This weekend, I frogged a knitting project.
You might remember me complaining about my having too many projects on the go. This lack of focus (and discipline) with my knitting is an expression of enthusiasm – I get all fired up about a project I’ve seen and want to make one myself – but it ends up being a distraction. When there are too many projects on the needles, there are too many options to choose from, and everything takes too long to finish. I end up not knitting at all. So, at the beginning of January, I emptied my knitting basket and laid all the projects out in rows across the floor of my office. Wow. There were a lot of them. And I resolved to start nothing new until the number of projects was reduced to some reasonable and normal number, four or maybe five.
I started to knit.
I also started to sort and to frog. The thing is that there are always projects that start off well but go badly, projects that are not destined to ever be finished for one reason or another – or if they are finished, they won’t be worn or enjoyed then either. They might not fit. The design might not be flattering. The colour might look better on the skein than it does knitted. (Handpaints are bad for this.) The fabric might be too loose or too tight. The design or pattern might not be fun to knit. There are lots of reasons for knitting projects to not get done.
And it’s okay to not finish what you started, if the process of creating it is not giving you joy.
This particular project was attractive enough – and I had bought yarn specifically for it UGH! – but the construction method was counter-intuitive and annoying. I’d started it six times and although it looked better than the first time, I still wasn’t happy with it. I’d hit a stall, where I was going to need to do a pattern design intervention, and just wasn’t getting to it. I simply didn’t want to knit it anymore, so on the weekend, I faced reality, frogged the project, and returned the wool to my stash. It’s not lying there, silently nagging me anymore.
It is good for my focus and my discipline to periodically sort through things, and review what’s working and what’s not. It’s an exercise that makes me more effective, and I’ve learned that if something sits more than a certain period of time, I’m never going to get to it. A project left on the needles for 3 months? I’ll never finish it. A garment I haven’t worn in two years? Might as well send it to Goodwill because I’ll never wear it again. Dishes I haven’t used in three years? Send them off to find a new home. I follow the same sorting process with all the various inventories of my life – clothes, books, knitting, and (you guessed it) writing.
Yes, with writing. There are writing projects I have started that will never be completed. They might not be good ideas. They might not be marketable ideas. They might be projects that sounded better in synopsis than they work out in the book itself. They might be projects featuring problematic characters or characters who refuse to cooperate. This is different from books I’m still figuring out how to write, or stories I’m not sure how to tell. There are ideas that just don’t work, and I think that we can learn to recognize which ones they are.
And we can learn to give ourselves some slack, by letting those ideas go. We hear a lot about the value of persistence in publishing, and there’s truth in that idea – there’s also truth in the notion that we need to be particular about what projects we’re persistent about. Where do we invest our time? Do we make it count?
The most dangerous thing that new authors do IMO is to cling to their first project or first book idea and persist in revising and submitting that work, over and over and over again, long after it’s lost its spark and they’ve lost their interest in it. This is often also after the market has moved on and the idea is no longer fresh or pertinent.
Not every idea will become a completed manuscript, and not every completed manuscript will become a published book. That’s a hard lesson to learn – and it’s harder yet to decide what to chuck, to decide what is no longer worth your interest.
But the exercise sharpens your focus and restores your passion. So, have a hard look at your own projects in work. Are there ideas that just aren’t going to become the books you want them to be? Are there projects you’ve been working on for too long? Shake them off – or at least put them aside and review them again in three months – and give yourself some room to breathe.
A reality check at regular intervals can restore your spark and sharpen your focus, give you a little boost to get more done. Try it and see. The first one you abandon is the hardest and then it gets easier.
Trust me.