I Heart Kate Atherley

I feel very, very  honored that Kate Atherley reviewed Sock Architecture. She has already done so much for me, by helping me shape the book and make it better than it would have been without her encouragement, questions and "not sure what you mean here" notes.

I'm always super-excited that anyone likes my book, but my heart kind of skips a beat when it's someone who, when you Google her name, has an automatic "sock" suggestion come up after it.

No, really, it does.

I don't know if this kind of anxiety is normal, but I worried when I was writing this book. I thought no one would "get" it. It's very gratifying to find that they do!

Writing, Revising, and Startitis

A tiny preview of something in my book.

"Startitis" happens for a reason. Casting on a project is way more fun than sewing on buttons or darning in ends, at least for me.

I'm working on the first round of edits for my first book. I say this hoping it will not be my last book. I'm on the stage that feels like choosing buttons. I'm not even to sewing on buttons, yet!

Editing, even though it is so important to good writing, isn't quite as much fun as writing, for me. It takes discipline. You have to love and hate your writing at the same time. Love it enough to spend time reading it carefully. Hate it enough to cut, delete, and change it.

There's a saying in the news business for a hard-nosed editor: "She doesn't mind killing other people's words." (In reality, that phrase is put in a way that is much colder, but I don't want the Google results that might come up if I use the one I know best.)

It is painful to realize that I have written something out in 2 pages what I can re-write in half a page. But, it's exciting to see that half a page when it is finished...and to realize that the half page maybe wouldn't have been possible without the 2-page draft that came before it.

I felt better about my ambiguous relationship to rewriting when I read A Moveable Feast. There's a section where Hemingway damns Stein's writing with faint praise. He writes about her great affection for writing, and how much she loves turning it out on a daily basis. But. She doesn't edit, rewrite, or even read her proofs for herself.

"This book (The Making of Americans) began magnificently, went on very well for a long way with stretches of great brilliance and then went on endlessly in repetitions that a more conscientious and less lazy writer would have put in the waste basket."

OUCH! I hope no one says something like that about me. I know some of my weaknesses. I tend to hyperbole. I use too many words when fewer will do. I'm trying to fix that, now.

Good Editing = Good Writing

Kate, who is just so adorable.

Years ago, one of my favorite teachers told me, "Good writing can't happen without good editing."

He was doubly correct when it comes to writing knitting patterns.

You can have a lovely knit sample and gorgeous photography for a pattern, but nothing can make up for unclear, ambiguous writing or mathematical errors.

If there's anything I've learned from working as a journalist, it's that no one, no matter how talented, experienced or careful, can be trusted to truly edit his or her own writing. At the absolute minimum, I firmly believe that every pattern should be printed out and read by at least one person who is not the original author. If nothing else, they might catch a grammar or spelling error.

Why does a grammar or spelling error matter to a knitter? Consider the relationship between a photographer and her subject. Some people are so nervous about having their picture taken that the slightest hesitation or misstep on the photographer's part blows apart their confidence entirely. They bail. They cut and run, at least emotionally. They challenge and criticize. Good photography might happen under those conditions, but great photography will be almost impossible.

A spelling error in a knitting pattern, even in the preamble that a lot of people don't take seriously, shakes the knitter's confidence. They may have paid good money for this pattern that looks like a rough draft.

Worse, and hiding in a thicket of k1 and p2, is a Math Error. This is often enough to destroy the knitter's confidence in the pattern, the designer, and even his or her self as a knitter. It's horrible.

Fortunately for all of us, there are people who have trained in the art and science of avoiding both. They're called Technical Editors, but they really should be called Pattern Guardian Angels.

I was really lucky and landed a great one with Knitty, Kate Atherley. She was prompt, gentle and kind. It takes a special kind of person to point out that you made a big, honking mistake without making you feel like an idiot.

Even better, when my pattern used a technique that she hadn't used before, she picked up yarn and needles and TRIED IT. (And, whew, said it worked.) That, ladies and gentlemen, is super awesome.

So, raise your needles (or hook, or spindle, or shuttle) in salute to the humble technical editor, who doesn't even always get credit for his or her work. Without them, we would all be sending each other many less-than-happy messages on Ravelry.