Most people will have heard of the male name Viggo. At least when paired with the surname Mortensen. He said in an interview that the name Viggo is considered somewhat dorky in his Dad’s native Denmark. The surname is just plain fairly common as are most surnames ending in -sen.
It seems the name Viggo is on the rise in popularity though. One of “my” cub scouts bears it and I recently found out my sister likes it. The reason for my discoveryis that her daughter, my niece, is pregnant, and my sister suggested the name.
An ultrasound showed that she’s carrying a girl. The name does however have a female counterpart: Vigga.
And that’s what I call this pattern:
I’m not done with it – it’s going to be a baby blanket. Right now it’s VIP. Vigga In Progress.
And the colour scheme? Her due date is the fifth of November, known to any Brit as bonfire day to commemorate the discovery of the gunpowder plot led by Guy Fawkes before they had time to blow up the Parliament and upheave alle order in the UK. Hence the red, orange and yellows.
I write. Not just this blog (and another one in Danish) but also fiction. Sometimes I write non-fiction too when I describe some of the patterns et c. I make for various craft projects.
And when you write you get – at least some people get – the notion that someone might want to publish your writing. So you send off a manuscript to veraous publishers, big and small.
And then you wait. Watch your mail box for at least an auto-reply that tells you that your heart and soul reached their destination. And you wait some more.
From time to time you loose patience, often as not only to wish you didn’t because the long-awaited answer is a refusal.
And then just once in a while you get a chance. This just happened to me even if it was in disguise: I wrote up descriptions with lots of snaps of a select number of patchwork patterns and looked for publishers specialising in the field. Then I wrote to those publishers. Finally I posted in a patchwork group on Facebook if others had good suggestion of “never fail always good books” from a specific publisher.
That was when chance entered the equation. A group member with a shop wrote to me because she could well want to sell my patterns in her shop.
The lesson I learned from this? Just the usual: Timing is what makes chances occur.
Do you know the feeling? You found all your patchwork material, spread it over half the living room and cut piece after piece for a specific project.
Then the minute you sigh and begin to re-fold everything to put it away you think of other patterns. Leave the mess, take up pencil and paper – in my case a standard checkered pad – and begin to draw. Come up with brilliant ideas. Or remember old and equally brilliant ideas not yet put into colours and cloth.
Lean back with sketches on the pad, smile to yourself and fetch the thick paper used for clich´s and begin to cut those. And then finally go on to cut the material for those patterns.
That’s what I did this past week. Well, not all of it, some of it. And now that I finally put all the material away to stop myself getting further ideas I have not only the 468 pieces for my Mum’s bedspread but also 2X5 for two canters, 15 pieces for one experimental pattern, 11 pieces for another experiment and finally 177 pieces for a square pattern. Because I stopped myself before I began to cut a hexagon cliche’e which would have meant countless other pieces.
Oh and did I mention I always hand-sew? Seems I have my work cut out for me very literally.