Waiting for Yarn

Designing patterns for magazines involves a lot of waiting.

Waiting for ideas to strike. Waiting for quiet time to work on those ideas. Waiting for submission calls that let you know it's time to submit the ideas to Magazine A, B, or C. (Sometimes the submission calls spark the ideas.)

Sending off your swatches and proposals, then sitting back and waiting for a response. This can take weeks or months, during which time you become convinced that a) your swatch was rubbish, and b) your idea hasn't a snowball's chance in you-know-where of being accepted.

To distract yourself, you keep crocheting.

Then, if you're lucky, comes the excitement of seeing an editor's name in your inbox. (This usually means good news.) The excitement builds as you read the message: "Dear Sue, we'd like to include your design for the Whatchamacallit Cowl in our Stupendous 2015 issue." This is followed by project dimensions and payment details, along with a due date (usually several weeks away - no problem! you think). The email closes with a polite request for your agreement to these terms, and a promise of yarn shipment contingent upon same.

A small wave of yarny euphoria washes over your soul. Your work has paid off! Somebody likes it! You tell your husband (in a voice that tries to sound casual, but fails) that you've sold a pattern, and he congratulates you. You turn back to your keyboard, click the "reply" button, and accept the editor's kind offer (reminding yourself, as you type, that though your designerly soul is bubbling over with delight, too many exclamation points would look unprofessional).

This euphoria lasts about a day or two, then the waiting begins anew. Now you're waiting for the yarn. You wonder what kind they'll choose - will it be similar to your swatch yarn? Will you have to re-work parts of your pattern to accommodate differences in weight, fiber content, or texture? (Almost a guaranteed "yes" to the last question.)

There's usually a gap of a week or two between project acceptance and yarn shipment. After the first week, you start keeping one eye on the calendar and one eye on the mailbox, expecting every day to see a bulky package from a yarn company. When the mailbox turns up empty, you listen hopefully for the hiss of brakes and the beep-beep that signals the arrival of a big brown van outside your door.

Towards the end of the second yarnless week, you begin to wonder whether you should email the editor (but you hesitate to bother her because you know she's busy). Every day you re-calculate how much time is left until the project is due. Every day the faint apprehension grows, mixing with the lingering remnants of excitement.

Today, I am waiting for yarn. :)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~