E38 Transcript
Ever feel like you’re the last person on earth who’s actually ready to start a design project? Me too. ME TOO!
I mean, I just finished a project for myself, but it took me forever to start it. I kept hemming and hawing over the tiniest details: which scraps to use as the decorative additions? Sew it in brown or black—both look good, right? Wait… maybe I need to hunt down the perfect buttons first. No, maybe I should wait until it’s almost done and then decide. Never mind. Not sure what to do, so… let’s not do anything right now.
Have you ever done this? You know, hem and haw over a simple pattern or a small business decision because it has to be perfect before you even start? Yeah… we’ve all been there.
But it’s not your fault!
That feeling of needing to be “ready” isn’t just in your head—it’s cultural. Society has a way of telling creatives, “You must have a plan, a vision, a perfect Instagram aesthetic before you launch. Otherwise… why bother?” Business coaches, Pinterest-perfect makers, social media success stories—they all reinforce the idea that readiness is a prerequisite.
And here’s the kicker: we’ve all fallen for it. Waiting to feel ready… and sometimes waiting so long, we forget what we even wanted to start.
So, in this episode, we’re going to unravel that pressure, break down the myth of being ready, and I’m going to show you why the “never ready” feeling might actually be a secret advantage in disguise.
So today we are going to discover why “feeling ready” is mostly a mirage. And no, I’m not just being dramatic—there’s actual science behind it. Call it the neuroscience of false preparedness!
Our brains are naturally wired to crave certainty. We like to know the outcome before we act—it helped our ancestors avoid saber-toothed tigers. We have an evolutionary bias for certainty, a fear of failure, and perfectionist loops. Today? That same wiring makes us hesitate over things like cutting fabric or posting a new design, because our brains are trying to predict all the ways it could go wrong. It’s fear disguised as preparation. That “feeling ready” is actually a signal that the brain has predicted an outcome it wants to avoid being wrong about.
Picture this: your brain wants a spreadsheet of success before you even cut the fabric. Seriously. Every what-if scenario is running on loop: “Do I have the perfect fabric? What will I do if the drape doesn’t look right? What if I don’t like it?” That’s not preparation. That’s your brain avoiding the unknown.
Now don’t get me wrong—having the essentials on hand does make sense. Like cooking, you want all your ingredients on hand and ready. But you don’t need to have the entire recipe memorized, plated, and Instagram-ready before you start. In sewing and patternmaking, waiting for the “perfect moment” is less about being smart and more about avoiding risk… and missing out on the creative discoveries waiting for you once you actually begin.
Because here’s the paradox: feeling ready can actually trip you up. Yep, that cozy, confident “I’ve got it all ready, I know exactly how this is going to play out” feeling will sometimes give a sense of false confidence. You might tend to rush, overlook critical details, or completely miss those subtle moments that make a design—or a business decision—truly sing.
Let me give you an example from the studio: I was working on a jacket, and everything looked… well, “ready.” I had my fabric, my tools, my plan laid out but with a let’s see what happens kinda vibe. As I started, I realized I had assumed the fabric would behave the way it always does. Spoiler: it didn’t. If I had gone in with that false sense of readiness, I might have ignored the signs, forced it, and ended up with a very stiff, awkward silhouette. Instead, because I wasn’t “ready,” I stayed alert, noticed how the fabric wanted to move, and discovered a new fold that gave the piece much more texture and interest than I had planned.
Not feeling ready keeps you on your toes. It keeps you alert, observant, and more capable of adjusting in real time. It makes you notice the little details, pivot when necessary, and be far more responsive to the moment. You become curious instead of complacent, experimental instead of formulaic. In garment fitting or experimental fabric techniques, these moments of “unready” insight often lead to findings you’d never have made if you’d felt fully prepared. And let’s face it – if you think you have it all figured out, but it doesn’t work, you can end up in a place of disappointment instead of a place of discovery.
Here’s a thought: the next time you feel like you must be ready, ask yourself—what might I see, notice, or invent if I start before I’m ready? Often, that’s where art happens.
Here’s where things get interesting: what if we stop chasing “ready” altogether, and start aiming to be responsive instead?
Think about it: ready is a static state—it’s the illusion that you’ve got everything under control. Responsive? That’s an active state. It’s alert, engaged, curious, flexible, and willing to course-correct in real time. Ready waits. Responsive acts.
Let’s go back to my studio example. I was draping a new pattern, and the fabric was being… well, difficult. It stretched, it slipped, it fought back. It just wasn’t behaving the way I expected. If I’d been waiting to feel “ready,” I might have abandoned the project or forced it to fit my mental plan. But instead, I responded. I adjusted, experimented with folds and tucks, and ended up discovering a drape I never would have planned—and it was even better than what I’d imagined.
Responsive keeps you in the moment, noticing what’s happening and using it to your advantage, encountering things you would have never seen while wearing your “expectation blinders.” It turns uncertainty from something to fear into something to explore. That’s where most of the really interesting creative discoveries happen.
Now let's talk about the art of strategic imperfection.
Here’s the idea: starting without being “ready” isn’t a mistake—it can actually be your secret advantage. Imperfection opens the door to learning, innovation, and sometimes discoveries you couldn’t plan for if you waited for everything to feel perfect.
For example, I once began a mixed-media pattern project that, honestly, was a total mess from the start. The colors clashed, the fabric behaved unpredictably, and I ended up throwing my original plan out the window. Because I wasn’t afraid of being “wrong,” I kept playing, adjusting, exploring. Because I didn’t enter into it with a “this must work out this way” mindset, it turned into a session where the paint, the fabric and I worked together to create something. What started as a messy trial became the thing everyone asked about. The textures, the unexpected shapes, the little quirks that could have been “mistakes” at the time—were what made it unique and memorable.
Starting imperfectly isn’t just surviving—it’s thriving in a space that encourages curiosity and discovery. Sometimes, letting go of “ready” is exactly what sparks innovation.
But how do you know if you’re truly stuck or just “waiting” to be ready?
That’s where your inner signals come in. Think of them as the subtle nudges your mind and body give you—your gut tightening, your curiosity sparking, or even that little nagging thought that something isn’t quite right. These signals aren’t about fear or hesitation—they’re your internal compass helping you distinguish between real preparation and avoidance disguised as “not ready.” Real preparation includes things like acquiring the right tools, skills, knowledge or supplies.
Think of it as a quick gut check—a mini self-reflection toolkit you can pull out anytime you’re hesitating. Here are four ultra-simple questions to ask yourself before waiting any longer:
1. Am I missing a real skill, tool or other tangible supplies that would make it impossible to start this project? If yes, plan how and when to get it. If no, move forward.
2. Am I hesitating out of fear? If it’s fear, not lack of preparation, it’s usually a signal to act anyway.
3. Am I avoiding risk or learning? If you’re avoiding, that’s your brain protecting comfort, not helping progress.
4. Am I waiting for the “perfect moment”? If yes, consider whether that moment actually exists—or if starting now is the smarter move.
Fear and avoidance are internal, but sometimes you need something external to validate your gut signal. Ask yourself “What would happen if I just started?” This reframes the hesitation as a mini experiment and often reveals that the stakes aren’t as high as the brain is telling you.
These pause-and-check signals are your shortcut to knowing when “not ready” is just a mental mirage.
And that’s why it’s helpful to think of readiness as a moving target. It’s never a fixed state. Your skills evolve, your confidence grows, and the resources at your disposal change all the time. What felt impossible last week might feel entirely doable today, and what seems overwhelming now might be second nature a few weeks from now. And that comes from just trying to do it before you’re ready or know exactly how!
The key is to embrace this dynamic view of readiness. You don’t need to be “fully ready” to start—starting imperfectly gives you real information about what you don’t yet know, what surprises await, and where your blind spots are. Each action, even small, moves you forward, teaching you more than any theoretical checklist ever could. Remember those questions? Once completed, you’ll have a clear idea of where your true blind spots are and what new information you’ll be looking for to fill in the holes
Think of it like using a new fabric: the first pass isn’t perfect, but every pinch, tug, and adjustment tells you exactly how the material behaves—and what your next step should be. In other words, you’re not behind if you feel “unready”—you’re simply on a continuum, growing, adjusting, and responding as you go.
Ready isn’t a destination—it’s a moving horizon you chase as you go.
So, if readiness is a moving target, how do you actually start without feeling fully ready? This is where a systems approach comes in. Instead of relying on bursts of motivation or waiting for courage to magically appear, you build structures that let you begin, experiment, and adapt along the way.
A system isn’t about perfection—it’s about creating repeatable ways to take action that generate feedback. For example, in your fabric projects, you might:
• Set up a mini experiment station: Keep a few swatches, trims, or leftover fabrics in a “play corner” so you can test combinations or techniques in 10minute sessions, without committing to a full project. Create a mini template of a design element and test threads, beads, or stitches on scrap fabric. You’ll discover combinations you may not have thought to try on the final piece.
• Use check-in checkpoints: Rather than finishing the entire project in one go, schedule moments to pause, step back, and ask, “What’s working? What needs adjustment?”—before moving forward.
• Track discoveries: Keep a small notebook or digital log for observations—unexpected textures, pattern tweaks, color pairings that surprised you. This turns each “imperfect start” into valuable insight.
• Automate preparation: Have a standard set of tools, threads, or stabilizers ready for regular projects, so the barrier to starting is always low. Even small habits like pre-cutting swatches or organizing your buttons can remove friction and keep momentum going.
• Fabric collection and organization: Build a simple system for storing swatches, leftover trims, or buttons. Knowing what’s on hand removes friction, so starting a project is just a matter of picking a combination and seeing what happens.
The beauty of this approach is that you don’t wait for the stars to align. You start. You adjust. You notice. You learn. And you do it within a framework that keeps you moving forward without the stress of perfection.
Ready doesn’t exist. And that’s actually the good news. Starting with awareness, responsiveness, and curiosity—not a checklist of readiness—lets you grow faster, avoid pitfalls, and discover things you couldn’t see if you waited for perfect.
Here’s your minichallenge: pick one project this week—something small, unfinished—and dive in. Track what you notice, what surprises you, and what lessons show up along the way. By the end of the week, you’ll have proof that action—not perfect readiness—is what drives progress.
