Pierre the Penguin courtesy of The Wobbles

Living Madly: New Tricks

By Emilie-Noelle Provost

Learning a new skill can be difficult, especially if you’re an adult. This is true even for people who are enthusiastic about learning something new. One of the reasons for this, I think, is that by the time most of us are adults, we’re used to being pretty good at the majority of things we do. We expect of ourselves a certain level of competence whether we’re taking on a task we’ve accomplished a thousand times or one we’ve only watched another person do in an instructional video on YouTube.

Logically, we know that, regardless of age, people who are in the process of acquiring a new skill make mistakes, often a lot them. We give encouragement and advice to kids learning to ride bikes and play violins based on this knowledge. But it’s hard for most adults to allow themselves the luxury of being terrible at something, even if we know our lack of proficiency is temporary, even if we understand that making mistakes helps us improve.

So, if you’re thinking about taking up woodworking or learning how to speak French, I’d like to offer the following advice: Make peace with the idea that you’re going to suck before you even start. Once you’re mentally prepared to be bad at something, you’re practically invincible. It makes it much easier to learn.

I know a lot about this because last October, I taught myself how to crochet. It was a skill I’d always wanted to learn but I’d never gotten around to it.

Growing up, I’d watched my mother and other women crocheting hats and blankets and those little Barbie doll skirts people used to hide extra rolls of toilet paper in the 1970s. The yarn seemed to fly through their hands with breathtaking speed. And, like magic, a functional thing would somehow begin to appear before them. It was not something I felt capable of doing.

Early last year, I came across one of those crochet kits that provide the materials and instructions to make a small three-dimensional animal in the craft store. “For absolute beginners! Anyone can do it!” the package promised. So, I chose a penguin, pulled out my credit card, and took the kit home.

The crochet kit sat in a cabinet in my office until October, when I took it out, read the brief instructions provided, watched a few of the how-to videos that are supposed to teach you how to crochet the penguin, and walked away from the whole thing feeling utterly defeated.

The instructional videos made very little sense. I couldn’t figure out how to get the yarn to stay on the hook. There was no way Pierre the Penguin was coming to live at my house.

A day went by and I started to think that maybe my brain and the instructional videos just weren’t compatible. I’m the sort of person who needs instructions written out step by step on paper, from beginning to end, in order to understand them. So, I went back to the craft store, bought a cheap skein of yarn, a better crochet hook, and a book called Crocheting for Beginners. The book contained large color photographs and very detailed instructions. After forty minutes, I had crocheted a foot-long hot pink chain. Not a penguin, but it was something.

Day after day, I kept at it. The first square I crocheted was more like a trapezoid. I accidentally made a tiny hat, possibly fit for a hamster, the first time I attempted to crochet a flat circle. My second circle attempt looked sort of like a sweater for a cucumber. When I couldn’t figure out how to make a new stitch or why I wasn’t able to keep my rows even, I’d watch videos or visit crochet websites online.

By late November, I’d made my first hat, which I gave to my daughter for her birthday. She actually wore it in public, so I decided it was probably OK. I made more hats in different styles, with different kinds of yarn. I threw a few of them directly into the trash. Others, I donated to clothing drives and homeless shelters: If they weren’t perfect, at least they were warm.

I crocheted a few more hats for Christmas gifts. I also crocheted washcloths, scarves, ear warmers decorated with fancy flowers, dish-drying mats, granny squares. The more of stuff I made, the nicer it started to look.

I’m now in the process of making a six- by seven-and-a-half-foot blanket, large enough to cover a twin-size bed. I’ve been working on it for a few months. Whenever I look at the progress I’ve made on it, I think: This is pretty nice, and a year ago, I didn’t even know how to crochet. It’s a good feeling.

I still haven’t crocheted Pierre, but one of these days I might, if only to thank him for inspiring me to learn something new.

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Emilie-Noelle Provost (she/her) – Author of The River Is Everywhere, a National Indie Excellence Award, American Fiction Award, and American Legacy Award finalist, and The Blue Bottle, a middle-grade adventure with sea monsters. Visit her at emilienoelleprovost.com.