Some projects are just cursed. It can be a combination of bad pattern writing, insufficient due diligence (gauge, people!), too much “pregame” (i.e., drinking before knitting), any one of which can lead to ripping out and despair. And then there’s that more nebulous of reasons that projects go astray: mojo.
The mojo is a fickle thing. It comes and goes at whim. Sometimes it stays for years. But don’t confuse mojo with experience. Obviously the more experience you have the better you are going to get. If you knit as much as I do, eventually things are going to seem pretty easy to understand. That’s when smugness and even arrogance come into play. Mojo hates arrogance. And it really hates being taken for granted. Mojo is just hanging around in the background waiting for that first smug thought to cross your mind (“piece of cake!”, “easy knit!”, “I could do this in my sleep!”) and then mojo no mo’.
I know this because my mojo deserted me recently. Actually it began before that when I started knitting a particular sweater. Everything went swimmingly, all pieces knit and blocked and ready to be put together. Then, just when I was thinking “That was easy!” my mojo up and left. I seamed the sweater once. It didn’t work so I took it apart. I asked advice and seamed it together again. No go. Out the seams came again. Then I discovered an egregious mistake on the back and had to take that down to the armholes. Three-quarters of the way back up I discovered yet another mistake. Down the back came again. Then I pinned it together to how I thought it should go, sought out help from the pattern writer only to be told “there’s something wrong with your raglan decreases” so now both sides of the front have to come back down to the armholes as well. Basically I could have knit two sweaters by now. And there is still no guarantee that the pieces will fit together when I’m finished.
But my mojo wasn’t through with me.
I’m also knitting a fingerless mitt with very easy colorwork as a sample for the store. I can’t even tell you how many times I had to take it back because I couldn’t keep that “very easy” pattern staright. Then when I finally got the pattern right I realized I had left out the thumb hole. Back down it came, only to realize that the thumb hole came after the part where I took took it back from. Even Beth commented that she had never seen me struggle so much. Really mojo?
I am humbled. Demoralized even. And somewhere my mojo is laughing diabolically.
Julie, WY's Do-bee and store wordsmith.