When I was a freshman in college I lived for a while in what felt like a time warp. I kept running into people I’d known as a kid, or who were best friends with people I hadn’t seen or heard from in years. A new friend told me it was karma—that elements of my life were spiraling back to me, as they would forever. It’s a mental image that pops into my head whenever I’m, say, at a dinner party here in Vancouver and I discover the woman across from me went to my high school in upstate New York, though we didn’t know each other then. I’ve never really considered things in my life to end, even though I have a tendency to bounce from thing to thing and to the casual observer those things might not seem related.

So now you have some groundwork and I’ll just jump in:

I’m stepping down as editor of Interweave Crochet. And—though unrelated to that decision—I have sold CrochetMe.com to Interweave.

Is it egomaniacal of me to assume you need a sec? It might be. I’ve been anticipating your reaction to this news for a while, now.

There’s more about the CrochetMe.com sale at, you guessed it, CrochetMe.com. In short sum: I have neither the money nor the creative energy to give the site and its community what they deserve. It took several months for the eMedia VP at Interweave to convince me that selling to them would be best for the site, and I now wholeheartedly believe it to be true. I’ll remain involved with the site and the community, both for high-level planning with Interweave and by blogging. (And since I haven’t blogged there regularly these last couple of years, it might end up seeming like I’m even more a part of the site than I have been of late.)

Now, for the magazine. Back in May, I think it was, I waxed poetic and enthusiastic about how perfect my job was for me. About how I was meant to be an editor, about how much satisfaction I took from almost all aspects of my work. I should have seen that as a telltale sign, but I didn’t. I should have seen it because, looking back, I have always felt that way before discovering that I no longer love my work. I felt that way before changing my major in university. I felt that way before I quit grad school the first time. But what I’ve come to understand is that I’m not actually a quitter with a short attention span. Oh, no, I. am. not.

I’m a starter. I’m a brainstormer. I’m a novelty junkie. I’m like a professional enthusiast. And when I get to the point that I love my work because I’ve come to fully understand it, I bask for a short while (a very short while), and then I wake up one day and I feel, quite literally and out of the blue, like I’m going to DIE. And so I woke up one morning this past summer and felt like my ankles were shackled to blocks of concrete. I lost my motivation. I became depressed. And I realized in August that I was feeling those things because I was no longer stimulated by my work. It wasn’t new to me anymore; I wasn’t learning all the time; I had accomplished most of what I’d set out to do. I was, worst of all, bored.

I recognize that you might not be able to relate to what I’m describing. I used to flog myself for being different. Why can’t I just do a regular job like everyone else? Why can’t I just be happy?

But really, I can totally be happy. I’m happy when I’m learning; it’s one of the things I do best. I’m happy when I’m working with creative people. I’m happy when I’m creating something new to solve a problem that’s exciting to solve. I’m happy saying, “Why the hell not?” I’m happy saying, “Just because nobody else is doing it doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be done.”

I will be ending my work on the magazine just before the holidays, during the editing stage of the spring ’09 issue. Over the next couple of weeks I’ll be assigning the projects for the summer ’09 issue, and the new editor (yet to be determined) will take over from there. I’m excited to see what a new editor will do with the magazine that only two years ago didn’t yet have an identity of its own.

And what will I get up to come the new year? Frankly, I’m hoping you’ll help with that. My freelance wish list:

  • I want to work in social media.
    Want to explore how to use online social media to build your business? Want to start a blog? Need advice? Email me.
  • I want to write more, both about crafts and about other stuff.
    Need stuff written? Email me.
  • I want to explore media production online—text, audio, video.
    Want to experiment? Email me.
  • I want to make things with people who are passionate, smart, and creative.
    Are you? Email me.
  • I want to entertain people and spread fun and laughter and joy.
    You, too? Email me.

Too vague? That’s intentional. I want to work hard and I also want to be free enough to seize opportunities when they come up, both in the yarn world and outside it. So I’m throwing it all out there and, to exploit the cliché, I’m looking forward to seeing what comes back.

And so I don’t see things as ending now, or as beginning. I see them as spiralling around.