year too, so we're encouraging each along. Happily, I report that as of the end of Day 2, we are both on track with our words per day goals. (I've got my little word count calendar up at the top of the blog there...you can follow along and see how I'm doing. As long as no red days show up, any other color means I'm doing well!)

In addition to writing, though, I'm going to be in full on gift knitting mode this month. I started a new pair of gift socks yesterday...

This is the Spring Wind pattern, by Laura Linneman. It's written for a sport weight yarn, which means it is going to be a fairly quick knit. I'm using Enchanted Knoll Farms sport weight in the "Red Dirt Girl" colorway.

I'm also working away at my hand spun test knit sweater. It's going well, except for the fact that it is being knit on US 10.5 needles, which feel like tree trunks in my hands. But it should go fairly quickly since it is such a large gauge. So far, I'm happy with how my handspun is looking. Still crossing my fingers and hoping I have enough to finish it!

I haven't had time to work on my Caldavos anymore, and the other pair of socks I have on the needles were supposed to be for Emma, but since she just got those Riffs, I told her she was going to wait a bit for the purple ones. I'm going to focus on Christmas knitting for now. I really need to make a list of what all I need to knit for gifts. I know what they all are in my head, but somehow seeing them on paper always works out better.

And just for fun, let me share some recent yarn-y goodness I've gotten...

Some limited edition Briar Rose Fibers 100% cashmere, colorway #101. Oh my...this is so, so soft and yummy. It is going to be something pretty for me as soon as I have time to knit for myself. Probably a cowl, I'm thinking.

And here is something fun...

...some Twisted Limone Spicy self-striping sock yarn in the Sizzle colorway. Laura and Leslie -- The Knitgirllls -- have turned me on to this yarn. It's become one of those hard-to-get yarns that a lot of people are stalking. I'm happy to have snagged this ball at all, and check it out...

...it comes all the way from the UK! How fun is that to get a delivery with a "Royal Mail" postage mark on it??

Looking ahead...

While I am still deep in the throes of Socktoberfest, I am looking ahead to November and have decided, after a two year hiatus, I am going to participate in NaNoWriMo again this year.

30 days.

50,000 words.

I've done it twice before.

2004 & 2006.

Can I do it again?

We shall see!

Anton Strout and thoughts on writing (mine, not his)...

On a recent bookstore jaunt, I found myself in the fantasy/sci fi section, waiting for Christopher to pick out a new Star Wars novel. A book on the end of the shelf where I was standing caught my eye. Dead to Me by Anton Strout. It was categorized as "urban fantasy," which is a sub-genre I hadn't actually heard of before, but the blurb on the back cover sounded intriguing, so I picked it up. (And paid for it. Really.)

I'm only about halfway through the book (not a commentary on the book, but on my limited reading time in the past few weeks...spinning has been taking up most of my free time), and I usually don't recommend books before I'm finished with them, nor authors I've not read before until I've finished one of their books, but I've got to give a shout out to this book and Mr. Strout. This book is so not what I was expecting...in a good way. Not so much the storyline itself, but the humor. I love the sense of humor with which Strout has endowed the characters. It was totally unexpected for me. Maybe it shouldn't have been, but it was.

I've been following Strout on Twitter lately, which is how I came upon the entry on his blog today that talks about something I know a lot of writers can relate to...the need to write around a day job. I've been fortunate to not have to juggle that in the traditional sense of a 9-5 job, but I distinctly recall from my freelancing days the struggle of balancing the SAHM thing, homeschooling my kids, and trying to make time to write. 

After a fairly lengthy hiatus (about six years...wow...), the desire to writing again has been growing in me. (Fiction, that is...beyond my blog, I have no immediate plans to revisit non-fiction, and the thought of returning to the freelance world makes me want to curl up in the fetal position and whimper.) 

So, what's holding me back? Well, aside from the usual writerly neuroses of little voices telling me I have nothing to write that anyone would ever want to publish, let alone read, I also hesitate because of the time factor. For me (and probably most writers, I'd guess), writing requires entering deeply into another world, and that isn't something that is always easy to do if you know you're not going to be able to stay for long. It would be like having 10 minutes to go to the beach and wanting to swim as far out into the ocean as you can, but knowing you won't have time enough to make it back to shore before the bus leaves.  

There are a lot of important priorities in my life right now. My kids and homeschooling remain at the top. My dedication to kickboxing has become integral to getting myself healthy, and I won't be giving that up. Knitting and spinning provides the sanity break I need here and there throughout my days. So I ask myself...where does writing fit into all of that? Can I make the time to do it justice between the other priorities in my life right now, or will it turned out to be a half-assed effort, or will something else suffer? I'm not sure yet. And I probably won't be sure until I dive in and give it a try. 

I know the bottom line answer, though...if writing is important enough to me, then I will make time for it. Simple as that. (Riiiiiight.)

New(ly found) blogger love...

I love finding new blogs that don't just entertain but make you think and feel and reflect on the important things of life, big and small. I found one such blog tonight...I Live on a Farm. Her current post is most poignant.

I am a(n)...?

When my kids were younger, one of the things they enjoyed doing was water painting. On nice days, I'd set them up outside with a bucket of water and some cheap, long-handled paint brushes, and they could paint and paint to their hearts' delight all over the sidewalk and the patio. The fact that their creations evaporated within minutes (or seconds, depending on if it was May or August) was part of the fun...it was like magic, and you instantly had a clean slate to work with.

After finishing NaNo early-early Sunday morning, and being in the midst of several holiday projects, I got into one of my reflect-about-my-life funks Sunday night. And so, as I was caught up in all kinds of thoughts, I walked out of my studio to do some laundry and as I did, the corner of my eye caught sight of one of those long-handled paint brushes the kids used so long ago. I picked it up, and with a jar of water, I commenced writing out my thoughts -- most in keyword form -- on the basement's concrete floor. The floor was warm, as the wood stove was burning not too far from where I was, so, just as the August sun did for my kids, so the stove did for my words...allowed them to be for a moment and then wiped them away for me to start again.

I only played at this for a few moments, feeling kind of silly yet enjoying the freedom to write whatever I wanted without any lasting effect. But it was good, cheap therapy because I found the same words kept dancing off the end of my brush...the words that answered the question I kept pondering that night: who am I?

I kept wondering, in the wake of NaNo, am I a writer? Really? I used to be, but am I still? I have nothing to show for it these days other than my blog, my journaling and a lot of unfinished fiction. Do I still qualify?

I kept wondering, amid the scads of stamps, inks, paints, papers, fibers, metals, adhesives and other supplies that surround me everyday, and with my cameras sitting nearby, am I an artist? Really? After all, I could be sitting in a roomful of surgical equipment and that would not make me a surgeon. However, I do enjoy creating -- immensely -- but I am so ready to take that to the next level, to do it with more intention and more purpose, but I am unsure about what that might be. So, does simply sitting here playing with this stuff really qualify me as an artist if I never get any further than I am now?

Honestly, most of the time I'm fine, fine, with myself as I am. These questions do not plague me day in and day out. It's just sometimes...because sometimes I wonder if I'm really living my purpose here in this world, or am I somehow missing the whole point?

Time now for a word from the spelling police...

Ok, let me preface this by saying a few things:

1. I am a writer and have always been above average in the areas of spelling and grammar, thus I cannot help but spot errors in the areas, no matter what I'm reading.

2. I do not believe that blogs or personal e-mail should be places where people have to be totally anal about how they write (unless they want to). They're an informal venue. I get that.

3. While I do try and keep my blog spelling and grammar error free, I admittedly make mistakes, either from being lazy or being in a hurry or whatever. Refer to #2 above.

Ok...now that I've got those disclaimers out of the way...what I want to address are a few pet peeves of mine in the area of spelling, specifically the homonymic trio of peak/peek/pique. I can't tell you how often I see the first two of these used one for the other, nor how often I see one of the first two used when it is really the third the person means to use. Actually, I rarely ever see the third used at all, even when it is the word that should be used.

Peak: What you find at the top of a mountain.
Example: The view was beautiful from the mountain peak.

Peek: What you do between your fingers while watching the scary part of a movie.
Example: I peeked around the tree as the bear chased my friend over the edge of the mountain peak.

Pique: What you do when you're trying to arouse someone's attention or interest.
Example: Perhaps my story has piqued your curiosity, and you will want to take a peek at the peak yourself.

Thus, one cannot "peek" someone's interest (unless they're looking unbidden at that person's bank statement). Nor can they "peak" someone's interest, unless they can figure out how to form it into a point. Alas, you must pique their interest, period.

And speaking of bears...the bear-bare homonyms come in second place for the being misued most often, in my opinion. Just know that you can watch a bear bare his teeth, if you have the nerve. However, do not tell me you cannot bare the sight of it, lest I start to imagine you wearing not a stitch on your bare bottom. Hm...that might even frighten the bears!

Back to our normally scheduled show....

Edited to add: In case anyone cares, there is also a fourth, similar word, piqué, which is defined as a tightly woven fabric with raised patterns, such as waffles or ribbing (think polo shirt collars). It's not truly a homonym to the other two, though, as it is pronounced pi-KAY (the "i" sounding like a long "e" -- "pee"). Just felt the need to be complete. :}

Shift in Focus

One of my favorite aspects of photography is how even the tiniest change in focus yields a completely different image. The subject may seem the same at first glance, but then you notice your eye is drawn to different things in the two pictures. The shift in focus becomes significant.

I've noticed such a shift in the focus of my life lately. I knew it was there, that it was happening, but until this week, as I spent time moving and rearranging and purging and organizing my office/studio, I hadn't really been forced to take such close notice of it. It's been alternatingly startling, saddening and freeing, sometimes all at once.

I am a writer by trade. No, you won't find a novel with my name on it at your local bookstore, but for several years, you might have found my name in the byline of various articles in various magazines. I wrote about summer camps for kids, pros and cons of different prepared childbirth philosophies, how to outfit a layette on a budget, how to choose a pet for your child...if it had to do with pregnancy, infants or parenting, I probably wrote about it. I also wrote about writing, and I wrote about faith, and I wrote about how those two can be intertwined. For nearly seven years, I wrote these articles as a freelance writer, and for the time I had to put into it, I enjoyed moderate success. I was good at it, and I enjoyed it, both things a plus when it comes to your job.

But then something happened. Some things happened. A series of unfortunate, frustrating, maddening events took place in my life. The kinds of events that, as they continue for weeks and months and on into years, they rob you of your energy and your drive and your ability to think. So I spent the energy I did have fighting life's fires and dealing with crisis after crisis, having less and less time and inclination to write. I quit looking for new work. I resigned from regular gigs I'd had. Except for the personal journaling I have done since I was eight years old and the blog I had during that time, I quit writing.

At the time, it was a relief. I'd felt tired, burned out. It felt good to not be writing for the first time in a long time, to not have deadlines zooming at me. And so it stayed for the next couple years. I'd think about it from time to time, knowing that if I wanted to, I could go back to it. Sure, it would be hard, almost like starting over in some respects, but the basic skills and love for the craft would still be there. It would always be an option. It just turned out to be an option I never seemed to take.

And so, as I've spent this week cleaning my work space, it came as a surprise to me that I was so easily relegating my writing books to the bottom shelf of the bookcase when they'd always held a place of prominence up at the top. My folders of published articles moved from the top to the bottom file drawer. And the novels? The ones you won't find in Barnes & Noble? They, in their dozen or so folders, moved to the file cabinet that is hidden away in the closet.

At one point during all this movement, I sat down on the floor and started leafing through the myriad pages at hand. I read. I smiled at the words on the pages. Even the fiction. With each folder's contents, I remembered the storylines and how they'd come to me, what was going on in my life when I started writing them, the endings I'd knew they'd each get to if I was able to complete them. And the yearning to finish them pulsed faintly inside of me, yet I knew I'd only be kidding myself if I was to put them on my desk and tell myself I was going to work on them again. My focus for them just isn't there. Same with the articles that whirl through my head. Old habits are hard to break, even if you've ignored them for a long time, because though it has been over two years since I've sent a query to an editor, article ideas still come to me. I catch myself mentally composing a pitch before I realize I'm not going to put it on paper. Not now, anyway. (That's not to say I wouldn't be tickled to have some layouts published, but to me, that's an entirely different ball of wax.)

From my spot on the floor, I looked around and saw what now was the center of my world...the paper and stamps and inks, the bits of metal and ribbon and buttons and beads, the tripods and cameras and photos that come from them. These things have taken over, both my room and my mind. And as much as it is in my nature to want to write articles about the things that I'm most focused on, for now I'm content not to do so. Not now. For now I'm content just to live these things...to take the photos and work with them and create with them...to use the paper and adhesives and embellishments rather than to write about the supplies. It really is such a different way of dealing with life for me. Being and doing rather than writing. But it's ok. Who knows what tomorrow or next week or next year will bring. But for now, it's really ok.