Frogging & tinking: not a sex thing
...though "hookers" know exactly what I'm about.
The Venn diagram marking overlap between people who crochet and people who love puns is an almost-perfect circle, which is why we indulge in a sensible chuckle about being “hookers” — crochet hook-ers, that is. When a piece of yarncraft needs to be ripped apart to correct a mistake, we call it “frogging” — because you “rip it, rip it” (ribbit ribbit). Knitters have another word for frogging: tinking, because tink = knit backwards. The writing community could learn something here; it’s slightly less depressing to start over again when the language of deletion is punny.
Frogging has been on my mind lately. I spent almost two months stitching an ambitious design I’d had my eye on for some time: a charcoal-grey shawl-collared cardigan with an intricate skull in raised stitches on the back. I loved how classic and demure the sweater looked from the front, with its unexpected dash of gothic flare on the back. But despite meticulously checking my gauge at the beginning of the project (gauge = the number of stitches per inch), the fit on the cardigan just wasn’t what I wanted it to be. The arms were too tight, the length too short, and as I neared the completion of the project, I had way too much yarn leftover. I’d unknowingly veered off-course, with no way to salvage any part of the work.
Like any artist worth her salt, I shoved the sweater in a drawer and completed a slew of other projects while I studiously ignored its existence. I knew what had to be done, but I didn’t want to do it. Though the poor fit was entirely my fault, I felt a little betrayed by the pattern itself. All my dreams of cozying up in my granny-meets-grunge-rock sweater were unraveling. Literally.
This week, I decided the time had come. I found a new sweater pattern to get excited about, but to make it, I’d have to un-make the skull sweater. Now, my fellow yarncrafters know that the ultimate expression of hubris in our medium is weaving in your ends before the project is complete. For the uninitiated, this means hiding yarn tails by threading them into your work with a tapestry needle. Generally, weaving ends is the final (tedious) step in any project, but I wove my ends as I went with the skull sweater. To frog it, I had to find all my carefully-hidden yarn ends — no easy task, particularly as the sweater came together in seamed pieces. Still, I summoned the patience of a saint (to be precise: 17th-century St. Charlotte, the patron saint of crochet) and picked apart the whole mess, one stitch at a time.
At the end of it, I felt the kind of relief that only comes after the completion of a dreaded task. It wasn’t unlike the feeling I had several months ago, when I frogged the first 10,000 words of the novel I’d been working on. It felt like I’d made an error in the foundation chain (the baseline sequence of stitches in any crochet project), and no amount of fiddling could compensate for my errors. I was working from an extensive plot plan — the narrative equivalent of a gauge swatch in yarncraft — but managed to knock myself off-course. Put another way, the pattern was well-written, but the execution was wonky.
I’m not normally one to remake the same crochet pattern more than once; novelty is part of the fun for me, especially when it comes to art. While I obviously had no plans to chuck the entire plot blueprint and start from scratch, I had to get real with myself about why the previous draft malfunctioned. Ultimately, I realized my initial concept for the story had become a gimmick; I had to let go of a cute, funny, but ultimately ineffective “bit” in order to establish a firm narrative foundation based on character-driven conflict. Sad as I was to release that idea to the wind, it was the only way forward.
I wish I could tell you that frogging your art — whatever form it takes — gets easier with time. But the truth is, starting over necessitates destruction, and destruction almost always feels like a loss. In both of my recent encounters with frogging, there was lag time between the realization that starting over was necessary, and actually taking the steps to start over. I needed to acclimate to the idea of destroying the Broken Thing in order to make the Hopefully Better Thing. And maybe, in some way, I had to mourn the Broken Thing, too. I had poured my creativity into a sieve, mistaking it for a bowl. That’s a unique kind of sadness, surely.
Hopefully Better Things are already taking root in the places Broken Things once occupied, as Hopefully Better Things often do. And, while it’s entirely possible that I’ll have to frog all of it, all over again, I have to believe each new start gets me closer to the end I’ve imagined.
xR
Winter Editing Special
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First Line Frenzy Roundup
No.256 (adult fantasy): Iaro didn’t flinch when her opponent slammed his fist into the taproom table, scattering cards and coins.
No.257 (adult historical): Lorna chided herself for not sprinkling sea salt in the corners of the house to chase away bad omens after her husband Patrick killed the gull.
No.259 (YA fantasy): In the depths of the sky, barely visible through the roaring storm clouds, a rift began to unravel.
Book of the Week
If you adored Ninth House — the first book in the Alex Stern series, and Bardugo’s first foray into adult fiction — then you’ll be thrilled to know the follow-up, Hell Bent, delivers BIG with more murder, more creepy rituals, and lots more secret society shenanigans. For the uninitiated, this dark academia series follows Galaxy “Alex” Stern as she navigates her role in Lethe House, an organization tasked with enforcing compliance from the eight magical secret societies of Yale. I don’t want to say too much (spoilers would be a veritable crime here), but I can assure you Leigh Bardugo is my favorite fantasy writer working today. For me, she’s right up there with Patrick Rothfuss (The Name of the Wind) and Susanna Clarke (Piranesi). If you’re interested in Hell Bent, kindly use the affiliate links below to purchase the hardcover or audiobook!
The fact that crocheting has a patron saint says everything about how hard it is! Thanks for another issue.
This was good!