This year, two well-stocked needlework shops in the Netherlands closed. My local is struggling. Rents are high, margins low and customers dwindling. I am apprehensive about handwork’s future.

In this age of word processing, computer graphics, Facebook, and Twitter, needlework is acquiring the status of calligraphy: admired by many, practiced by few, used infrequently. This drift began back in 1872, when Princess Helena, Queen Victoria's daughter, founded the Royal School of Needlework (RSN) to ensure that old techniques were passed on. Annually, the RSN graduates four embroiderers who have completed a three-year course in 30 techniques. Over 40 years it trains 160 embroiderers in the UK who achieve “high standard” skills to pass on. Counting students who get "certificates" in individual techniques, there are more trained embroiderers.

But these numbers will not ensure a future for needlework shops and thread manufacturers. A broader following needs to develop. I started needlework as a child with my mother. After elementary school, this skill got hidden under a bushel until I was in graduate school working on a thesis. Too tired to read another book or type another page, I picked up wools and canvas just to turn off the brain. I joined the labour force at a time when it was hip for "professional women" to do needlework. In the days before laptops and terrorist threats, businesswomen in "men's jobs" carried needlepoint projects in totes bag on planes. The tote bag was a status symbol. The needlework helped us to retreat from the minutiae of project management both in the office and at home. Fast forward. Add husband and child to the career mix, and there was no more time for self, let alone embroidery. But, eventually, kids morph into teenagers. As I waited for mine to return from a late date, I picked up embroidery again. Now that I am an empty nester, I have time for needlework and welcome the creativity and new connections it gives me.

So what can we do to keep needlework alive? First, we must find ways to get the younger generation interested. Not easy, as you may know. Both my mother and I tried to teach my daughter stitching. She loves my work --which is at least something-- but she will not pick up a needle, even to sew a button. I lost that one. But I have a replacement. My stitching fascinates my husband's granddaughter (6). She sits on my lap and we work stitches together. Recently, she spent a day with me doing a piece in running stitch. I framed it for her to take home. She was chuffed by her accomplishment. I think I may have hooked this one.

This leads me to the idea that there need to be more classes or weekend activities for grandmothers and grandchildren (or aunts and nieces). Let’s not be sexist about this. I have known little boys to take an interest in embroidery. The goal is not to develop proficiency in children, but to nurture closeness between generations who share an interest. In time, the child will seek the emotional comfort of the mutual activity, even when grandmother/aunt is not there. It's like investing in music lessons. Some students join quartets and orchestras as hobbies later in life.

Then there are legions of professional women, aged 23-40, out there juggling jobs, households, and kids. They are more frazzled and overwhelmed than we were. Today they lug PCs on to planes to continue work. They never shut down, unless to sleep. When they do relax, most take care of their bodies down at the gym, rather than their souls through art.

Reaching this generation of women is a tough nut to crack. Mainly they are not "homemakers." This generation buys its home from Ikea, which provides all the elements of a tastefully styled abode, from furniture right down to graphics, picture frames, linen, and candles. Handwork not in this year's colour or themed style just doesn't fit into their scheme of things! Sometimes I feel that this generation is in the clutches of the "style police", who spread their message through the glossy home decorating magazines that have as much influence on lives as the fashion magazines do on the clothing size that fashionistas starve and exercise themselves into.

So where does that leave us? I think we have to start a craze or fad! How does a bunch of middle-aged women start a craze? We need a pop idol to make needlework cool again. The chance of getting Paris Hilton interested in embroidery is zilch. But maybe at 50, Madonna might be interested? Grace Kelly, Princess of Monaco, was an avid embroiderer. And so, I understand, is Dame Judi Dench. Do you think that Oprah could be convinced to embroider or at least to promote embroidery? I know that she commissioned much embroidery for her school outside Johannesburg. Anyone got any connections?

That brings me to Internet and Stitchamaze. As shops close on both sides of the Atlantic, there are fewer places to look for inspiration. Stitchamaze gives women worldwide access to beautiful work. Stitchamaze gives those of us who practice embroidery in isolation the opportunity to "exhibit" or "show off", depending on your point of view. That someone besides supportive family likes what I create helps to propel me forward. Stitchamaze gives me feedback. In the two years my work has been on display, I have had three women write me. One was a long-lost cousin, who was roaming the web looking for beautiful things to make with her daughter. So I think that this site is an excellent tool to keep the art of embroidery going. And with enough connections and support, we might be able to find a way to kindle that craze, start classes, and promote workshops for frazzled professionals. You never know where embroidery takes you.