E48 Transcript
As you’re listening to this, I’m probably knee-deep in bubble wrap and portfolios, trying to remember where I put the scissors.
I’m setting up for a local art show this weekend—one of those moments that always sounds exciting until you realize it involves carrying more boxes than any one person should reasonably own.
But this episode isn’t really about how to pack a booth or display your work.
It’s about what happens in you when you decide to show up.
Because that’s the part no one really talks about—the mental prep that starts long before the lights come on or the first person stops by your table.
So let me ask you—what does showing up look like for you right now?
Maybe it’s walking into a weekend show like me.
Maybe it’s posting something you’ve made online.
Or maybe it’s just walking back into your sewing room after too long away.
However it looks, here’s what I want you to know—
Showing up creatively isn’t a one-time event. It’s a skill.
It can be learned, practiced, and refined.
Today, we’re talking about what it really takes to do that—how to manage the nerves, protect your energy, and keep your sense of self when the world gets a little noisy.
Because whether it’s a booth, a post, or a new project… the hardest part isn’t the setup.
It’s simply deciding to show up.
Here’s what nobody tells you about doing a show.
By the time the doors open, you’ve already done half the work — maybe more.
You’ve packed, prepped, priced, labeled, planned your layout, and run through every worst-case scenario in your head.
And that’s before you’ve talked to a single person.
The truth is, showing up — in any way — takes a lot of emotional energy.
It’s not just physical work; it’s visibility work.
You know that feeling when you’re about to put yourself out there?
That mix of excitement, dread, pride, and “please don’t let me forget the one thing I actually need”?
It’s the same whether you’re setting up a booth, posting your latest piece online, or finally opening your Etsy or Shopify store.
Visibility comes with a strange kind of fatigue.
Because the moment you decide to share your work, you’re not just managing logistics — you’re managing yourself.
All the what-ifs start crowding in:
What if no one shops?
What if no one clicks “like”?
What if no one buys?
What if it’s not enough?
But here’s the part we miss: that nervous energy isn’t proof that something’s wrong.
It’s proof that something matters.
That buzz you feel right before you hit “post” or open your booth?
That’s your creative energy reminding you that you care.
That this is worth your attention.
That you’ve made something meaningful, and your brain is just trying to keep up with your heart.
And even if your version of “showing up” doesn’t involve a crowd — maybe it’s a Facebook post, or a trunk show, or showing to a small group — the feeling is the same.
Visibility is a muscle.
It gets stronger every time you use it.
And yes, it still shakes a little under the weight.
Because standing there, in any form — behind a table, behind a screen, or behind a sewing machine — while your inner critic whispers, “Is this enough?” — that’s where the real courage lives.
Here’s the funny thing about showing up:
We spend weeks trying to make it look perfect… only to realize that’s not what connects with people at all.
So there’s your pro-tip number one. Stop worry about the “looks” so much. Yes, Make it look as good as you can, then go for the connection.
At every show, something goes wrong.
A tag falls off, a light stops working, a shelf tilts just enough to make you worry a little.
And no matter how much you plan, there’s always that one thing you didn’t plan for.
But that’s the myth, isn’t it?
That if we could just get everything perfectly polished — the booth, the website, the photos, the lighting — then people would finally see our work the way we hope they will.
Except it doesn’t really work that way.
What draws people in isn’t perfection — it’s presence. It’s connection. It’s the emotion in the WORK, not the table or the lighting, not the copy.
It’s the energy that says, “Hey, I’m here. I made this.”
That’s what makes someone stop and look a little longer.
And even if you’re not doing shows, you have your own “booth.”
Maybe it’s your Instagram grid, your online shop, or that one corner of your living room where your work meets the world when they come visit.
We all have a space where we quietly put our creativity out there and hope someone sees it.
And in every one of those spaces, the same truth applies:
People don’t remember spotless displays.
They remember real humans.
The ones who are excited, or nervous, or clearly figuring it out as they go.
The ones who answer questions honestly and light up when they talk about what they made.
That’s the connection people want — not polish, but presence.
Because the moment you stop trying to be perfect, you finally have enough energy left to show up as yourself — and that’s what people actually respond to.
Perfection drains energy — but authenticity? That’s what gives it back.
And that’s the thing most people don’t realize about showing up — it’s not the hours that wear you down, it’s the energy it takes to be present the whole time.
Whether it’s a weekend show, a Zoom teaching day, or just trying to keep up with posting on social, there’s a different kind of exhaustion that comes from being “on.”
Smiling, talking, explaining what you do — even when you love it — takes energy.
It’s not about being introverted or extroverted. It’s about being human.
For me, I’ve learned to think in rhythms instead of hours.
At a show, I build little micro-breaks into the day — five minutes to step outside, stretch, sip water, or just breathe without having to perform.
And at the end of each day, I have a quiet ritual that helps me recalibrate back to me.
I rearrange one small part of my booth, tidy the space, and take a few notes about the day before heading home.
It’s my way of resetting — reminding myself that the work might be public, but the purpose is personal.
And that same mindset helps when I’m showing up online.
If I have a lot of art I want to share, I batch and schedule posts all at once.
That way, I can pour my energy into being visible in one focused block instead of letting it nibble at me all week.
It keeps the creative part fun, but also protects my headspace — because the mental load of visibility is real, whether you’re behind a booth or behind a screen.
You don’t need more energy; you just need to use it intentionally.
Show energy isn’t about hype — it’s about rhythm.
Finding the pace that lets you stay present without burning out.
Because when you learn to manage your energy instead of your time, showing up stops feeling like a performance.
It starts feeling like alignment.
Let’s be honest — no matter how grounded we think we are, at some point during a show, we all glance across the aisle.
You see someone’s booth packed with people, or a display that looks effortlessly perfect, and that little voice pipes up: What are they doing that I’m not?
I still catch myself doing it, but I’ve learned to shift the question.
Instead of “Why am I not like them?” I ask, “What can I learn from them?”
What do they do that I’d love to try?
What do they do that I don’t want to do?
And is there anything about what I see that confirms I’m already doing what feels right for me?
That small mental pivot changes everything.
Because you’re not competing with them — you’re contributing to the same creative ecosystem.
Their success doesn’t threaten yours; it just shows you what’s possible.
Comparison, at its core, is just curiosity with a judgment problem.
When you remove the judgment, curiosity becomes a teacher again.
It lets you admire without envy, learn without pressure, and grow without resentment.
And here’s what I love about being part of shows like this — or even just being online in a community of makers — it’s the gathering of energy.
When we all show up, we collectively draw in the people who love handmade work, who value creativity, who get what it means to make something from nothing.
There’s strength in that shared visibility.
So, whether you’re behind a booth, posting online, or simply creating in your own space, keep showing up.
Because the more we all do, the easier it becomes for the right people to find all of us.
And that’s what keeps this creative ecosystem alive.
At the end of the day, that’s what showing up really is — it’s not just about selling, or posting, or setting up a booth.
It’s about connecting, learning, and paying attention.
When you show up, you get to see what people respond to, what lights them up, what questions they ask — and sometimes, what they walk right past.
That’s valuable information.
It teaches you more about your work than any course or class ever could.
And the truth is, there’s no shortcut for it.
I’ve tried every trick in the book to make progress without doing the uncomfortable part — but the only way to sew the project together is to sit down and sew it.
The only way to sell the work is to put it out there with a price tag on it.
You’ve got to do it.
You’ve got to do the thing.
I know that’s not the glamorous answer, but it’s the real one.
The more often you do it, the less scary it feels.
You stop waiting to feel ready and start building muscle memory — creative endurance.
And every time you show up, it gets a little easier to stay.
Showing up doesn’t have to be dramatic.
It might mean walking back into your sewing room after a long dry spell, sending that email you’ve been putting off, or finally sketching the idea that’s been sitting in your head for a month.
It’s all the same courage.
You don’t have to call it consistency or discipline or any of those productivity words that make it sound like a chore.
It’s just practice — creative practice.
And it’s what keeps you in the conversation, even when the outcome is unpredictable.
Because here’s the secret: the art of showing up is the art.
It’s where growth happens, confidence builds, and your creative voice gets stronger — one brave, imperfect showing at a time.
So, if we had to boil all this down, here’s what I hope you take away:
Showing up isn’t about perfection, performance, or having it all figured out.
It’s about energy, awareness, and courage — doing the thing, even when it’s messy or uncomfortable.
Because that’s where the real growth happens.
By the time this airs, I’ll be in the middle of my own version of showing up — surrounded by booth lights, curious strangers, and hopefully a few sales.
But honestly? The real win is that I’m there.
I showed up.
And that’s my invitation to you this week —
What does showing up look like for you right now?
Maybe it’s finally posting that project photo, reaching out to a potential collaborator, or just walking back into your creative space without expectations.
Whatever it is, see if you can do it with a little less pressure and a little more presence.
And hey — if you happen to see me behind my booth this weekend, just hand me a coffee and remind me I said all this.
Because I’ll probably need it.
Until next time, keep showing up in whatever way you can —
that’s where the art begins.
