Shall we knit a story?
Yesterday morning, on Streetlife, the local community social network site, one of my neighbours suggested people look out for the yarn bombing at a nearby railway station. I wasn’t sure what yarn bombing was but didn’t imagine it was anything too sinister if she’d recommended it on Streetlife. As a writer, my first thought on the word ‘yarn’ was ‘story’, not wool, but it turns out to be knitting or crochet work that is surreptitiously displayed on statues, street furniture etc – similar to graffiti but made of wool. I had heard of the practice and had even seen a half-hearted attempt on a lamp post near where I live but I didn’t know it was called ‘yarn bombing’. I looked it up and apparently, there are quite a few names, including guerrilla knitting, urban knitting, yarn storming etc. and it may have started when knitters wanted to use up left over wool.
And then it occurred to me. Why should knitters have all the fun? If you are a writer, I bet you have words left over after you’ve written a story. I have lots of them.
So, let’s do the literary version of yarn bombing, which may or may not become known as ‘Stealth Stories’, (although it’s very unlikely this idea hasn’t been thought of before and already named). Never mind, don’t let that stop us.
All you have to do is put some of your spare words together to follow the previous bit of writing. Imagine someone has knitted their bit and then you join your spare length of wool to theirs and carry on knitting until the wool finishes. Leave enough for someone to tie their wool to. Please only use clean wool! And don’t forget to put in a link to the book from which the words are left over.
Anyway, as I’m into de-cluttering and saving space at the moment, I have plenty of words to spare. None of the following appears in any of my stories, other than the characters, so feel free to knit loosely, or tightly as you follow on. Here goes:
Amelia looked up at the swallows flying round the bell tower.
“Will man ever fly?” she asked, glancing at Daffodil, to see if she knew.
“Don’t be so foolish!” said Edmund rudely, “Still what would you expect from a girl? Of course men won’t fly! Look at us,” he flapped his arms, ” Any idiot can see we’re not built for flight!”
Daffodil couldn’t say she knew man would fly but nevertheless, she sprang to Amelia’s aid “Well, perhaps man will build a machine…”
The sound of Edmund’s laughter rang out across the hill (NOT from ‘Daffodil and the Thin Place’ )
“What’s that terrible noise?” asked Crispin, adjusting the backpack strap, which was biting into his shoulder.
“Do you think it was a wild animal?” asked Sylvester, swinging round to check the undergrowth.
“The only wild animal round here, is Gusty Bob and thankfully, we’ve managed to put some space between him and us. He’s still at the bottom of the hill,” said Crispin, wiping the sweat out of his eyes.
“I wouldn’t be too sure,” said Sylvester, wrinkling his nose, “you know what he does when loud noises surprise him.”
Crispin looked up and watched the green cloud falter in the breeze, then gather speed up the hill.
“Run!” shouted Crispin “Or hold your nose. Or both!” (NOT from ‘The Sweet Smell of Success”)
If you’d like to find out more about ‘Daffodil and the Thin Place’, click here
If you’d like to read the short story about Crispin, Sylvester and Gusty Bob, click here
If you’d like to find out more about the Teddies for Tragedies, which are knitted with love, for children in third world countries, (see photo) click here Check out the top two links for downloading the Teddies pattern and the Clown pattern