Some friends wanted a consistent weekly local knitting and crochet group and thought I’d be a good fit as facilitator and technique problem solver.
I resisted. I’ve taught individuals my entire career. I’ve done a few workshops here and there, but could I handle a group? I wasn’t sure. Then I realized for nearly a year, I’ve been working with my synagogue’s sisterhood and performing a similar role when we meet Thursday mornings to work on blankets to be donated to local children’s hospitals.
So I pulled out one of my go-to notebooks, a composition book I picked up at a back-to-school sale a while back, and began to list all the things. Why I couldn’t do it, why I could. What things I needed to sort first, what things could wait. It all came out in a jumble. During one session, I emptied a fountain pen and went through most of a ballpoint. A picture began to emerge: I could facilitate the group.
I went and spent more time with my friends, we talked a lot (and knit too) and eventually came to a consensus on a day, time, and possible locations. I sent some texts further afield to gauge interest. Based on the “yes, maybes” I got back, I set up a booking page and just jumped in before I got cold feet.
Was I ready? Not really. Did I have everything figured out? Definitely not.
The first service I used for signups hides key features behind premium services. We’re just starting out and I’m not yet confident in myself, so I switched to another lower cost one. The first time I set up an event with the new service, something went wrong. Only one person could sign up, even though there were multiple slots available. I spent hours trying to figure out what I’d misconfigured, to no avail. Eventually I gave up, created a new event with a minor tweak, and it seems to work now.
What’s interesting is I’m told I’m organized and efficient. I definitely don’t feel that while I battle tech and try to put systems in place!
But the group is happening. This week, barring any changes from mother nature we’ll meet for the third time. Our area saw more snow than we’ve seen in a long while yesterday, and it’s going to be very cold the rest of this week. I’m hopeful we’ll be able to get together.
I take the same approach with my notebooks. For quick captures and brain dumps, I often reach for cheap composition books from back-to-school sales and whatever marking instrument I grab. Maybe it’s a fountain pen, but it could be a pencil, a cheap ball point, or a marker. Nothing is fancy. It doesn’t matter if my handwriting gets messy, ideas come out half-formed, or words have creative spelling. This is for me and I’m more likely to get the thoughts out if I’m not worried about wasting expensive paper.
Sometimes I do want to use something nicer. I love my Rhodia Rhodiarama notebooks, and they’re worth every penny for certain projects. But not everything needs the smooth paper that I fell in love with over 30 years ago.
Having tools that I can both rely on and that I’m not intimidated by lets me kick perfectionism aside and focus on doing. The booking page doesn’t need to be gorgeous; it needs to let people sign up1 (hopefully I’ve fixed that). The brain dump doesn’t need to be legible to anyone but me; it needs to get the clutter out of my head.
Done beats perfect. Started beats someday.
Note: This is a 2026 revision of a post first published in 2017.
- Interested in joining this fiber arts group? Please let me know and I’ll add you to the list. See more imperfection in action: I haven’t built the supporting pages yet. ↩︎