Why I ALMOST Quit My YouTube Knitting Podcast
Today I’m going to share with you everything I’ve been fighting against and fighting for in my knitting podcast journey. Hopefully it will answer some questions and spread light on not only my experience, but what a lot of YouTubers know and live with in their work.
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As I sit down to write this blog post, I just finished listening to the song “Fresh Fallen Snow” by Chris Haugen. When I started my knitting podcast on YouTube 3 years ago, this was my intro song. Partly because it was free to download, and partly because its simplicity mixed with joy spoke to me.
If you’re here, I’m going to assume you know what a YouTube knitting podcast is, and have possibly heard of the Farmhouse Knitting Podcast.
When I first began the Farmhouse Knitting Podcast, I hadn’t watched a knitting podcast the full way through in a few years. Really the only one I was best familiar with was A Homespun House back when she first started. But I had seen portions of other knitting podcasts and felt called to make a podcast.
While I didn’t really know why I was supposed to make one (I didn’t really enjoy watching them, why would I make one?) I trusted where I felt I was being led. But here’s the thing. I wasn’t supposed to start another knitting podcast, I was supposed to start a different knitting podcast. But I’m human, and sometimes I have trouble listening to what God is telling me. I’m not alone in that, right?
So despite enjoying making podcasts in my flat lay knitting style without being on camera, the way I felt called and inspired to film, it wasn’t long before a little voice grew louder, telling me I’m too different from other podcasts. In order to grow I need to share lots of projects. The music needs to be like everyone else’s. Yarn hauls are to be expected. And loudest of all? I need to show my face.
So here it is, the full reasons that I disappeared from YouTube and almost quit for good. Please don’t judge too harshly.
>>Rather knit and listen to this content? Watch the video here.
We’ll start in a really messy place: my ego
Now, back up 10, 15 years and I was a competitive runner in high school and college. I thought I was something special, and idolized achievement and goal getting. I’ve also always struggled with being myself. I’m 100% myself with close family and friends, but put me in a room with other personalities and I sort of chameleon into the loudest or majority personality there is.
As soon as I put my face on camera, I became more like everyone else. I watched other YouTubers, knitting and lifestyle, and tried to emulate them. Instead of being truly obedient and keeping it about the knitting, I found a way to make it about myself. Or rather, the uncomfortable version of me acting like someone else.
Now, most podcasters are kind of about themselves. To a point, they have to be if they’re on a solo show. But I sought to boost my ego and gain praise through my knitting.
A year and a half into my knitting podcast while on vacation, my family and I entered a small knitting shop. Instead of focusing on the yarn and enjoying the lakeside view out the window, do you know what I was most preoccupied with? I wonder if anyone in here might recognize me?
My confidence
So while I kept thinking highly about myself as a podcaster from the outside, inside I was not confident in what I was doing. I’ve had trouble with confidence in myself since I dropped out of college.
This weakness really shows up on camera. I used to film with my phone camera, and seeing myself in the screen was really distracting, especially when I had to look at the screen to make sure my yarn or project was on camera. I don’t perform well in public, or it turns out, while talking on camera in a room alone.
I’m much better in visual storytelling and even a bit through writing than I am with spoken word. My confidence in myself wasn’t being helped every time I edited a video, and was revisited by all of my vocal and knitting mistakes.
Knitting podcast pressure
A quick Google search leads you to a lot of stories about YouTubers who got burnt out and quit or took a long break. Filming and editing videos, along with marketing them and creating show notes is a lot.
But to keep this knitting specific, I felt a lot of pressure around my hobby.
One example is this: how much content (knitting projects or yarn buys) to churn out each month. Either you’re doing an awful lot of knitting or spending an awful amount of money to create content each week. I was told you need to stick to a certain posting schedule to stay relevant, and don’t you dare stray from your knitting aesthetic or your videos aren’t shown. I don’t know how true all of this is, but it’s what’s being taught to YouTubers and content creators.
If all I knit that week were a few Barbie blankets for my girls, I didn’t feel like I could share it. It wasn’t a hard project and doesn’t fit what I would typically knit. I know it’s easy to see all of this from the outside and think, just knit what you want and share it when you want, or don’t. But I felt a huge amount of pressure to follow these guidelines. I also felt like any knitting I was doing wasn’t enjoyable because I was just rushing through to the end product.
Another unspoken pressure on knitting podcasters is the expectation to wear your knits on camera. I’m not a garment knitter. I knit shawls and sweaters here and there, but I certainly don’t have a whole wardrobe that wouldn’t be repeated every month on camera!
I’m a daydreamer
Honestly, the number of comments I’ve received online and in real life about how long it takes for me to tell a story is astounding. I’m totally aware that I’m a wanderer. I start talking about something that happened in one place and end up 12 towns away by the time I’m done. I don’t have a great memory and am forgetful about what yarn I use and its yardage. This is something I became really preoccupied with, but guess what? It’s who I am!
So instead of going with it and adding the info to show notes, I would chew on it in the back of my mind for the rest of the episode. Why can’t you be better organized?
Filming and editing expectations
I love creating visuals. Knitting photography, filming and editing videos, all of it. But I started to be discontent about the knitting podcast and needed it to be a show. More B-roll, more songs, then I’d have a mini movie I could be proud of.
But truthfully, the time it took to edit all of these videos is more than a homeschooling mom of 4 has. Filming became too many hoops to jump through with kids in the house. And I laughed about uploading with slow country wifi, but truthfully really struggled with getting it done sanely.
>>Check out my slow knitting playlist here.
It wasn’t long after that vacation trip to the yarn shop that I realized I had things seriously upside down and mixed up. So I kind of disappeared. I shut down creating completely. I had to spend a lot of time in prayer and with different devotionals to work through this.
Some really great resources to work through the importance of creating but not for ourselves:
- Called to Create by Jordan Raynor
- She Works His Way by Michelle Myers and Somer Phoebus
Once I got my heart set with good intentions about creating, I still thought for a while that This Yellow Farmhouse needed to go. It still felt like an idol I had let go of and couldn’t let back in my life.
What my knitting podcast hiatus taught me
I realized without my knitting business and podcast in particular, I wasn’t magically a better person. And I wasn’t a better mom. I didn’t forget my train of thought any less. God didn’t love me any more or less. In social settings, I wasn’t suddenly more confident than I’d ever been. And that helped me to see that having a business doesn’t make me a bad person.
It’s true, I felt free from the demands and the posting schedule. I didn’t rush through to knit things so that I could share them. Best of all, I had more time to design, write, and daydream. I learned about slow knitting and decluttered yarn from past seasons of my life.
And best of all? It helped me remember that this was what God called me to. Not to keep up with the Joneses. Not to make it about me, or stress over my hobby. But to share quiet moments creating something meaningful with those who need it.
The goal isn’t to be the most watched knitting podcast or best recognized knitter on the hill at Rhinebeck. It’s to share love, sharing a love of knitting through a gift given by God to the few people who need that in their life.
What’s next?
So with that being said, I haven’t quit the Farmhouse Knitting Podcast. I also don’t have a planned posting schedule. While I’m in a healthy place where I’m able to share again, I’m being kind to myself about expectations and performance.
I’ll be filming in my knitting flatlay style, and if you see otherwise please kindly remind me not to follow everyone else. Going forward, I’ll be sharing what I’m knitting as I’m knitting it, pressure free.
I’m enjoying slow knitting for the process, while giving all the glory to God. You can sign up to my email list where I’ll probably be the most active in the sharing without being too absorbed in the showing.
In the meantime, be kind to YouTube knitting podcasters. Don’t snark on their knitting mistakes, their insincerity or awkwardness on camera. Give them grace about posting schedules and even about what they want to share. YouTube is hard. Sharing is hard. Knitting can be hard. But I’m moving forward and I’m going to work His way. And my knitting moments are going to be slow and full of daydreams.
Pin It For Later:
I hope this helps explain the act of woolgathering and how we can take bits of it in today’s fiber world.
Happy knitting!
