ļ»æE50 Transcript
Thereās something a little surreal about sitting here recording episode fifty.
Fifty. Five ā Zero!
In podcast years, thatās still basically toddler-level ā Iām wobbling forward, learning a few new words, occasionally bumping into furnitureā¦ but Iām upright. And moving. And still here.
Truth be told - It went faster than I expected.
Not because I rushed it, but because I kept showing up ā week after week ā even on the weeks when I wondered if anyone was actually listening.
But todayās episode isnāt a celebration of a number.
Itās more of a thank-you and a āhereās what makes big things happenā sort of thing.
Because if youāre listening right now, Iām doing this with you ā not into a void, not into a vacuum, but into a community of fabric creatives, makers, and brave souls also building something one stitch, one idea, one tiny step at a time.
So today, I want to talk about what these fifty episodes have taught me ā about creativity, about business, about being visible, and about staying the course even when it feelsā¦ really slow.
This isnāt going to be from the pedestal of āexpert advice,ā but from the place of āI learned this along the wayā¦ and maybe itāll help you too.ā
So, settle in ā because weāre going to talk about the surprises, the wins, the lessons, and the things I wish someone had told me before I hit record on episode one.
This oneās for the fabric creative in you.
If you had asked me back before Episode 1 what the hardest part of podcasting would be, I wouldāve guessed the tech, or the editing, or maybe even keeping the ideas flowing.
Turns out, none of that was the real challenge.
That was -
Getting people to actually go listen to the thing.
I already knew how to record. I knew how to do basic edits.
Iāve had Adobe Premiere Pro and Kajabi for a while. The mechanics were familiar.
But discoverability?
Thatās a whole different animal.
And I think a lot of creatives underestimate that part.
This is true of anything you put out into the worldā¦ because I know most of you are not podcasters.
Making āthe thingā is one job.
Getting eyes on āthe thingā is a completely separate job.
What surprised me ā in the best way ā was how natural āmaking the thingā itself became.
In the beginning, I was stiff ā the āfirst day of schoolā energy was very real.
But episode by episode,
I loosened up.
I let myself wander a little.
I stopped editing out every detour or side thought.
I let myself sound more likeā¦ well, me.
And thatās been one of the biggest lessons from these fifty episodes.
Hereās the translation for you:
Your creative voice doesnāt arrive fully formed ā it emerges through repetition.
You donāt discover it by thinking about it.
You discover it by doing the thing again and again, until the nervous energy quiets down and your real voice steps forward.
And for anyone listening whoās hesitating to start something because you feel like youāre not āreadyā yet ā hereās what I learned the hard way:
You donāt have to be perfect to begin.
But you do have to begin for anything to get easierā¦ and in turn, start to be āseen.ā
Or in my case ā heard.
Showing up creates clarity.
Showing up builds confidence.
Showing up turns the work into something that actually starts to get better.
And guess what? Showing up ALSO increases the odds that the right people will find you and your beautiful creations.
Keep showing up so your people can find you.
Now somewhere in the middle of showing up fifty times in a row, I started noticing something about myself.
Iām a lot more conversational and natural now than I ever was in Episode 1.
Back then, I was in āpodcast modeā ā you know, that imaginary version of how we think weāre supposed to sound when we do something publicly.
But the longer Iāve done this, the more Iāve let myself drop that voice and justā¦ be me.
The side tangents? I leave them in.
The little stories that pop up out of nowhere? Leave those there too.
The tone? Itās less ābroadcast,ā and more ātalking with a friend while weāre sipping a cup of coffee.ā
And honestly, thatās been a huge relief.
Whatās interesting is that even after 50 episodes, Iām still discovering the shape of this show.
Itās still evolving.
Iām still figuring out what I want to bring forward, what I want to explore deeper, what Iām actually interested in saying.
And instead of that making me anxious, it actually feelsā¦ right.
Because hereās the truth most creatives donāt hear enough:
Creativity isnāt a fixed identity. Itās a moving target.
And thatās a good thing.
It means youāre growing.
It means youāre paying attention.
It means youāre letting your work shape you as much as you shape it.
So let me turn this part over to you:
Where are you holding back your real voice ā or your real style ā because you think you āshouldā sound, look, or create a certain way?
Where are you sanding down the edges, adjusting your tone, or shrinking your personality because you think it might be ātoo muchā or ānot enoughā?
If thereās anything these fifty episodes have taught me, itās this:
The more you let yourself be yourself, the more everything else starts to fall into place ā
the ideas, the simplicity, the certainty, the audience who finds you and thinks,
āAh. Yes. This is my person.ā
So donāt be afraid to evolve.
Donāt be afraid to try something different than you did a year ago.
Thatās the whole point.
And speaking of evolvingā¦ that brings me to something else these fifty episodes have taught me:
Your audience will tell you who they are ā
just not always in the ways you expect.
When I first started this podcast, I assumed feedback would be obvious.
Emails. Reviews. Something.
But podcasting is a strange little corner of the internet ā thereās no built-in comment section, no back-and-forth, no immediate response. It can feel like tossing a message in a bottle out to sea and hoping someone finds it.
So, I kept my expectations pretty low.
It turns out that the downloads became their own kind of feedback loop.
And hereās what those numbers revealed:
The episodes you gravitate toward most ā the ones you listen to, save, and share ā are almost always about creative business, understanding the market, selling your work, and building something managable.
Not the mindset pieces.
Not the feel-good topics.
The practical stuff.
The teach-me-how-to-turn-this-into-something stuff.
And I love that clarity ā because it tells me youāre not just creative.
Youāre ambitious.
Youāre thinking ahead.
Youāre trying to build something with legs.
And thenāon the flip sideāI noticed something else.
One of the least downloaded episodes was the one on building creative confidence.
That genuinely surprised meā¦ until I dug a little deeper.
Hereās something most of us donāt admit out loud:
Creators often go straight for the business outcomes ā the strategy, the pricing, the marketing ā long before weāre ready to talk about mindset.
Even though -and this is a big one - mindset quietly drives every single one of those outcomes.
You can grow a business without the perfect workflow.
But you canāt grow much of anything without believing in your work enough to show it.
And that leads to one of the biggest lessons Iāve learned about audiences ā and one Iād offer to you, too:
Your audience doesnāt always tell you what they need with their words.
But itās usually found underneath their behavior.
Sometimes they wonāt pick up on something that would help them most.
Not because they donāt need it ā but because they donāt yet recognize why it matters.
And part of our job, as creative entrepreneurs, is gently helping them see
why something matters ā before they even know to ask for it.
So ask yourself:
What is your audience already telling you through their reactions?
What patterns do you see?
What do they show up for?
What do they scroll past?
What do they love enough to save, share, or ask about?
This isnāt about chasing trends or trying to please everyone.
Itās about paying attention.
Because clarity doesnāt show up at the beginning.
It shows up after youāve been at it long enough for people to respond.
What also became clearer the longer I did this is something I didnāt expect at all:
Visibility wasnāt the intimidating part.
The commitment was.
Being seen online, or on a podcast, or in my businessā¦ that part doesnāt rattle me anymore. Iāve been visible in one way or another for several years. But sticking with something ā knowing it would be a long-haul project before gaining any sort of traction - that is its own kind of discipline.
And I think a lot of creatives underestimate that too.
We spend so much time worrying about āputting ourselves out there,ā when the harder part is actually showing upā¦ again.
And again.
And again.
Knowing youāre not going to see a tangible result for a while
Thatās where ya gotta be all in.
So yeah, Iāve learned that the challenge isnāt visibility ā itās the energy it takes to sustain it.
Managing your studio time, your mental bandwidth, your creative outputā¦ thatās the part that asks more of you than hitting āpublish.ā
And that realization has softened something in me.
Because I used to think consistency was a personality trait ā something other people just had.
Nope.
Itās a system.
A rhythm.
A set of tiny habits that keep you moving even when the spark isnāt there.
For me, that looks like having my recording setup always ready.
It looks like jotting ideas down everywhere - all the time.
It looks like letting go of the pressure to sound perfect and simply focus on showing up.
Now hereās a shocking, practical tidbit for you:
You learn how to be visible by being visible.
Not by planning it.
Not by thinking about it.
By doing it.
Whether youāre posting your sewn work for saleā¦
or teaching a classā¦
or writing an email to your tiny listā¦
or sharing your art with people who donāt know you yetā¦
You wonāt feel ready.
But readiness is overrated.
the Rhythm of doing is what carries you forward.
So, if youāve been waiting for confidence, or permission, or a sign ā just go for it
Dig in now.
Let the confidence catch up later.
Because I have learned - that it will.
If I could sit down with the version of me who hadnāt recorded a single episode yet ā the one setting up her mic for the first time, overthinking every sentence ā I know exactly what Iād tell her.
First:
āYouāre right. This is going to be a long road.ā
Not in a discouraging way.
Justā¦ in a realistic way.
Building anything is a game of momentum, and momentum doesnāt show up in week two. It shows up somewhere around week forty, when you suddenly realize youāve built something without noticing you were building it.
And Iād tell her,
āThe year is going to fly. Youāll blink, and it will be episode fifty.ā
Then Iād nudge her ā lovingly ā and say:
āPlease stop looking for fast results. Fast results arenāt coming. Slow ones are.ā
Because this whole process has taught me that the most dangerous temptation for a creative isnāt failure ā itās pivoting too fast.
every time I wondered if anyone was listeningā¦
every time another idea popped into my headā¦
There was always that little whisper:
āMaybe you should change direction.ā
But sticking with the original vision, giving it time, letting it develop actual legs ā thatās where the real growth came from.
And our creative work is exactly the same way.
If I could go back and talk to that first-episode version of me, Iād tell her:
āDonāt reinvent yourself every time something feels hard.
Stay with yourself long enough to see what consistency reveals.ā
Because the truth is, most creative breakthroughs donāt come from inspiration.
They come from endurance.
From patience.
From showing up long enough for the work to teach you what it wants to be.
I would encourage you to stop reinventing yourselfā¦
and simply stay with yourself
Where do you need to let something slow-build instead of fast-solve?
Because if Episode-1 me taught me anything, itās that starting is brave ā
but staying is transformative.
And hereās the funny part of all this:
āStaying with itā sounds nobleā¦ but in real life, it looks far less glamorous than people imagine.
So maybe this is a good moment to pull back the curtain on how this show actually gets made.
For starters:
I record this podcast in a walk-in closet.
Not a fancy recording booth.
Not a Pinterest-worthy home studio.
A closet ā because fabrics make the best acoustics, and because shutting myself in there is the only way to block out the rest of the world.
Itās intentional.
It works.
And thatās really the theme of my entire behind-the-scenes process:
Whatever keeps me showing up is what stays.
Over time, Iāve discovered that systems matter far more than motivation:
ā¢ I stay 2ā4 episodes ahead whenever possible
ā¢ I keep a recording checklist (of course I do ā the list-lover in me is alive and well)
ā¢ All my gear stays permanently set up
ā¢ I have little routines that protect my energy on recording days
None of it is glamorous.
None of it is particularly impressive.
But all of it makes showing up sustainable.
And hereās why Iām telling you this:
Creative consistency isnāt built on inspiration. Itās built on infrastructure.
On the tiny, unsexy habits that make your creative life easier.
Your āsystemā might be a corner of the dining roomā¦
or a Sunday morning routineā¦
or a checklist taped to a shelf.
It doesnāt have to look a certain way to count.
What matters isnāt how you show up.
Itās that you make it simple enough to keep showing up.
Because when you keep showing up ā quietly, consistently, without a lot of fanfare ā
little wins start appearing in places you werenāt even looking.
Some of them are tiny.
Most of them are slow.
Many of them you donāt even recognize as wins until much later.
Like the moment I hit 1,000 downloads before the end of the year.
Is that a massive number in podcast-land? Not even close.
but it is a milestone you want to hit, sooner than later, and it made me think, āOkayā¦ obviously it is slowly coming together.ā
Or the first time I realized I was several episodes ahead, not scrambling the night before.
That quiet sense of āThis is sustainableā was its own kind of celebration.
Some wins are invisible from the outside ā like the clarity that builds without you noticing.
And some wins open doors ā literal ones.
Conversations, opportunities, connections that only occurred because I kept showing up here, week after week.
None of these wins were dramatic or flashy.
But every single one of them whispered the same thing:
āYouāre moving in the right direction. You can do thisā
And thatās what I want you to really hear today:
Small wins arenāt insignificant.
Theyāre directional.
They tell you where your energy is working.
They tell you where your effort is paying off.
They tell you what to keep leaning into.
So let me ask you this ā
and I hope you sit with it for a moment:
What are some of your small wins that show you that youāre on the right path?
Not the big flashy one.
Not the one youāre still waiting for.
The quiet one youāre probably overlooking.
Because that win?
Thatās the breadcrumb thatās pointing you forward.
Those small wins ā the ones pointing you forward ā
theyāre also the ones shaping where youāre heading next.
As I look toward Episode 100, Iāve been thinking a lot about what I want the next fifty episodes to feel likeā¦ not just for me, but for you.
For starters, I want more ease.
Not less work ā just less friction.
The kind of ease that comes from trusting the process and letting the words come without overthinking.
I want to be able to sit down, flip on the mic, and talk as naturally as I would if you were sitting across from me at my studio table.
And I want more voices in the room ā literally.
By Episode 100, Iād love to have at least twelve guest interviews, especially with fabric creatives, patternmakers, quilters, sewists, surface designersā¦
people whose stories light me up and will light you up too.
I want this podcast to become a place where we talk about the real journey behind creative work ā not the highlight reel, but the messy middle, the breakthroughs, the humor, and the hope.
And yesā¦ Iād love to bring in sponsors (other than me) eventually ā
but only the kind whose products I actually use, whose businesses feel aligned with ours, and whose presence makes the show better, not noisier.
But more than anything?
I want the next fifty episodes to make you feel something.
More excitement.
More momentum.
More clarity about your own creative path.
Because your future creative self is being shaped by whatever youāre practicing right now.
Not someday.
Not when the timing is right.
Not when you have fewer responsibilities or more confidence.
Right now ā in the way you choose materials, share your work, learn new skills, or even pick up one small habit that keeps you moving.
Just like these fifty episodes shaped me, your next fifty steps ā whatever they are ā will shape you.
And I want this podcast to keep being a place that supports that.
A place that helps you stay in motion, stay curious, and stay connected to the work that matters to you.
If thereās one thing these fifty episodes have shown me, for sureā¦
Its that creative growth doesnāt happen in one big moment ā it happens in a long line of tiny, almost-invisible steps.
And whether you realize it or not, youāve been growing right alongside me.
Every week you show up here ā while youāre sewing, driving, cooking, or ignoring a pile of laundry ā youāre choosing to stay connected to your creativity. And that matters more than you think.
If you take nothing else from this milestone episode, let it be this:
You can trust the long game.
You can trust slow growth.
You can trust your own timing.
And you can absolutely trust that small steps ā the kind you barely notice ā build the kind of confidence you can actually use.
So, thank you for being here for the first fifty.
Thank you for listening, learning, trying, pausing, and picking back up again.
And hereās to the next fifty ā the ones we get to build together, one real, small, doable step at a time.
Iāll see you right here ā¦again
next week.
