Maggie Sefton
Maggie Sefton
Meet Maggie
Knitting Mysteries
Meet Kelly
short stories
knitting mysteries Knitting Mysteries
       A Deadly Yarn

       Needled to Death

       Knit One, Kill Two

Kelly Flynn and all her friends "walked on stage" in August, 2003. In the twenty-plus years I've been writing fiction, that's how all of my characters first appear in my imagination. They don't ask. They don't sit quietly and hope I'll find them. They simply walk on stage and introduce themselves, then proceed to tell me their stories. Along the way, various other characters walk up and interrupt, elbowing each other aside. They can be a pushy lot, as each one vies for my attention. Eventually, they settle down and the tale begins to take shape.

But Kelly and her friends might never have appeared on stage at all if I hadn't first "fallen down the rabbit hole."

By January of 2003, I had already completed my first mystery novel featuring a realtor amateur sleuth and had sent it to my wonderful agent, Jessica Faust, to submit to publishers. Meanwhile, I began working on some intriguing non-fiction projects targeted for possible magazine articles. One project involved interviewing knitters about how knitting had affected their lives and relationships.

I had plenty of friends who were knitters. Some were experts and regularly produced beautiful knitted items. Others created fabric art that hung on their walls. But, me? I didn't knit a lick. Never had. I'd sewn a lot when I was younger, but had stopped sewing years earlier when writing fiction captured me. After interviewing my knitting friends, I sought out more personal stories for the article. I needed more knitters. Fortunately, I didn't have to think long about where to find them. Every knitting friend I knew had told me about this wonderful yarn shop in town. I called the friendly owner, and she immediately invited me to visit and join them "around the table" where the knitting groups always gathered.

When I entered the shop, however, I almost didn't make it to the knitting table. As soon as I opened the door and stepped inside, I knew I'd entered another world—one I never knew existed. And just like Kelly, I fell down the rabbit hole. Color was everywhere—tumbling out of shelves in fat skeins, draped across tables and cabinets in rainbow rivers. Texture, both crunchy and sinfully soft, tempted me from all sides. Everything begged to be touched. Again, just like Kelly, I dove in and indulged myself—sinking my hands into piles of silk and wool, cotton and mohair, alpaca and combinations of them all.

When I finally reached the table, I met knitters young and old, women and men, as well as spinners and weavers. A very diverse mix. Not only did I get enough interviews for my article, but I also had a great time visiting with them. So much so, that I returned the next week and the next, finally succumbing to the overwhelming urge to learn this fascinating and centuries-old craft. About three months later, Kelly Flynn walked on stage. Her friends were close behind. I hope you'll take a moment to visit them in the Meet Kelly section.

Meanwhile, I'm still down the rabbit hole. Furthermore, I have no intention of leaving. I'm having entirely too much fun.


Maggie Sefton: Knitting Mysteries