How I Accidentally Became a Knitwear Designer
- midnightmamaknits
- Jul 24
- 4 min read
Updated: Jul 26
Designing my first knitting pattern wasn’t part of some master plan — it started quietly, with a skein of yarn and a technique I wanted to learn. I have spent years making beautiful things from other designers’ patterns and still do - everyday. But as I was learning this new technique, I found myself wondering: What if I made something that was completely mine? Out of my own crazy brain? Something I might want to share with the world?
The Design That Started It All
The project wasn’t anything big or elaborate. It was a headband — simple, functional, and something I like wearing. I had 2 skeins of OOAK yarn from a fiber festival that I wanted to use, so I started playing with stitches, widths, and fit until it finally felt right. Not groundbreaking, but it worked. It was cozy without being bulky, stylish but still straightforward— especially for newer knitters or anyone needing a quick project. The more I worked on it, the more it felt like something others might enjoy too. So I got to work.
Writing It All Down (A Lesson in Letting Go)
What I didn’t expect was how hard it would be to actually write the pattern down — and get it just right. The creative side of designing came easily: choosing textures, playing with proportions, making something that felt good in my hands. But translating all that into clear, accurate instructions? O...M...G....
I found myself rewriting the same line three or four times, second-guessing my word choices and how the stitches were supposed to be written - questioning whether it would make sense to someone who didn’t live inside my head. I wanted it to be perfect — not just technically correct, but simple... readable... enough that someone might finish the project and be really happy with the result.
Balancing creativity with clarity was a challenge in itself. I’d seen enough patterns to know there were certain sections you needed to include — materials, gauge, abbreviations, notes — but there wasn’t exactly a universal template to follow. Just a lot of “this is kind of how it’s done… probably.” That, combined with my perfectionist tendencies? Ugh.
I kept asking myself: Does this sound like me? But also… does it make sense? That push and pull — between wanting it to be engaging and approachable while still being clear and correct — is something I still wrestle with every time I sit down to write.
When the Pattern Meets the Testers
Of course, designing was just one part of the process — running a test knit was a whole different ball game. I knew I needed people to knit the pattern, catch mistakes, and offer honest feedback… but beyond that? I wasn’t even sure what I was really looking for in a tester. I just knew I couldn’t do it alone.
Thankfully, I had a few kind, knit designer friends who stepped in and gently showed me the ropes — how to ask for help (not my strong suit), what to include in a call, and how to connect with people who might actually want to knit this thing. With their encouragement, I put together a post and hit 'share'.
To my surprise — people signed up — and that test knit? It nearly broke me. (More on that soon.)
Releasing My Pattern Into the World
Publishing that first pattern felt huge - and honestly - terrifying. Writing out the instructions was just one piece of it. Then came everything else: formatting the document, figuring out how to put it on Ravelry and my website, choosing the right photos, deciding on a price… and hoping all the links actually worked. And right about there - was where the anxiety hit...
Oh, the anxiety.
“What if no one buys it?”
“What if I missed a huge mistake?”
“What if someone leaves a bad review?”
The fear was real. I’ve never been immune to that little voice that whispers you’re not good enough — and when you attach price tags to your creativity, that voice gets louder. I had to remind myself (many times) that this wasn’t about being perfect. It was about sharing something I made with care. Whether 2 people or 200 people downloaded it, I was proud. I was being me and doing what I was excited about. And that is enough.
Even now, after multiple pattern releases, I’m still figuring it all out. Do I offer a discount at launch? For how long? How many posts is too many? What’s enough to get the word out without annoying people — or overwhelming myself?
Designing knit patterns is a mix of logistics and emotion (more emotion imho). It's part checklist, part vulnerability. I don’t think I’ll ever feel like I have it completely “right,” but I’m learning with each design.
Knit. Purl. Design. Repeat. (Why I Keep Designing)
Despite the nerves, the learning curve, and the occasional imposter syndrome, I keep designing because it’s fun. It pushes me creatively, gives me an outlet from all the chaos of life, and it connects me with people in a way that feels real and inspiring.
Watching someone else knit one of my designs — in their yarn, their colors, their style — is the coolest feeling and it will never get old.
Every design teaches me something new. Each pattern feels like a small step forward. And honestly? I feel like I’m only just getting started.
Crafting through chaos,
Stacie
A Little Extra...
If you like the design you see and want to knit one yourself, you can get the Brioche Twist Headband Pattern here.
Not a knitter? I got you covered! You can get your very own Brioche Twist Headband here.
Don't see your colour? Send me a message and I will work with you to custom make your headband.
