Before the holidays, things were getting a little out of control in Kris Percival’s small Brooklyn apartment.

The teacher-turned-knitting-guru had a yarn problem. Balls of wool took up the entire space under her couch. Her bookshelves were stuffed. And she and her husband, Doron Gura, are about to add a baby to the already-crowded flat.

“Actually, we’re hoping to move to a larger place,” she said. “I’m trying to get my yarn stash under control.”

Her sister came to visit and used “tough love” to help, making her cut down on her yarn supply. Percival teaches an after-school program in New York City’s Chinatown, and she showed many of her students how to knit, so she gave them yarn as prizes for good work. For Christmas, she made about 30 pairs of mittens for members of her family. Now when she knits, she makes herself use yarn she has at home, which fits into a 3-by-3-foot space on a bookshelf.

“It’s not that bad now,” she said.

Most knitters have a yarn drawer, full of impulse buys, sweater leftovers and grandma’s hand-me-downs. But Percival has an excuse for hers: research. The Maine native recently wrote her first book, “Knitting Pretty,” which Chronicle Books released this month.

“Knitting Pretty” includes 30 patterns, from the expected hats, scarves and mittens to the surprising and modern cell phone holder and beer cozy – to keep your hand warm while drinking an ice-cold beer. Aimed at the young, beginning knitter, the book has easy-to-follow instructions and a lighthearted tone that mirrors Percival’s own personality.

“I don’t like to read directions – I do it as I go along,” she said. “I hate fancy designs. I just like really plain, basic, minimalist kinds of things.”

Her penchant for practicality stems from her childhood in “the wool-steeped wilds of Maine,” as the press release for “Knitting Pretty” states. Percival, 35, grew up in Andover, a small town between Bethel and the Canadian border. The winters were long and snowy, so she spent a lot of time indoors, sewing, doing crewel work and other crafts.

She didn’t knit as a girl, but her Aunt Babe, whose real name was Lillian, would make “plain Maine” sweaters, hats, mittens and scarves for the family.

“She’s my knitting idol,” said Percival.

It shows. When writing her book, she aimed for “practicality, warmth and simplicity.” She dislikes fussy embellishments and bulky yarns. And while she developed patterns for each item in the book, she hesitates to call them designs.

“They’re so simple, they’re so basic, I thought it would be presumptuous to say

I designed it,” she said.

Percival didn’t set out to be a knitting authority. In fact, she only learned to knit five or six years ago, while she was home for Christmas break. She got really sick, and while she was recovering, her father’s girlfriend taught her how to knit.

“I picked it up really quickly and just kept going with it,” she said.

She moved to Brooklyn after earning her master’s in film from Ohio University in Athens, and by day, she worked as a film publicist. But she would knit the night away while watching TV or reading. Her husband thought her designs were so good that he brought them to a local boutique, Butter, to see if the owner wanted to carry Percival’s hats and scarves. She did, and she also gave Percival advice on how to approach other stores, but she didn’t think she was ready.

Her husband did, and when Percival went to work, he called Barney’s, the upscale Manhattan department store, to see if they would sell her designs.

“He left a message – a lame message,” she said, laughing. “I said, ‘I’ve gotta call them back, this is horrible.’ ”

The buyer at Barney’s liked what he saw – the Skating Scarf and Sculpted Hat from “Knitting Pretty” – and sold them for more than $100 apiece. Around the same time, she went to visit a friend in San Francisco who worked for Chronicle Books. Percival brought her some knitted items as a gift and told her about the Barney’s order. Her friend told her that Chronicle had been looking for someone to write a beginning knitting book.

“This is all a story of other people pushing me,” she said.

So she sent in a proposal and some knitting samples, and the rest, as they say, is history.

“It’s a total shock,” she said.

These days, she’s more likely to be knitting baby booties and tiny Norwegian sweaters than, say, a beer cozy, but she still loves to knit. In fact, she feels like she’s wasting time if she’s watching TV and not doing some type of handcraft. And she’s come a long way in the six years since that fateful Christmas trip to Maine.

“I just sent Dad a pair of mittens,” Percival said. “He said, ‘I held them up to a pair of Aunt Babe’s and you’re getting there.'”