At this point, having zoomed through a dozen lines of olde English lettering, and navigated past a heel, the major challenges of the project are more or less safely past. Some fine judgment will be called for at the toe, which will control the length of the sock foot (and thus the fit). But at that point I will not scruple to take the toe apart and reknit it if necessary.
The major issue ahead revolves around duplicating sock 1 exactly, so as to get a matching pair of socks. A singleton sock is useful only as a Christmas stocking; you really have to knit a pair if you want to wear them. And here is where many knitters, and indeed many creative people, fall off the sled. It is far more fun to begin a new project, and it is possible to begin many projects without ever getting past the beginning on any of them. In knitting circles we even have a word for this: startitis.
Once you’ve happily zipped through all the fun parts, the challenge is to keep slugging away to the end of the project. This takes intestinal fortitude. Many a knitter loses interest after the first sock, or the first sleeve, or the front half of that fascinating pullover — in knitter cant, these sad items are UFOs, UnFinished Objects. And how many writers have partial manuscripts tucked into files on the word processor, or squirreled in desk drawers?
The work isn’t done until it’s completed — a Finished Object. Groups of knitters will occasionally combat startitis by having project-finishing challenges, deliberately working down the pile of UFOs. Writers are more solitary, and in dry spells will dig out the old mss and see if any are worth rewriting. What do you do, to combat your UFOs?
My new novel Speak to Our Desires is out exclusively from Book View Press!
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