Good
grief. Has it seriously been a month and a half already? It's sort of shocking the way days, weeks,
months fall out of the year while I'm not looking.
At any rate, here we are in the thick of Winter press week. We're all hustling up and down stairs, passing galleys from desk to desk, having last-minute brainstorms and last-minute panic attacks. For the most part, though, magazine production runs like a well-choreographed football play: Everyone knows what he or she needs to bring to the table to make the group effort successful. There are hiccups here and there, sure - but generally, the process is remarkably smooth.
It's been well-reported that this is my first publishing job. Though I've been working as a freelance writer for several years (and more recently, as a freelance designer), it's true that this is my first time working on the other side of the publishing equation. There's been a pretty steep learning curve associated with it: a whole new industry to learn the ins and outs of, beyond the usual new-job bumps and curveballs. But it's been fascinating, as well - I'm a knitter first, and it took a long time for me to stop geeking out over how cool it is to learn how a knitting magazine works. As we close this issue, I thought I'd share a little bit about the long, long road to press day.
Here's how the timeline works:
7 months out: We concept the issue, developing loose themes for refining later. I'm very focused on making the most of the new format, and finding out what we can do with it - one thing we're trying is structuring the garment "stories" around constructions, techniques, or fibers, with articles that further illuminate the topic. Taken together, they read as little explorations into what a knitter can do with a particular knitting technique, type of sweater, or type of yarn - samplings of the depth and breadth of possibility in handknitting. At this stage, we come up with ideas for story/article pairings that might work - linen yarns? Allover lace? Color work for the summertime? - and send out storyboards to guide and inspire contributors.
Working this far out has a whole host of peculiar problems and challenges. For one thing, it's just plain strange to plan a summer issue when the leaves are falling off the trees, or a winter issue when it's just beginning to warm up and you don't want to think any further than the first jump in the pool. For another, it's scary to take a gamble on what might be hot - color, fiber, silhouette, and knitting-wise - when the magazine finally hits the newsstands half a year later. We do get some help in the form of color, fabric and shape forecasts from the fashion industry, but there's a lot of legwork involved as well: we scour runway shows (what's big in couture one season will trickle down to ready-to-wear by the next year or so), keep up-to-date on emerging fibers, stay current with blogs and web communities. This isn't to say that we're trend-driven, per se: We want our magazine to feel fresh, but to be full of projects that'll be wearable for seasons to come. It can be a hard line to walk!
A few months out: Design submissions come back, and we select projects that we think will be fun to knit, as well as wearable. We look for designs that make great knitting sense: that can mean a perfect marriage of yarn and shape; or elegant ways of solving potential problems; or wonderful details; or unique, effective constructions; or clever ways of incorporating traditional techniques or patterns...it can mean a lot of things. We rework and fine-tune the stories and themes at this point to reflect the best of what we received, contact designers, and order yarns.
To be continued!
Edit: Here's a terrible cell phone cam photo of "my" press day cube (I come to CO for a week or a week and a half for every press day, and camp out in this cube in the
Knits office):
The wall to the left has covers from
Gifts and Fall pinned up, and possible Winter covers in the corner. Below those is the Winter issue's map - the giant puzzle organizing editorial and ads in every issue - and the desk is piled with folders containing the most current version of every spread in the magazine. Not pictured: Me, slightly hyperventilating and with crazy eyes.
When I first started blogging two years ago, I had no idea what I was getting into - I just dove right in. Now, I have a better idea of what blogging can do, the enormous community it makes you a part of, the power and reach of words on the web, and am finding the composition of this first post to be just a
little intimidating. What should I write about?** Where on earth should I begin? Should I talk about the Fall issue, hitting newsstands as we speak? Or the shoot I'm in the thick of planning? What I've been knitting? What's coming up in the next few issues? There are so many things to tell you about!
I'll start, though, with the Fall issue. Today's the newsstand date, though subscribers began receiving their copies at the beginning of August. It's true that I'm enormously excited about it both professionally - it's the first issue of the magazine I've had a hand in - and as a knitter, but also true that I'm on pins and needles about what you guys will think! For me, there are several projects I'm seriously having to strain myself from casting on for right away - Pam Allen's Counterpane Pullover is calling my name, as is Carrie Hoge's Leavened Raglan. Jared Flood's Cobblestone Pullover looks like just the right thing to curl up in on a chilly day. And Norah Gaughan's brilliant Tilted Duster - the cover project - continues to boggle my mind with its elegant, puzzle-like construction. So far, I think that's been my favorite part of this job - being exposed to the incredible ideas that our contributors bring to the table. As a sometime designer myself, I'm awed and excited by the innovative constructions and shapes I see, the reimaginings of classics, the effective use of just one or two simple stitches to create something wonderful. It's humbling, of course, but it's also inspiring.
In particular, I'm especially intrigued by how effective simple, small-footprint textures can be when used over a large area or as an allover fabric. The knitting story that begins on page 48 is titled "The Minimalist Knits," and it's all about knits that make use of the play between knits and purls, slipped stitches and yarnovers. Who would have thought that reverse stockinette and 1x1 rib could look as fresh together as they do in Wenlan Chia's Belle Cardigan?
Or that the simplest slip-stitch pattern - linen stitch - would have so much impact when used in carefully controlled areas of Kate Gilbert's clean-lined Cinnibar Pullover?
And I think the, well, Minimalist's Cardigan by Ruthie Nussbaum pretty much speaks for itself.
This is a new discovery for me - I seem to always be knitting busy things (forgetting that rarely does busier mean better). But now...something about small-repeat textures - moss stitch and ribbing and linen stitch and garter and even stockinette and its reverse - something about them really tickles my knitting fancy. I think it's because with these stitches, the process and the product are so intertwined, so integral to each other - the beauty of the finished product is all about the knitting itself, the actual loops of yarn that build into a fabric. They showcase the inherent loveliness of knitted fabric in such a direct, clean, unfussy way - I'm completely enchanted.
My rambling has, I guess, gotten me to this conclusion: knitting is, in a way, an intensely intimate craft. It's wonderful to think that there's something you might discover or rediscover at any moment. A slight sideways change in perspective, a single project or technique or fiber - and suddenly, an ancient art can seem brand-new again. Have you ever had a Knitting Epiphany?
**My working plan for this new blog is to treat it like an extended editor's letter - to point out and further explore cool patterns, techniques, stitches, themes, fibers, etc. - and to talk about My Life With Interweave. Feedback is always appreciated!
Yes!
Testimonials