This Time Last Year

This time last year, I had a lot of fear. I had an obsession with COVID numbers, and an unhealthy habit of checking them every night before bed. I had a lot of new plants in my yard that I was trying to make into an oasis for us. I had cancelled a lot of travel plans but still had trips scheduled for the fall. I had a lot of gratitude that my sons were home safe with us, and of an age where they could study from home without our assistance. I had a tech-industry marketing job that remained, as it had always been, work-from-home. I had a convention to launch on Zoom for a nonprofit organization I volunteered with. I had a lot of Zoom social meetings each week to help me stay in touch with my nearby friends and faraway family. I had time to come to grips with the idea that it might be longer than I thought before I saw any of them in person.

This time last year I didn’t have a knitting career — I had a knitting hobby. I had no one to teach since all the schools, community centers, and yarn shops were shut. I had a lot of yarn, and a lot of plans for that yarn that mostly involved completely rewriting other people’s patterns into things that suited or pleased me better. I had a few ideas for designs I might someday write up, and a lot of things I’d designed for myself as I went along but never written down.

This time last year, I had a great time at the first virtual Vogue Knitting Live, and I had interesting experiences watching teachers transition to teaching knitting online. I began to have ideas.

I loved and missed teaching knitting … I had a lot of experience on Zoom through my work and volunteer roles … and I was starting to see promos for other festivals that were looking for knitting teachers. I had a slate of things I’d taught in person and a pretty good idea of how to translate those into classes that would be digestible in an online format.

What I didn’t have was an audience, or a blog, or an Instagram presence. I didn’t have a name in the knitting world, or published designs.

What I did have was a lot of interest in exploring how to make knitting my next career, and the willingness to try all the things that might get me there. For a year, I told myself, I’d give it my best shot. I’d put substantial time into developing the necessary framework of website, online shop, lights and cameras, electronic handouts, a logo and online presence and all the other things that are required to do this thing seriously. I’d take photos and start writing down my patterns. I’d start blogging, I’d start applying to national shows, I’d submit design proposals, I’d work up the courage to ask for help with the parts of it I didn’t understand. I’d say yes to everything once.

It’s been a tremendous ride so far. It’s been exhilarating and exhausting, and although I’m currently only working my tech job half time, I’m working more than full-time hours on my knitting career, leaving little time for much else in my life. I very quickly met and made friends in the knitting industry, people who are lovely and fun and who were willing to help and support me on my journey. I found that I had a lot to offer in return; not just my knitting experience but my experience as a marketing professional, editor, and volunteer event organizer.

Every time I had a fun new idea, there were knitting people willing to jump on board with me, from providing yarn for my first designs to appearing on my video podcast to co-hosting Pajama Parties at Fiberworld and Rhinebeck. There were lots of people in the knitting world who said “yes” to me, and others who invited me into their spaces — their podcasts and events and programs.

And there were all of you who took classes with me, who bought and knit my patterns (and liked them!), who read this blog or followed me on social media, who’ve let me know what you like and what you want more of. You’ve encouraged me to host Zoom classes on my own, to self-publish patterns, to keep tapping into my creativity and inventing and trying new things.

A year on, I’ve got a number of patterns in the publication pipeline with a variety of yarn companies, publications, and collections; I have contracts in place to continue to teach at virtual events such as Vogue, Fiberworld, and Knit + Escape, plus at in-person events in 2022. I’ve got a world of new friends, colleagues, and students who I didn’t know a year ago. I’ve got a monthly video podcast. I’ve got a notebook full of more design ideas than I know what to do with. I’ve got plans to lay down the reins on my tech job. And I’ve got plans for KALs and other events that I can’t quite tell you about yet… but they’re exciting.

I’ve got a lot more respect than I used to for those who are making a living in this industry: both for those who have found ways to carve out full-time employment, and for those for whom it’s a side-hustle that’s maybe bigger than your regular hustle. I have appreciation for the amount of work it takes to make any of this go.

I’ve got a tremendous amount of gratitude for the opportunities that came my way, for everyone who said “yes,” for everyone who came along for any part of the ride. I’ve got a strange sort of gratitude for the circumstances of pandemic that gave me an opportunity I didn’t see coming. I’m even grateful for the things that didn’t work out: the lessons — some of them expensive — about what not to do or how not to do it.

I can’t wait to see what the next year brings.