Posted on 2 Comments

The cost of a pattern

Here is a list of all the things I needed to learn in order to run a moderately successful* pattern-selling business.

(In no particular order)

Adobe InDesign
Adobe Photoshop
Adobe Illustrator
WordPress
Etsy backend
Ravelry backend
MailChimp
Crochet/Knitting (obv)
Maths
Coding
Pattern Writing
Creative Writing
Patreon backend
Copyright
Photography & Lighting & Set Design
Modelling (assuming you’re doing it yourself, cause that’s cheaper)
– and consequently, make-up, hair, clothing
Self-promotion
Ad Lib Public Speaking
Speech Writing
YouTube backend
Accounting
Public Relations
Crisis Management
Instagram/Facebook/Twitter etc
Self Care
Time Management
Teaching
Team Leadership
And on top of all that, you have to be creative, original, inspiring, socially conscious and available for questions.

And some people think designers don’t deserve 7 quid for a pattern?
And bare in mind, both PayPal and your selling platform of choice will take a hefty cut of that 7 quid too, and there are taxes and expenses to factor in after everything else.

So, really…? We don’t do enough for the cost of the cheapest bottle of wine in Lidl?

When you buy a pattern, you support a designer and you validate their hard work and long hours. When you steal a pattern or complain that designers don’t bend over backwards to supply multiple samples in multiple yarns, or that they don’t reply to your email within 24 hours, or that you chose a complex pattern as your first forray into a particular craft and now you’re stuck and it’s their fault… you kill morale and break hearts. And a broken heart is rarely creative.

All I’m saying is, there’s a LOT involved.

I mean. We’re in a pandemic right now and stress is already at an all time high.
I’m really feeling it, and I can see others struggle to cope, too.
So, can we please all lay off one-person businesses for a little while, let us recover and regroup after the shock of Raverly’s ignominious decisions, and instead, spend our time and energy focusing on the bigger fish for a change?

And can we please acknowledge how much time, energy and expense it takes to get a pattern ready for sale – that most designers will have discounts throughout the year if the full cost is genuinely too much – and maybe be glad that it ONLY costs the price of a couple fancy cups of coffee?

*ftr, by “moderately successful”, I mean I just about break even most months on average. And I am fruuuugal to a fault, let me tell ya.

Posted on 4 Comments

7 Ways to make YOUR next crochet pattern test a success

a scrubbed wooden table holds a small sample of pink garter stitch knitting, a crochet hook and a small piece of knitting on a set of double pointed needles

Running a pattern test can be a mindfield.
Let me run you through the basics.

“You haven’t made it in the industry until someone develops an irrational hatred for you.”

It’s odd that an observation like that would make me feel a lot better as I sat, sharing a pot of tea with the head of a well known yarn brand. We’d met briefly at an event by chance years and years ago. I was a young designer just starting out, she was a business woman used to seeing her name on billions of ball bands, and she’d asked me how I was finding the day-to-day work of crochet design.

I told her almost everyone has been very supportive and enthusiastic.
Almost everyone?”
“Well,” I replied, nervous and unsure how many beans to spill on this nice lady’s beautiful hand-knit jumper, “there was one customer recently who was anything but.”

I told her about a woman who blasted a hole through Ravelry in her haste to post on my forum where she’d offered up a tract about how what I was doing with crochet was “wrong”, how the terms I used were “made up gobbledegook” (isn’t everything?) and how she’d had to personally help dozens of confused people understand my patterns by rewriting them using the “proper” terminology.

As several brave souls came forward to defend my honour and explain the reasoning behind the new terms in my patterns, she chose to roll her eyes and proclaim my defenders “acolytes of Aoibhe”.
Which, frankly, wow. I wish, right?!

And so, this yarn brand head offered up her wisdom.

I still think her observation has an element of truth to it, but I’ve found a gentler, kinder perspective on success since then.

“You haven’t made it in the industry until your colleagues come to your for advise”.

I like that idea better.
So, I’ve decided to answer the most common question I get from fellow designers.

“Do you use a tech editor and if not, what do you do instead?”

OK, so. Here’s the skinny.
I hired several in my early days, thinking that was the thing to do. And before I go any further, I still think editors are great, if you have the capital and you can develop a relationship with a good one who knows and works with your style, not against it.

But early on, I didn’t have a style, I barely had a business frankly. I certainly didn’t have the extra cash to hire a pro to fix something I could do myself. And then I discovered the glorious, gorgeous, witty, brilliant band of makers called “pattern testers”.
Ah, what wonderful folk! What magical woodland creatures!

Here’s what I’ve learnt about pattern testing and editing from these majestic beings:

1. Don’t ask friends to be testers.
Well, not only friends, anyway.
Strangers will give you a way better impression of your pattern than people who love you. Friends will soft ball you, and that’s no use when your pattern goes out in the world. A combo of veterans who can tell you “You used to write that instruction like this… but you’ve changed it and now it makes less sense”, and new people who can be all like “I don’t understand that shorthand and where am I supposed to put that treble at the end of the row?” is what you’re looking for.

2. Be sure your testers know you can take criticism.
Sometimes, designers screw up with their pattern writing big time. Something you think is as clear as a summer’s day can be as murky as fuck to someone outside your brain. And your testers need to know you won’t be missish about their observations.
I make a BIG point about asking my testing teams to rip the pattern apart. I assure them I’ll thank them for every single slip up they point out to me, and then I do exactly that.
“This is wrong”
“Hell, yea! Thanks for spotting that!”
This encourages makers to engage in the process. It’s worth the dent to the ego, folks, because you are left with a much better pattern afterwards. There is no greater gift than honesty, and I make damn sure I show I appreciate it.

It’s also vital that a tester’s confusion isn’t made to seem like their fault. It has got to be clear their confusion is your doing. You wrote the pattern, if they don’t understand, it’s time for a rewrite.

3. Live and breathe your pattern text.
OK, so while the test is happening, you’re editing the text to fix any mistakes and flaws you’ve written in. This is the gift that keeps on giving. I assure you, three years later, when you get a question about a certain row, or a certain set of stitches you used to solve a stitch count problem, you’ll remember it because you spent time discussing it with a tester.
I’ve the worst memory imaginable (just ask my boyfriend… er, what’shisface), but engaging fully in the testing process has meant I have been able to answer very specific questions at yarn festivals and trunk shows.
“How do you start the first fan on Venus?”
“Ooooh, you know, I had a tester ask me that exact thing, so I did up a video. Hang on, I’ll find it for you.”
Boom. You immediately look like a pro.

4. I usually test on Ravelry, but what do I do if I can’t/don’t want to access it anymore?
Ah, ha. OK. Yes. I’m working on that.
My current test is being conducted totally in Googe Docs and Google Sheets. Bare in mind, I’m only two days in, but so far so good. If it works out, I’ll show you all my set up, explain what I did (and what I’d do differently) in a future post.
Comment below if a post like that would interest you.

5. Be sure your testers know going in what to expect.
There’s nothing worse than arriving at a party only to be told on arrival that it’s BYOB, right? Same thing applies with a pattern test. Be sure when you invite people to volunteer that they know your intentions with the end result.
• Timeframe for the test.
• Do they have to use the same yarn as you?
• Do you need info from them like time the project took, exact yardage, etc?
• Do you allow modifications?
• Are you going to need modelled photos? Will you accept photos modelled by the tester’s Suberian Husky. (The answer is always “Yes”)

All these things can be useful early on.

6. Stay present.
I have slipped up on this a LOT in the past.
My depression was a massive cause of prolonged radio silence. I’d leave questions unanswered for way, way too long, and answer them well after a point my info could have been helpful.
It seems hypocritical to expect you to do this when I have spent years doing the opposite, but truly, it is such an important thing to do.
Answer questions swiftly, folks.
Testers will understand if you can’t (as long as you do explain), but everyone will be much happier if you are in regular contact.

Nowadays I’m much stronger (two years of therapy did wonders), so I try to check in with my testers at least once a day when I’ve an active test on the go.

7. Hashtag your test
Oh yes. People will follow your testers progress on social media.
That gives them some well-deserved notoriety and turns a very solitary process into a bit of a party. It also means that people are more likely to volunteer to test a future pattern, too!
“I saw the test for XYZ pattern, and it looked like a lot of fun!”
It is!

It’s also a great way to see how each tester is getting on. Commenting on progress posts does good things both for the poster and for you. Anyone watching knows where to find you, and it shows your testers that you are as hyped about their work as they are.

…………….

There are many other smaller tips that I could offer, but the more I write the less time I have left to show my testers some love.
If you’ve any questions about pattern testing, I’m happy to answer them in the comments below, so ask away!

In the meantime, happy designing, folks, and happy testing!

Posted on 4 Comments

The Irish Brat

We don’t have bad weather in Ireland, you’re just wearing the wrong clothes.

I do love to joke with visitors to Ireland about their meteorological expectations for my tiny island home in the North Atlantic.

Invariably, a beautifully rendered photo of blue skies filled with happy, puffy clouds, swathes of lush verdant pasture and rugged, bone dry cliff faces will have ingrained themselves in the tourist’s imagination long before they’ve bought their ticket.

How can you tell it’s summer in Ireland? The rain is warmer.

And while nowadays, a traveller to this most green of islands would soon learn the value of a light, water-proof jacket, in times past – the Pre-Gore Tex days – other means of keeping dry were necessary.

Enter, a garment which was once so valuable that it constituted the entirety of some people’s wardrobe; so ubiquitous that the length and colour of it could clue you in to a person’s status; and so quintessentially Irish that it was banned for much of the Tudor era for being intolerably Gaelic.

The Brat (pronounced “Brot”) was a broad, long slab of woollen fabric that was worn like a cape or cloak. It was essential kit in the medieval Irish landscape.


“It is a fit house for an outlaw, a meet (suitable) bed for a rebel,
and an apt cloak for a thief” – Edmund Spenser (16th c.)

Bratanna (plural) were made of thick woven material. Early examples were simply rectangular, and constructed of three thin strips stitched together along their selvedges – a consequence of the narrow looms of the period – while later examples became more tailored, more curved and designed to fit human shoulders more snuggly.

There are samples extant that feature a shaggy mane of loose woollen locks covering one whole side. Presumably the added weight was worth it for the protection against the winter cold that the un-processed, lanolin-filled hairy layer added.

Whatever the shape, texture or colour, this garment had the ability to strike fear into occupying English forces. While Tudor era invaders were often safe enough within the walls of their towns dotted around the island, the wilds of Ireland were filled to the brim with brat-wearing natives who seldom cast a forgiving eye on their unwelcome neighbours.

In a moment of pure propagandist genius, and with the stroke of a quill, Elizabeth I of England simultaneously outlawed brat wearing in English occupied towns and issued her troops in Ireland brats of their very own.

The thing I find most fascinating about the English attitude to the brat at the time is best explained by John R. Zeigler in his journal article “Irish Mantles, English Nationalism”. To paraphrase, Ziegler describes a need to “other” Irish natives in a way that would satisfy the Tudor desire for expansion and conquest. Native Irish people looked similar to native English for the most part and shared many of the same customs, and so the need arose to emphasise and demonise the few nominal differences that would justify the on-going conquest of Ireland.

Language was one such way, and the good old brat – believe it or not – was another.

The brat was held up as evidence of moral decline, in fact.

In winter it is her cloak and safeguard; and also a coverlet for
her lewd exercise (hanky panky).
And when she hath filled her vessel, under it she can hide her burden (pregnancy) and when her bastard is born it serves instead of swaddling clouts (clothes).

– 16th Century English text

I don’t know about you, but I suspect that’s quite a mite more than one can reasonably expect from a glorified duvet.

Over time, the brat became less common and clothing regrettably became more and more homogenised across Europe. No longer could you definitely tell one culture from another with a glance at their silhouette. To me, this seems like a real shame.

Luckily, brat-wearing – of a sort – clung on in the West of Ireland, where English influence both in the past and nowadays is weakest. It was not uncommon even in my childhood to see old women wrapped up in a modern day equivalent. And every decade or so some designer or other attempts to revive the look with a modern twist. But trends come and go, and the brat seems now to be consigned to history.

But, the next time you ward off a chilly morning with a crochet blanket or a knitted shawl, or the next time you decide to treat yourself to a duvet day, think back and imagine how it would feel if that fabric on your back were “a meet bed for a rebel” or a handy “coverlet for your lewd exercise“.

I think you’ll agree that the world is a less colourful place without so singular an item of clothing.