Knitters all start on the quest for fiber satisfaction the same way: They forge bright-eyed into the world of wool, delighted at the thought of creating something with nothing more than some string, two sticks, and their own wits. Whether the eventual goal is purely functional, such as dish towels, or tangible expressions of affection, as demonstrated by the myriad of baby items churned out despite the knowledge that they'll only fit for a week, all knitters begin at the same place...wondering if that's really how it's supposed to look.
While it's easy enough to find instructions on the building blocks of knitting, there are certain tricks that those learning on their own simply aren't exposed to. Every book and web site goes through the same how-to-start list, but neglects to mention some fundamental truths that, if noted, would spare many a would-be knitter hours of frustration and feelings of failure.
To fill the informational hole that causes so many to falter, here's the first item from a list of Things No One Tells New Knitters.
It's The Yarn's Fault.
Like many others, when learning to knit I went to the closest big-box craft store for supplies, including yarn. With absolutely no working knowledge on fiber in any form, I chose some 100% acrylic Lion Brand Homespun. The results were disastrous, and it wasn't until much later in my knitting career that I realized it wasn't my fault. The yarn itself was of an incredibly unforgiving nature--with no elasticity, the stitches were difficult to knit, and nearly impossible to see once worked. Even now, I can't stand the stuff (sorry, Lion Brand).
To anyone preparing to embark on the knitting journey, please save yourself the trouble of a poor yarn choice. Find yourself a nice, simple, light colored wool. Turn away from the sparkling distraction of the metallic ribbon and eyelash yarns, for they lead only to heartache and despair. Wool is truly the best for learning-the natural elasticity means you won't have to fight to get your needles through the stitches, and have more play as your hands figure out the best way to keep your tension even (more on that later). Wool is also feltable--that is, given the right conditions the fiber sticks to itself. Think of a sweater that accidentally gets thrown into the dryer. It comes out smaller, and the material no longer has any individual stitch definition; it's a solid, dense mass. While this doesn't seem like a plus initially, it makes a world of difference regarding how the stitches behave. Because of that natural "clinginess", wool is less likely to slip willy-nilly from your needles. If a rogue stitch does decide to hop loose, the surrounding work tends to keep it in place while you pick it back up, rather than letting it slide all the way down (dropping a stitch creates a run that is fixable but still a pain in the tookus).
The color and texture of the yarn also makes a much bigger difference than many would suspect. A light colored, evenly spun yarn makes it much easier to "read" your knitting--that is, look at the work to see the individual stitches to check for mistakes, etc. Knobby, schlubby yarns can be fun once you understand the basics, but make it impossible to see what you're doing as you learn, and darker colors are by nature more difficult to distinguish than lighter ones. That dropped stitch mentioned earlier is infinitely easier to spot and correct if it's plainly visible rather than hidden in a sea of nubby black fuzz.
It seems so simple once it's explained that it's almost easy to understand why experience knitters wouldn't think to mention it, but for those just beginning it's a critical detail that too often goes unsaid. The difference between a truly gratifying first knitting experience and feelings of failure and defeat that could turn one away forever lies in the yarn.
So to anyone out there struggling, beating themselves up over an acrylic eyelash scarf that just doesn't seem to want to work, that refuses to look right, that fights every stitch of the way, remember: It's the yarn's fault.
