Sunday, January 28, 2024

When Gwen Knits-a journey to fame and fortune by Leanne Dyck (Ch 12)

Chapter Eleven: Gwen joins the Canadian Knitwear Designer Association and continues to work on establishing her knitwear design business. 

 

photo by ldyck


Chapter Twelve

 Some crafters are cold-weather friends—abandoning their knitting needles in the Spring. One year, determined to encourage them to remain faithful I concocted a plan. I collected cotton, bamboo and linen in colours that popped and knit Summer weather wear. Once done, I worked on a window display. It had my full attention until... I saw him—a really cute guy skirting puddles. I started sending him subliminal messages: Come inside the shop. Come inside.

He walked past and was almost out of sight. But then... Then he turned around. He opened the shop door and walked in. He. Was. In. The. Shop.

Marta pulled the top I was holding out of my hands and all but threw me at him. “Gwen will be happy to help you.”

His face lit up. “I need to buy...um...ah.” He quickly scanned the shop and landed on a peg board full of knitting needles. “These.”

The electricity between us was so strong I could barely think. “What size?”

“I'm a medium,” he told me.

I smiled. “What size needle?”

“Hmm...well... I don't know.”

“What size does the pattern say you need?”

“Pattern? Yeah, I need one of those too.”

I guided him to our collection of patterns. “What would you like to knit? A scarf? A hat?”

“What do you like to knit?”

“Sweaters, mainly,” I told him.

A customer—an attractive redhead—was in line to pay for a pattern but she walked over to me and dived in. “Knitting a sweater is time-consuming and the patterns are unreadable. Here knit these socks.” Ms. Nosy took a sock pattern off the rack and handed it to him.

“I want to buy a sweater pattern,” he told me.

Ms. Nosy rejoined the queue.

I showed him several very nice sweater patterns for men but he pulled a woman's sweater pattern off the rack—it was one of my designs. “It's a gift for a friend,” he told me. “Do you think she'll like it?”

He was planning on knitting a sweater for his girlfriend. My heart fell to my feet, but I bounced back the best I could. “I think so.”

He commissioned me to select the yarn. 

“The pattern states a requirement of six balls of yarn, but I advise buying seven to be safe.”

Yarn, pattern, knitting needles, he carried it all to the checkout.

“Make sure to knit a sample swatch to ensure that you have the right size of knitting needles,” I told him before I rang up the sale.

He looked at me like I was speaking a foreign language, but said, “Hmm...okay...sure.”

“Keep the receipt. If you need another pair of needles, we'll exchange them with proof of purchase.” I handed him the bill of sale.

“I'll guard this like gold.” He waved the bill and grinned.”Do you always play it safe?” He didn't wait for an answer. “Can you wrap it up fancy?”

We didn't have much in the way of gift wrap. I found some tissue paper and a brown paper bag.

“I also need a gift card.”

“We don’t carry any cards.”

“A scrap piece of paper will do.”

I slipped a piece of paper into the bag and handed it to him. “Have a nice day.”

“It's become one.” He offered me an adorable smile.

I watched him walk to the door, down the sidewalk and out of my life.

After he left the shop got even busier—someone was trying to figure out how to make I-cord; someone else was having trouble achieving even tension; someone else wanted to exchange a pair of knitting needles; someone else wanted to buy yarn but we didn't have enough in the colour she'd selected but I thought we had more in the back. So I didn't notice when the handsome stranger returned until he stood in front of me.

He pulled a folded note out of the brown paper bag and gave it to me.

I unfolded it and read...


Roses are red,

Some tulips are too,

You're really cute,

I'd like to date you

-Jaron Cardew


Read Chapter Thirteen of

When Gwen Knits


photo by Byron


This is me.


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Sunday, January 21, 2024

When Gwen Knits-a journey to fame and fortune by Leanne Dyck (Ch 11)

Chapter Ten: Marta helps Gwen see the value of her designs and encourages her to connect with other knitwear designers.


Just look what Mother Nature left on Mayne Island recently (1/17).
Isn't it beautiful...?


photos by ldyck


Chapter Eleven

 I graduated from High School and started working at Urban Knits full-time. Living and working in the shop, I couldn't be happier. I poured all my energy into growing my knitting career. I felt unstoppable.

I was always on the lookout for venues in which to sell my sweaters. A high-end clothing boutique was a couple of blocks from Urban Knits. Clothing was staged like works of art. I fantasized about my sweaters being displayed so attractively. Of course, without Mother's financing, I could no longer afford to buy anything. The saleswoman probably thought I was just a lookie-loo. She didn't know I had a mission. It took me several visits to build up enough confidence to discuss my work, but one day I did. “I'm a knitwear designer.”

The imposing woman with purple highlights, dressed in black, pulled her glasses off her face and let them dangle on the gold chain around her neck. “Everyone's a writer, a designer these days.”

I began to unzip my jacket. “I'm wearing one of my sw—”

“We only carry European designers.” Her shoes beat a steady tattoo as she charged off to tidy an already immaculate display.

I'd been dismissed.

I crawled home to my apartment in Urban Knits, where I consoled myself with daydreams of my sweaters hanging in European boutiques—where they only carried North American designers.

I joined the Canadian Knitwear Designer Association and took solace in that community. Many grappled with the same problems I had. They complained about knitters being unwilling to pay for patterns, lack of payment for designs, lack of recognition for work completed, and closed doors preventing further success.

Designers with more experience attempted to encourage us with carefully crafted pep talks.

“Believe in your work, and others will too.”

“All the struggling will pay off. You will obtain success.”

“A couple of years ago, I was where you are. Now look at me. I've built a successful career. Believe me, if I can do it, so can you.”

Religiously, I lurked, reading each post, taking comfort where possible.


Read Chapter Twelve of

 When Gwen Knits 



photo by Leanne

Are you looking for me?
I'm right here...


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Sunday, January 14, 2024

When Gwen Knits-a journey to fame and fortune by Leanne Dyck (Ch 10)

Chapter Nine: When her mother insists that she abandon her knitting needles, Gwen leaves home and moves to...?


photo by ldyck

Snow...? On Mayne Island? Occassionally. So, quick, grab the camera.
A few hours of snow that lasted three days--so far.
Will it snow again? Stay tuned...
 

Chapter Ten


I wandered the streets. No matter which direction I headed I always ended up at Urban Knits.

I blew silver fog into the black night. No lights but one. It eliminated the display window—a collection of tantalizing yarn spilling out of an apple basket. Little can stop BC wind from biting through layer after layer of clothing. I stamped my feet and checked the time on my cell phone—seven o'clock, two hours past closing. But I had nowhere else to go. Desperately, I knocked again. I removed a glove and knocked even louder. A rapid-fire series of knocks later, the lights flicked on.

 Marta held the door open. I wheeled my suitcase into the shop. 

“Oh, dorogy.” Her words were full of empathy.

She deserved an explanation. I gave her the condensed version. “Mother kicked me out.” 

No questions, she just said, “This too is grief.”

 I followed her to the back of the shop, up a flight of stairs I'd never used, through a hidden door, into a small sparsely furnished apartment—a futon against one wall, a desk against the other.

Files were open on the desk and the computer was on. “I will just finish here and then leave you to the place.”

Mother had always stressed the importance of good posture. I flopped down on the futon. “Thank you so much, Marta.”

“My pleasure, dorogy. This is a small apartment but there is a bathroom with a shower through that door. Kitchen...? There is only this microwave and that small fridge but I will bring you meals."

"No, I can't—."

Marta waved away my objection. "Hush," she said sternly. "Now I can take room and board from your salary.” She waited a beat and added. “I am joking.”

I needed that chuckle.

I pulled my needles and yarn out of my backpack. 

“What are you knitting?” She asked.

“Oh, I’m just playing.” It was a shorthand she knew. This time it meant that I was “uninventing” a stitch pattern based on seed stitch. I recorded the results in my scrapbook and pinned the sample swatches to each corresponding page.

I was working in multiples of 7–7 knit stitches followed by 7 purl stitches—when Marta turned off the computer. She had to move my scrapbook to sit down beside me.

Unlike Mother, Marta asked permission before invading my privacy. She found my sweater sketches. “I like.” She flipped the page. “I like.” She kept flipping, uttering the same two words page after page. “You have the eye of a knitwear designer. You should email Patty Beacon, president of the Canadian Knitwear Designer Association.”

Ms. Beacon's reply to my email listed a wealth of knitwear design books: Sweater Design in Plain English by Maggie RighettiDesigning Knitwear by Deborah Newton and Ethnic Knitting: Discovery: The Netherlands, Denmark, Norway, and The Andes by Donna Druchuna.

 I studied each book and took careful notes until… I felt inspired to write my first pattern. Research books spread out on the futon, knitting needles and yarn close at hand, I flipped to a page in my scrapbook. I was alone. Marta had left hours earlier. But someone was there with me. Something… A physic connection… My Auntie Ollie was provinces away in Manitoba but it felt like she was sitting beside me on the futon.

Night after night, I worked. And night after night, I felt Auntie Ollie guiding me.

Several months later, I had five new sweaters and hand-written patterns for each. 

Marta was overjoyed when I showed them to her, but she suggested, "You need test knitters and pictures." 

Marta and her knitting group volunteered to knit the sweaters I designed. Once they were done, we all had fun taking pictures of them wearing their new sweaters.  I used Marta's printer to produce my first pattern collection.

Proudly, Marta attractively displayed my patterns right beside the cash register. “Not every knitting shop can boast their own knitwear designer, dorogy.”

Knitter after knitter bought my patterns. 


Read Chapter Eleven of 

When Gwen Knits



photo by Jason

This is me with my new friend
-a creation of Mayne Island craver Jason.
My new friend is really cool and needs to be admired in person.


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Sunday, January 7, 2024

When Gwen Knits-a journey to fame and fortune by Leanne Dyck (Ch 9)

Chapter Eight: At her dad's funeral, a grieving Gwen learns she can't go back "home"--to the family farm. 


 

photo by ldyck


Chapter Nine


 My strained relationship with Mother became like an old pair of panties. The shot piece of elastic that had once held us together had no more pull. So I avoided her. I stayed away—night and day, only returning when I thought she must be asleep or away from the house.

One day, I watched her car drive away. I thought she was gone, but she was waiting for me in the kitchen—she must have doubled back.

“I've got to go,” I told her.

“Where?” The word was a challenge—stay if you're strong enough and I refused to appear weak around her.

We squared off—Mother at one end of the kitchen, me at the other.

“I've allowed you to muddle through to the eleventh grade, but this is where the muddling ends. It's time you consider your future. McNamaras are university graduates.”

“I'm a Bjarnson, not a McNamara,” I shot back. “I have a plan and it doesn't involve university.”

“You can't mean... You can't mean knitting? Knitting is just a hobby.”

“That's what you think.”

“This is my house. The only thing that matters is what I think.”

“Well, I guess it's time for me to move then.”

“Bye.” She clenched her jaw.

 There was only one place for me to go—out. But beyond that? My first thought was to run home to the farm, to Auntie Ollie. But she had made it clear that I couldn't go back there. The blood that bonded me to the Bjarnsons was diluted by McNamara blood. Second thought... 


Read Chapter Ten of 

When Gwen Knits


"after our hike"

photo by Byron

This is me.


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When Gwen Knits

Author reading on Mayne Island...