I can go on and on, it's true.
How much I hate not being good at something, I cannot even begin to say, I don't know if you know this about me. For years, I tried nothing new that required skill development (rather than native wit and cunning) because I couldn't stand the learning curve. Which is weird, because I love to learn stuff.
But I hate looking a fool. And people were always looking at me anyway, I felt compelled to look reasonably competent so as not to inspire mockery or pity. (Don't even try to analyze it. Really. I have a therapist.)
I mostly got away with it, as I run to competence anyway. But it's a very limiting way to live: Never biking, never hiking, never picking up a new game, or sport. No dancing in public. Reading a lot, working a lot. But not doing things that required a willingness to fall down physically or metaphorically.
That was my 20s, mostly.
But things change and along the way I started knitting and that led to the wild acquisition of new friends and hobbies and habits and now I have four spinning wheels (as well as a completely different life).
Spinning has been such a weird learning curve for me - not surprising as I am my own teacher mostly - and lately I have been terribly, terribly frustrated by my failures. My dim recollection that in learning things that require muscle memory as well as skull sweat you are often at your least competent right before a new skill takes root is the thought that started me on this post.
I started two summers ago - is that right? how can that be right? - and I learned some and
got better and then I switched to Canadian Production wheels which are
fast, fast, fast and I am not, not, not, and everything has been a
little of the moment since then.
Much over twisting.
I think it is important for me to remember that I mean over twisting
for my own purpose. Which is to make knitting yarn. A harder twist
yarn totally has uses, just not for my particular goals.
I've been making a lot of tightly plied two ply yarns because that was
how much twist the singles had. I know that technically I could run
them back through and remove some of the twist, but at the speed I've
been working, I thought I would shred the singles or leave me with an unbalanced two ply. And anyway, I don't wanna make do, I want to do it right.
All of which is a precursor to some pictures that I found interesting
This is about 600 yards of Shetland ram lamb that I really struggled with. This was a double coated lamb, a gorgeous soft mottled silver mixed with longer strands of silky black. I left the coats together because the blend was so beautiful to the eye.
You can see how inconstant this is - particularly on the right, the plying is almost hard? And it turns out that the silky black is a bit too wiry for comfort with that extra twist. Sigh.
When I can work up the heart, I'll remove a bit of the ply twist, see if that helps. But this was the step before the camel silk from last week - the reason I worked so hard to keep the twist soft enough.
When I ran out of that orange silk last week I ransacked the stash for anything suitable to finish the bind off - I didn't find it, but I did find three interesting little skeins.
Two are mine, one is a long draw demonstration from Spindle Rose. The spinning lesson is from July 4 2006, the other two from November 2005.
I am just fascinated to see that two years ago, when I was barely a spinner, I produced samples that are closer to what I was aiming than I can do now.
The difference being that I spun these on an Ashford Trad - a slow wheel - and on the Maja Suzie on a slow ratio. Switching to the Production style wheel made that big a difference in my ability to spin. Which isn't a criticism - my spinning has improved in other ways on the fast wheels, and I'm gaining control now that I haven't had previously
It's just interesting. This is why I date and label my skeins, why I kept my early efforts and samples along the way. I did it because people told me I should, but now, I totally get it. This is how you remember what you used to know, as well as figure out what you still have to learn.
Like Long draw. Still can't do that - it's like the top of a roller coaster I can't let go for. Something to work on.











I have loved British 'cozy' mysteries since high school and have spelled certain words the English way so long that I sometimes forget the 'normal' American spelling. One interesting thing is that I use fibre when referring to spinning material but fiber when meaning things like dietary fiber. I have no explanation for this.
I've been spinning for 30 years. I can do a long draw but I don't like it. It's uncomfortable for me. I twist too much or something and the older I get, the more it hurts. These days I mostly use a short, forward draw (inchworming) and a double-treadle wheel. I keeps me straight and in line with the wheel and I'm able to spin for longer at the time. Occasionally, someone will tell me that inchworming is wrong and only for beginners. I just say that it's just a different method and that as long as you produce yarn that's suitable for the purpose your intended purpose and you enjoy the process, there is no wrong way to spin. After they move on , I mutter to myself "Jerk, screw 'em!"
Posted by: Vicki in So. Cal. | 06 September 2007 at 08:11 PM
I'll willingly admit to membership in the not-trying-club. My 20's and half of my 30's, actually. It is now (at 37) that I am finding a great pleasure in occasionally mastering something new and difficult. I always thought I was lazy, but now I think I was afraid. I think having the really nice feeling of having gotten good at 'it', whatever it is, is motivation to keep doing more in order to keep the nice feeling. Works for me!
P.S. it's nice to hear your perspective on the 'U' thing, as a Canadian. I've been corrected for the honours and neighbours and colours on blog posts before, from Americans who are not even aware that some countries have a different way of spelling.
Posted by: seizuresalad | 06 September 2007 at 11:05 AM
Short rows and the Italian language had the exact same learning curve for me (and took about the same amount of time to take root in my brain, which only reveals my shameful slow-wittedness at knitting). I lived in Rome for 10 months, and suffered through four months of just. Not. Getting. It. I struggled and strained, and watched Italians get tired of waiting for me to think out my response—my housemate actually thought I was depressed, since I didn't talk much. And then one day it just clicked. I woke up, and I could speak Italian. It all came together in my head and flowed out of my mouth without any conscious effort from me. Same with the short rows. I tinkered, and researched, and scratched my head. And then, finally, it made sense.
You know what did it for the short rows? Your post about the realization that they exist outside of the pattern. Wow. That made the light bulb turn on. Thank you for that.
I love your insights about how things work—you seem to deconstruct things the same way I do, only you're much more eloquent in your response. Thanks for having the patience to tackle this stuff. You're not just doing it for your own benefit!
Posted by: Mome-rath | 05 September 2007 at 11:08 AM
It is nice to know that I'm not alone with the affliction of being a better-than-average beginner (due to natural ability) who never seems to move beyond that point for fear of being not-good... and likewise that spinning (which I've recently taken up, and am now hopelessly in love) may be something that can teach patience. Thank you for sharing your thoughts and progresses.
Posted by: Em | 05 September 2007 at 09:47 AM
Those were my 20s *and* my 30s. I've wasted so much time, and I still hate and avoid dancing in public (jumping up and down doesn't count as dancing).
I'm still on my starter wheel, a Louet Victoria, and only after 6 months did I move up to moderate speed from very, very slow. Because if I try to spin faster before I'm ready, I worry, I tense up, I hunch forward, I can't feed the fibre fast enough, I lose control of the thickness and I end up with overtwisted uneven nastiness. I want to enjoy this as well as spin useable yarn, so I'm working faster slowly.
Posted by: sarah | 05 September 2007 at 09:07 AM
I`ve got four wheels and they all spin differently, so it`s often a case of choosing the wheel to fit the yarn, as were. I started off as an "instinctive" spinner (read -not one clue as to what I was doing here) , then read up on Mabel Ross and tried to become a mathematical spinner, then gave up because this was so not me and went back to having a good time again. I think though it depends on whether you`re a process spinner or a results spinner. Me? Bit of both.
As to long draw, I can only do long draw on my fast little DD Mazurka with very well prepared handcarded rolags. I wasn`t intending to do it first time round but somehow once I started spinning that particular fibre it seemed the right thing to do and it just happened. (Like so many other things in life, lol.) So don`t fret about it. It will come.
And finally, the older I get (I`m 49 next month) the more I realise I have far more fun in life getting up, joining in and making a complete prat of myself than sitting being shy. And if people are lookimng at me...well, it`s probably because they`re admiring my self confidence, of course! But in my twenties....oh, youth is wasted on the young, it really is.
Posted by: Spinning Fishwife | 05 September 2007 at 07:40 AM
I heard the opposite...the more plys, the less twist. Spinning teachers teach contradictory things, in my small experience. I think the end result, the skein, and listening to people whose spinning product you respect, is the way to go.
10,000 hours.
Posted by: Laurie | 05 September 2007 at 05:55 AM
Learning is good. Learning can be tough on the psyche. I think it all works out in the end.
Posted by: Cassie | 04 September 2007 at 11:54 PM
I'm so glad that you are blogging your progress! I'll never be a spinner, being knee-deep in projects already. But I am having fun living vicariously through you.
Posted by: melissa | 04 September 2007 at 11:22 PM
Hey, that sounds like my 20s too.
I've been making a conscious effort to do things that are hard for me, just *because* they're hard. And it's been tough, sure, and interesting and surprising and sometimes goofy (like the hip-hop dance class I went to recently), but it's almost never been awful. And that has been a very valuable thing to have learned.
Posted by: Stephanie | 04 September 2007 at 08:21 PM
I am not a spinner and am not sure I want to be one. It all sounds so difficult. I am a self taught knitter and am always afraid that someone will find out that I knit wrong and that I don't do it well enough. I know that my projects have gotten better as I improve my skills (it's only been maybe 2 years) and I am trying to learn new things. I don't like feeling/looking incompetent either. I have to know all about what I am doing and do it well. At least I always did. Knitting has humbled me and I am learning a lot about myself (at age 49!) and it a long learning curve and god only knows where I will be at the end of it.
Posted by: donna lee | 04 September 2007 at 08:20 PM
Yeah, I'm no good at trying something I won't be good at either. Or still, depending on how you (Juno) are feeling about your own progress on that front at any given time. :-)
Posted by: Cordelia | 04 September 2007 at 07:59 PM
I appreciate so much that you share some of the inner workings of your spinning psyche. Sometimes I sit and try to apply all the different (and often contradictory) things that I read in spinning books, and sometimes I just sit and spin. I'm not sure which produces better yarn. What keeps me going is that my spinning is for ME, and not to please anyone else. So it's ok for me to love that overplied skein, or that unevenly spun singles, just because.
Posted by: DebbieB | 04 September 2007 at 06:55 PM
Oh for so long I wouldn't try anything I didn't think I could do well. Such a debilitating thought process. I had my son at 25 and that put an end to that. :) Happy spinning.
Posted by: Melinda | 04 September 2007 at 05:29 PM
Is there a particular reason you switched styles of wheels? While it's good to learn new skills and to challenge yourself (as you were saying), maybe unless you *need* to use a production wheel you're better off using your older wheels? I dunno, it seems as if you're fighting your spinning for reasons unsaid (or I just haven't read far enough back in your blog). Then again, if you keep fighting eventually you'll come out on the other side and feel like Wonder Woman, so it could be worth it in the end.
Either way, keep doing what you love and loving what you do. :)
Posted by: Tina M. | 04 September 2007 at 05:21 PM
There are so many schools of thought when it comes to spinning. When you are self-taught much of the information gleaned is contradicted by the next lesson that comes along. I've been told, and I hear the source is JMM, the more plies you use the more twist you need in the singles. Sometimes I can get my brain around that one and sometimes it just doesn't make any sense. I guess the best thing is to sit at my wheel and do some experimenting. Reading about your journey over the last couple of years has been inspiring and very helpful, too.
Posted by: margene | 04 September 2007 at 04:42 PM
Oh, how I do identify with what you have written about spinning and learning. Best wishes on the journey.
Posted by: Sarah | 04 September 2007 at 04:34 PM